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diff --git a/12279-h/12279-h.htm b/12279-h/12279-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5be81fc --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/12279-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10673 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= +"text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Maid-At-Arms, by Robert W. +Chambers.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + blockquote {text-align: justify; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%;} + .ctr { TEXT-ALIGN: center } + IMG { + BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; + BORDER-TOP: 0px; + BORDER-LEFT: 0px; + BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; } + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12279 ***</div> + +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/351.jpg"><img src="images/351.jpg" +width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"I SAT DOWN HEAVILY IN HOMESICK SOLITUDE".</b></p> +<h1><i>THE<br> +MAID-AT-ARMS</i></h1> +<h3>A Novel</h3> +<h4><i>By</i></h4> +<h2><i>Robert W. Chambers</i></h2> +<h4><i>Illustrated by</i></h4> +<h3><i>Howard Chandler Christy</i></h3> +<p class="ctr"><img src="images/001.png" width="30%" alt=""></p> +<h5>1902</h5> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h4>TO</h4> +<h3>MISS KATHARINE HUSTED</h3> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<p>After a hundred years the history of a great war waged by a +successful nation is commonly reviewed by that nation with +retrospective complacency.</p> +<p>Distance dims the panorama; haze obscures the ragged gaps in the +pageant until the long lines of victorious armies move smoothly +across the horizon, with never an abyss to check their triumph.</p> +<p>Yet there is one people who cannot view the past through a +mirage. The marks of the birth-pangs remain on the land; its +struggle for breath was too terrible, its scars too deep to hide or +cover.</p> +<p>For us, the pages of the past turn all undimmed; battles, +brutally etched, stand clear as our own hills against the sky--for +in this land we have no haze to soften truth.</p> +<p>Treading the austere corridor of our Pantheon, we, too, come at +last to victory--but what a victory! Not the familiar, gracious +goddess, wide-winged, crowned, bearing wreaths, but a naked, +desperate creature, gaunt, dauntless, turning her iron face to the +west.</p> +<p>The trampling centuries can raise for us no golden dust to cloak +the flanks of the starved ranks that press across our horizon.</p> +<p>Our ragged armies muster in a pitiless glare of light, every man +distinct, every battle in detail.</p> +<p>Pangs that they suffered we suffer.</p> +<p>The faint-hearted who failed are judged by us as though they +failed before the nation yesterday; the brave are re-enshrined as +we read; the traitor, to us, is no grotesque Guy Fawkes, but a +living Judas of to-day.</p> +<p>We remember that Ethan Allen thundered on the portal of all +earthly kings at Ticonderoga; but we also remember that his hatred +for the great state of New York brought him and his men of Vermont +perilously close to the mire which defiled Charles Lee and Conway, +and which engulfed poor Benedict Arnold.</p> +<p>We follow Gates's army with painful sympathy to Saratoga, and +there we applaud a victory, but we turn from the commander in +contempt, his brutal, selfish, shallow nature all revealed.</p> +<p>We know him. We know them all--Ledyard, who died stainless, with +his own sword murdered; Herkimer, who died because he was not brave +enough to do his duty and be called a coward for doing it; Woolsey, +the craven Major at the Middle Fort, stammering filthy speeches in +his terror when Sir John Johnson's rangers closed in; Poor, who +threw his life away for vanity when that life belonged to the land! +Yes, we know them all--great, greater, and less great--our +grandfather Franklin, who trotted through a perfectly cold and +selfishly contemptuous French court, aged, alert, cheerful to the +end; Schuyler, calm and imperturbable, watching the North, which +was his trust, and utterly unmindful of self or of the pack yelping +at his heels; Stark, Morgan, Murphy, and Elerson, the brave +riflemen; Spencer, the interpreter; Visscher, Helmer, and the +Stoners.</p> +<p>Into our horizon, too, move terrible shapes--not shadowy or +lurid, but living, breathing figures, who turn their eyes on us and +hold out their butcher hands: Walter Butler, with his awful smile; +Sir John Johnson, heavy and pallid--pallid, perhaps, with the +memory of his broken parole; Barry St. Leger, the drunken dealer in +scalps; Guy Johnson, organizer of wholesale murder; Brant, called +Thayendanegea, brave, terrible, faithful, but--a Mohawk; and that +frightful she-devil, Catrine Montour, in whose hot veins seethed +savage blood and the blood of a governor of Canada, who smote us, +hip and thigh, until the brawling brooks of Tryon ran blood!</p> +<p>No, there is no illusion for us; no splendid armies, +banner--laden, passing through unbroken triumphs across the +sunset's glory; no winged victory, with smooth brow laurelled to +teach us to forget the holocaust. Neither can we veil our history, +nor soften our legends. Romance alone can justify a theme inspired +by truth; for Romance is more vital than history, which, after all, +is but the fleshless skeleton of Romance.</p> +<p>R.W.C.</p> +<p>BROADALBIN,</p> +<p><i>May</i> 26, 1902.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<blockquote> +<ul> +<li><a href="#I">I. THE ROAD TO VARICKS'.</a></li> +<li><a href="#II">II. IN THE HALLWAY.</a></li> +<li><a href="#III">III. COUSINS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#IV">IV. SIR LUPUS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#V">V. A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S.</a></li> +<li><a href="#VI">VI. DAWN.</a></li> +<li><a href="#VII">VII. AFTERMATH.</a></li> +<li><a href="#VIII">VIII. RIDING THE BOUNDS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#IX">IX. HIDDEN FIRE.</a></li> +<li><a href="#X">X. TWO LESSONS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XI">XI. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XII">XII. THE GHOST-RING.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIII">XIII. THE MAID-AT-ARMS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIV">XIV. ON DUTY.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XV">XV. THE FALSE-FACES.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XVI">XVI. ON SCOUT.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XVII">XVII. THE FLAG.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XVIII">XVIII. ORISKANY.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XIX">XIX. THE HOME TRAIL.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XX">XX. COCK-CROW.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XXI">XXI. THE CRISIS.</a></li> +<li><a href="#XXII">XXII. THE END OF THE BEGINNING.</a></li> +</ul> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<blockquote> +<ul> +<li><a href="#351.jpg">"I SAT DOWN HEAVILY IN HOMESICK +SOLITUDE".</a></li> +<li><a href="#352.jpg">"YOU'RE MY COUSIN, GEORGE ORMOND, OR I'M THE +FATTEST LIAR SOUTH OF MONTREAL!".</a></li> +<li><a href="#353.jpg">"SHE SUFFERED US TO SALUTE HER +HAND".</a></li> +<li><a href="#354.jpg">"NOW LOOSE ME--FOR THE FOREST +ENDS!".</a></li> +<li><a href="#355.jpg">"THIS IS THE END, O YOU WISE MEN AND +SACHEMS!".</a></li> +<li><a href="#356.jpg">"JACK MOUNT LOOMED A COLOSSAL FIGURE IN HIS +BEADED BUCKSKINS".</a></li> +<li><a href="#357.jpg">"INSTANTLY MOUNT TRIPPED THE MAN".</a></li> +<li><a href="#358.jpg">"A STRANGE SHYNESS SEEMED TO HOLD US +APART".</a></li> +</ul> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2>THE MAID-AT-ARMS</h2> +<br> +<h2><a name="I"></a>I</h2> +<h3>THE ROAD TO VARICKS'</h3> +<br> +<p>We drew bridle at the cross-roads; he stretched his legs in his +stirrups, raised his arms, yawned, and dropped his huge hands upon +either thigh with a resounding slap.</p> +<p>"Well, good-bye," he said, gravely, but made no movement to +leave me.</p> +<p>"Do we part here?" I asked, sorry to quit my chance acquaintance +of the Johnstown highway.</p> +<p>He nodded, yawned again, and removed his round cap of silver-fox +fur to scratch his curly head.</p> +<p>"We certainly do part at these cross-roads, if you are bound for +Varicks'," he said.</p> +<p>I waited a moment, then thanked him for the pleasant +entertainment his company had afforded me, and wished him a safe +journey.</p> +<p>"A safe journey?" he repeated, carelessly. "Oh yes, of course; +safe journeys are rare enough in these parts. I'm obliged to you +for the thought. You are very civil, sir. Good-bye."</p> +<p>Yet neither he nor I gathered bridle to wheel our horses, but +sat there in mid-road, looking at each other.</p> +<p>"My name is Mount," he said at length; "let me guess yours. No, +sir! don't tell me. Give me three sportsman's guesses; my +hunting-knife against the wheat straw you are chewing!"</p> +<p>"With pleasure," I said, amused, "but you could scarcely guess +it."</p> +<p>"Your name is Varick?"</p> +<p>I shook my head.</p> +<p>"Butler?"</p> +<p>"No. Look sharp to your knife, friend."</p> +<p>"Oh, then I have guessed it," he said, coolly; "your name is +Ormond--and I'm glad of it."</p> +<p>"Why are you glad of it?" I asked, curiously, wondering, too, at +his knowledge of me, a stranger.</p> +<p>"You will answer that question for yourself when you meet your +kin, the Varicks and Butlers," he said; and the reply had an +insolent ring that did not please me, yet I was loath to quarrel +with this boyish giant whose amiable company I had found agreeable +on my long journey through a land so new to me.</p> +<p>"My friend," I said, "you are blunt."</p> +<p>"Only in speech, sir," he replied, lazily swinging one huge leg +over the pommel of his saddle. Sitting at ease in the sunshine, he +opened his fringed hunting-shirt to the breeze blowing.</p> +<p>"So you go to the Varicks?" he mused aloud, eyes slowly closing +in the sunshine like the brilliant eyes of a basking lynx.</p> +<p>"Do you know the lord of the manor?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Who? The patroon?"</p> +<p>"I mean Sir Lupus Varick."</p> +<p>"Yes; I know him--I know Sir Lupus. We call him the patroon, +though he's not of the same litter as the Livingstons, the Cosbys, +the Phillipses, Van Rensselaers, and those feudal gentlemen who +juggle with the high justice, the middle, and the low--and who will +juggle no more."</p> +<p>"Am I mistaken," said I, "in taking you for a Boston man?"</p> +<p>"In one sense you are," he said, opening his eyes. "I was born +in Vermont."</p> +<p>"Then you are a rebel?"</p> +<p>"Lord!" he said, laughing, "how you twist our English tongue! +'Tis his Majesty across the waters who rebels at our home-made +Congress."</p> +<p>"Is it not dangerous to confess such things to a stranger?" I +asked, smiling.</p> +<p>His bright eyes reassured me. "Not to all strangers," he +drawled, swinging his free foot over his horse's neck and settling +his bulk on the saddle. One big hand fell, as by accident, over the +pan of his long rifle. Watching, without seeming to, I saw his +forefinger touch the priming, stealthily, and find it dry.</p> +<p>"You are no King's man," he said, calmly.</p> +<p>"Oh, do you take me for a rebel, too?" I demanded.</p> +<p>"No, sir; you are neither the one nor the other--like a tadpole +with legs, neither frog nor pollywog. But you will be."</p> +<p>"Which?" I asked, laughing.</p> +<p>"My wisdom cannot draw that veil for you, sir," he said. "You +may take your chameleon color from your friends the Varicks and +remain gray, or from the Butlers and turn red, or from the +Schuylers and turn blue and buff."</p> +<p>"You credit me with little strength of character," I said.</p> +<p>"I credit you with some twenty-odd years and no experience."</p> +<p>"With nothing more?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir; with sincerity and a Spanish rifle--which you may +have need of ere this month of May has melted into June."</p> +<p>I glanced at the beautiful Spanish weapon resting across my +pommel.</p> +<p>"What do you know of the Varicks?" I asked, smiling.</p> +<p>"More than do you," he said, "for all that they are your kin. +Look at me, sir! Like myself, you wear deer-skin from throat to +ankle, and your nose is ever sniffing to windward. But this is a +strange wind to you. You see, you smell, but your eyes ask, 'What +is it?' You are a woodsman, but a stranger among your own kin. You +have never seen a living Varick; you have never even seen a +partridge."</p> +<p>"Your wisdom is at fault there," I said, maliciously.</p> +<p>"Have you seen a Varick?"</p> +<p>"No; but the partridge--"</p> +<p>"Pooh! a little creature, like a gray meadow-lark remoulded! You +call it partridge, I call it quail. But I speak of the crested +thunder--drumming cock that struts all ruffed like a Spanish +grandee of ancient times. Wait, sir!" and he pointed to a string of +birds' footprints in the dust just ahead. "Tell me what manner of +creature left its mark there?"</p> +<p>I leaned from my saddle, scanning the sign carefully, but the +bird that made it was a strange bird to me. Still bending from my +saddle, I heard his mocking laugh, but did not look up.</p> +<p>"You wear a lynx-skin for a saddle-cloth," he said, "yet that +lynx never squalled within a thousand miles of these hills."</p> +<p>"Do you mean to say there are no lynxes here?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Plenty, sir, but their ears bear no black-and-white marks. +Pardon, I do not mean to vex you; I read as I run, sir; it is my +habit."</p> +<p>"So you have traced me on a back trail for a thousand +miles--from habit," I said, not exactly pleased.</p> +<p>"A thousand miles--by your leave."</p> +<p>"Or without it."</p> +<p>"Or without it--a thousand miles, sir, on a back trail, through +forests that blossom like gigantic gardens in May with flowers +sweeter than our white water-lilies abloom on trees that bear +glossy leaves the year round; through thickets that spread great, +green, many-fingered hands at you, all adrip with golden jasmine; +where pine wood is fat as bacon; where the two oaks shed their +leaves, yet are ever in foliage; where the thick, blunt snakes lie +in the mud and give no warning when they deal death. So far, sir, I +trail you, back to the soil where your baby fingers first dug--soil +as white as the snow which you are yet to see for the first time in +your life of twenty-three years. A land where there are no hills; a +land where the vultures sail all day without flapping their +tip-curled wings; where slimy dragon things watch from the water's +edge; where Greek slaves sweat at indigo-vats that draw vultures +like carrion; where black men, toiling, sing all day on the +sea-islands, plucking cotton-blossoms; where monstrous horrors, +hornless and legless, wallow out to the sedge and graze like +cattle--"</p> +<p>"Man! You picture a hell!" I said, angrily, "while I come from +paradise!"</p> +<p>"The outer edges of paradise border on hell," he said. "Wait! +Sniff that odor floating."</p> +<p>"It is jasmine!" I muttered, and my throat tightened with a +homesick spasm.</p> +<p>"It is the last of the arbutus," he said, dropping his voice to +a gentle monotone. "This is New York province, county of Tryon, +sir, and yonder bird trilling is not that gray minstrel of the +Spanish orange-tree, mocking the jays and the crimson fire-birds +which sing 'Peet! peet!' among the china-berries. Do you know the +wild partridge-pea of the pine barrens, that scatters its seeds +with a faint report when the pods are touched? There is in this +land a red bud which has burst thundering into crimson bloom, +scattering seeds o' death to the eight winds. And every seed breeds +a battle, and every root drinks blood!"</p> +<p>He straightened in his stirrups, blue eyes ablaze, face burning +under its heavy mask of tan and dust.</p> +<p>"If I know a man when I see him, I know you," he said. "God save +our country, friend, upon this sweet May day."</p> +<p>"Amen, sir," I replied, tingling. "And God save the King the +whole year round!"</p> +<p>"Yes," he repeated, with a disagreeable laugh, "God save the +King; he is past all human aid now, and headed straight to hell. +Friend, let us part ere we quarrel. You will be with me or against +me this day week. I knew it was a man I addressed, and no +tavern-post."</p> +<p>"Yet this brawl with Boston is no affair of mine," I said, +troubled. "Who touches the ancient liberties of Englishmen touches +my country, that is all I know."</p> +<p>"Which country, sir?"</p> +<p>"Greater Britain."</p> +<p>"And when Greater Britain divides?"</p> +<p>"It must not!"</p> +<p>"It has."</p> +<p>I unbound the scarlet handkerchief which I wore for a cap, and +held it between my fingers to dry its sweat in the breeze. Watching +it flutter, I said:</p> +<p>"Friend, in my country we never cross the branch till we come to +it, nor leave the hammock till the river-sands are beneath our +feet. No hunting-shirt is sewed till the bullet has done its +errand, nor do men fish for gray mullet with a hook and line. There +is always time to pray for wisdom."</p> +<p>"Friend," replied Mount, "I wear red quills on my moccasins, you +wear bits of sea-shell. That is all the difference between us. +Good-bye. Varick Manor is the first house four miles ahead."</p> +<p>He wheeled his horse, then, as at a second thought, checked him +and looked back at me.</p> +<p>"You will see queer folk yonder at the patroon's," he said. "You +are accustomed to the manners of your peers; you were bred in that +land where hospitality, courtesy, and deference are shown to +equals; where dignity and graciousness are expected from the +elders; where duty and humility are inbred in the young. So is it +with us--except where you are going. The great patroon families, +with their vast estates, their patents, their feudal systems, have +stood supreme here for years. Theirs is the power of life and death +over their retainers; they reign absolute in their manors, they +account only to God for their trusts. And they are great folk, sir, +even yet--these Livingstons, these Van Rensselaers, these +Phillipses, lords of their manors still; Dutch of descent, +polished, courtly, proud, bearing the title of patroon as a noble +bears his coronet."</p> +<p>He raised his hand, smiling. "It is not so with the Varicks. +They are patroons, too, yet kin to the Johnsons, of Johnson Hall +and Guy Park, and kin to the Ormond-Butlers. But they are different +from either Johnson or Butler--vastly different from the Schuylers +or the Livingstons--"</p> +<p>He shrugged his broad shoulders and dropped his hand: "The +Varicks are all mad, sir. Good-bye."</p> +<p>He struck his horse with his soft leather heels; the animal +bounded out into the western road, and his rider swung around once +more towards me with a gesture partly friendly, partly, perhaps, in +menace. "Tell Sir Lupus to go to the devil!" he cried, gayly, and +cantered away through the golden dust.</p> +<p>I sat my horse to watch him; presently, far away on the hill's +crest, the sun caught his rifle and sparkled for a space, then the +point of white fire went out, and there was nothing on the hill-top +save the dust drifting.</p> +<p>Lonelier than I had yet been since that day, three months gone, +when I had set out from our plantation on the shallow Halifax, +which the hammock scarcely separates from the ocean, I gathered +bridle with listless fingers and spoke to my mare. "Isene, we must +be moving eastward--always moving, sweetheart. Come, lass, there's +grain somewhere in this Northern land where you have carried me." +And to myself, muttering aloud as I rode: "A fine name he has given +to my cousins the Varicks, this giant forest-runner, with his boy's +face and limbs of iron! And he was none too cordial concerning the +Butlers, either--cousins, too, but in what degree they must tell +me, for I don't know--"</p> +<p>The road entering the forest, I ceased my prattle by instinct, +and again for the thousandth time I sniffed at odors new to me, and +scanned leafy depths for those familiar trees which stand warden in +our Southern forests. There were pines, but they were not our +pines, these feathery, dark-stemmed trees; there were oaks, but +neither our golden water oaks nor our great, green-and-silver +live-oaks. Little, pale flowers bloomed everywhere, shadows only of +our bright blossoms of the South; and the rare birds I saw were +gray and small, and chary of song, as though the stillness that +slept in this Northern forest was a danger not to be awakened. +Loneliness fell on me; my shoulders bent and my head hung heavily. +Isene, my mare, paced the soft forest-road without a sound, so +quietly that the squatting rabbit leaped from between her forelegs, +and the slim, striped, squirrel-like creatures crouched paralyzed +as we passed ere they burst into their shrill chatter of fright or +anger, I know not which.</p> +<p>Had I a night to spend in this wilderness I should not know +where to find a palmetto-fan for a torch, where to seek light-wood +for splinter. It was all new to me; signs read riddles; tracks were +sealed books; the east winds brought rain, where at home they bring +heaven's own balm to us of the Spanish grants on the seaboard; the +northwest winds that we dread turn these Northern skies to +sapphire, and set bees a-humming on every bud.</p> +<p>There was no salt in the air, no citrus scent in the breeze, no +heavy incense of the great magnolia bloom perfuming the wilderness +like a cathedral aisle where a young bride passes, clouded in +lace.</p> +<p>But in the heat a heavy, sweetish odor hung; balsam it is +called, and mingled, too, with a faint scent like our bay, which +comes from a woody bush called sweet-fern. That, and the strong +smell of the bluish, short-needled pine, was ever clogging my +nostrils and confusing me. Once I thought to scent a 'possum, but +the musky taint came from a rotting log; and a stale fox might have +crossed to windward and I not noticed, so blunted had grown my nose +in this unfamiliar Northern world.</p> +<p>Musing, restless, dimly confused, and doubly watchful, I rode +through the timber-belt, and out at last into a dusty, sunny road. +And straightway I sighted a house.</p> +<p>The house was of stone, and large and square and gray, with only +a pillared porch instead of the long double galleries we build; and +it had a row of windows in the roof, called dormers, and was +surrounded by a stockade of enormous timbers, in the four corners +of which were set little forts pierced for rifle fire.</p> +<p>Noble trees stood within the fortified lines; outside, green +meadows ringed the place; and the grass was thick and soft, and +vivid as a green jewel in color--such grass as we never see save +for a spot here and there in swampy places where the sun falls in +early spring.</p> +<p>The house was yet a hundred rods away to the eastward. I rode on +slowly, noticing the neglected fences on either hand, and thought +that my cousin Varick might have found an hour to mend them, for +his pride's sake.</p> +<p>Isene, my mare, had already scented the distant stables, and was +pricking forward her beautiful ears as I unslung my broad hat of +plaited palmetto and placed it on my head, the better to salute my +hosts when I should ride to their threshold in the Spanish fashion +we followed at home.</p> +<p>So, cantering on, I crossed a log bridge which spanned a ravine, +below which I saw a grist-mill; and so came to the stockade. The +gate was open and unguarded, and I guided my mare through without a +challenge from the small corner forts, and rode straight to the +porch, where an ancient negro serving-man stood, dressed in a +tawdry livery too large for him. As I drew bridle he gave me a +dull, almost sullen glance, and it was not until I spoke sharply to +him that he shambled forward and descended the two steps to hold my +stirrup.</p> +<p>"Is Sir Lupus at home?" I asked, looking curiously at this mute, +dull-eyed black, so different from our grinning lads at home.</p> +<p>"Yaas, suh, he done come home, suh."</p> +<p>"Then announce Mr. George Ormond," I said.</p> +<p>He stared, but did not offer to move.</p> +<p>"Did you hear me?" I asked, astonished.</p> +<p>"Yaas, suh, I done hear yoh, suh."</p> +<p>I looked him over in amazement, then walked past him towards the +door.</p> +<p>"Is you gwine look foh Mars' Lupus?" he asked, barring my way +with one wrinkled, blue-black hand on the brass door-knob. "Kaze ef +you is, you don't had better, suh."</p> +<p>I could only stare.</p> +<p>"Kaze Mars' Lupus done say he gwine kill de fustest man what +'sturb him, suh," continued the black man, in a listless monotone. +"An' I spec' he gwine do it."</p> +<p>"Is Sir Lupus abed at this hour?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Yaas, suh."</p> +<p>There was no emotion in the old man's voice. Something made me +think that he had given the same message to visitors many +times.</p> +<p>I was very angry at the discourtesy, for he must have known when +to expect me from my servant, who had accompanied me by water with +my boxes from St. Augustine to Philadelphia, where I lingered while +he went forward, bearing my letter with him. Yet, angry and +disgusted as I was, there was nothing for me to do except to +swallow the humiliation, walk in, and twiddle my thumbs until the +boorish lord of the manor waked to greet his invited guest.</p> +<p>"I suppose I may enter," I said, sarcastically.</p> +<p>"Yaas, suh; Miss Dorry done say: 'Cato,' she say, 'ef de young +gem'man come when Mars' Lupus am drunk, jess take care n' him, +Cato; put him mos' anywhere 'cep in mah bed, Cato, an' jess call me +ef I ain' busy 'bout mah business--'"</p> +<p>Still rambling on, he opened the door, and I entered a wide +hallway, dirty and disordered. As I stood hesitating, a terrific +crash sounded from the floor above.</p> +<p>"Spec' Miss Dorry busy," observed the old man, raising his +solemn, wrinkled face to listen.</p> +<p>"Uncle," I said, "is it true that you are all mad in this +house?"</p> +<p>"We sho' is, suh," he replied, without interest.</p> +<p>"Are you too crazy to care for my horse?"</p> +<p>"Oh no, suh."</p> +<p>"Then go and rub her down, and feed her, and let me sit here in +the hallway. I want to think."</p> +<p>Another crash shook the ceiling of solid oak; very far away I +heard a young girl's laughter, then a stifled chorus of voices from +the floor above.</p> +<p>"Das Miss Dorry an' de chilluns," observed the old man.</p> +<p>"Who are the others?"</p> +<p>"Waal, dey is Miss Celia, an' Mars' Harry, an' Mars' Ruyven, an' +Mars' Sam'l, an' de babby, li'l Mars' Benny."</p> +<p>"All mad?"</p> +<p>"Yaas, suh."</p> +<p>"I'll be, too, if I remain here," I said. "Is there an inn near +by?"</p> +<p>"De Turkle-dove an' Olives."</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>"'Bout five mile long de pike, suh."</p> +<p>"Feed my horse," I said, sullenly, and sat down on a settle, +rifle cradled between my knees, and in my heart wrath immeasurable +against my kin the Varicks.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="II"></a>II</h2> +<h3>IN THE HALLWAY</h3> +<br> +<p>So this was Northern hospitality! This a Northern gentleman's +home, with its cobwebbed ceiling, its little window-panes opaque +with stain of rain and dust, its carpetless floors innocent of wax, +littered with odds and ends--here a battered riding-cane; there a +pair of tarnished spurs; yonder a scarlet hunting-coat a-trail on +the banisters, with skirts all mud from feet that mayhap had used +it as a mat in rainy weather!</p> +<p>I leaned forward and picked up the riding-crop; its cane end was +capped with heavy gold. The spurs I also lifted for inspection; +they were beautifully wrought in silver.</p> +<p>Faugh! Here was no poverty, but the shiftlessness of a sot, +trampling good things into the mire!</p> +<p>I looked into the fireplace. Ashes of dead embers choked it; the +andirons, smoke-smeared and crusted, stood out stark against the +sooty maw of the hearth.</p> +<p>Still, for all, the hall was made in good and even noble +proportion; simple, as should be the abode of a gentleman; +over-massive, perhaps, and even destitute of those gracious and +symmetrical galleries which we of the South think no shame to take +pride in; for the banisters were brutally heavy, and the rail above +like a rampart, and for a newel-post some ass had set a bronze +cannon, breech upward; and it was green and beautiful, but +offensive to sane consistency.</p> +<p>Standing, the better to observe the hall on all sides, it came +to me that some one had stripped a fine English mansion of fine but +ancient furniture, to bring it across an ocean and through a forest +for the embellishment of this coarse house. For there were pictures +in frames showing generals and statesmen of the Ormond-Butlers, one +even of the great duke who fled to France; and there were pictures +of the Varicks before they mingled with us Irish--apple-cheeked +Dutchmen, cadaverous youths bearing match-locks, and one, an +admiral, with star and sash across his varnish-cracked corselet of +blue steel, looking at me with pale, smoky eyes.</p> +<p>Rusted suits of mail, and groups of weapons made into star +shapes and circles, points outward, were ranged between the heavy +pictures, each centred with a moth-ravaged stag's head, smothered +in dust.</p> +<p>As I slowly paced the panelled wall, nose in air to observe +these neglected trophies, I came to another picture, hung all alone +near the wall where it passes under the staircase, and at first, +for the darkness, I could not see.</p> +<p>Imperceptibly the outlines of the shape grew in the gloom from a +deep, rich background, and I made out a figure of a youth all cased +in armor save for the helmet, which was borne in one smooth, +blue-veined hand.</p> +<p>The face, too, began to assume form; rounded, delicate, crowned +with a mass of golden hair; and suddenly I perceived the eyes, and +they seemed to open sweetly, like violets in a dim wood.</p> +<p>"What Ormond is this?" I muttered, bewitched, yet sullen to see +such feminine roundness in any youth; and, with my sleeve of +buckskin, I rubbed the dust from the gilded plate set in the lower +frame.</p> +<p>"The Maid-at-Arms," I read aloud.</p> +<p>Then there came to me, at first like the far ring of a voice +scarcely heard through southern winds, the faint echo of a legend +told me ere my mother died--perhaps told me by her in those +drifting hours of a childhood nigh forgotten. Yet I seemed to see +white, sun-drenched sands and the long, blue swell of a summer sea, +and I heard winds in the palms, and a song--truly it was my +mother's; I knew it now--and, of a sudden, the words came borne on +a whisper of ancient melody:</p> +<blockquote>"This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms,<br> +Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!"</blockquote> +<p>Memory was stirring at last, and the gray legend grew from the +past, how a maid, Helen of Ormond, for love of her cousin, held +prisoner in his own house at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, sheared off her +hair, clothed her limbs in steel, and rode away to seek him; and +how she came to the house at Ashby and rode straight into the +gateway, forcing her horse to the great hall where her lover lay, +and flung him, all in chains, across her saddle-bow, riding like a +demon to freedom through the Desmonds, his enemies. Ah! now my +throat was aching with the memory of the song, and of that strange +line I never understood--"Wearing the ghost-ring!"--and, of +themselves, the words grew and died, formed on my silent lips:</p> +<blockquote>"This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms,<br> +Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!<br> +<br> +"Though for all time the lords of Ormond be<br> +Butlers to Majesty,<br> +Yet shall new honors fall upon her<br> +Who, armored, rode for love to Ashby Farms;<br> +Let this her title be: A Maid-at-Arms!<br> +<br> +"Serene mid love's alarms,<br> +For all time shall the Maids-at-Arms,<br> +<i>Wearing the ghost-ring,</i> triumph with their constancy.<br> +And sweetly conquer with a sigh<br> +And vanquish with a tear<br> +Captains a trembling world might fear.<br> +<br> +"This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms,<br> +Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms!"</blockquote> +<p>Staring at the picture, lips quivering with the soundless words, +such wretched loneliness came over me that a dryness in my throat +set me gulping, and I groped my way back to the settle by the +fireplace and sat down heavily in homesick solitude.</p> +<a name="351.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/351.jpg"><img src="images/351.jpg" +width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"I SAT DOWN HEAVILY IN HOMESICK SOLITUDE".</b></p> +<p>Then hate came, a quick hatred for these Northern skies, and +these strangers of the North who dared claim kin with me, to lure +me northward with false offer of council and mockery of +hospitality.</p> +<p>I was on my feet again in a flash, hot with anger, ready with +insult to meet insult, for I meant to go ere I had greeted my +host--an insult, indeed, and a deadly one among us. Furious, I bent +to snatch my rifle from the settle where it lay, and, as I flung it +to my shoulder, wheeling to go, my eyes fell upon a figure stealing +down the stairway from above, a woman in flowered silk, bare of +throat and elbow, fingers scarcely touching the banisters as she +moved.</p> +<p>She hesitated, one foot poised for the step below; then it fell +noiselessly, and she stood before me.</p> +<p>Anger died out under the level beauty of her gaze. I bowed, just +as I caught a trace of mockery in the mouth's scarlet curve, and +bowed the lower for it, too, straightening slowly to the dignity +her mischievous eyes seemed to flout; and her lips, too, defied me, +all silently--nay, in every limb and from every finger-tip she +seemed to flout me, and the slow, deep courtesy she made me was too +slow and far too low, and her recovery a marvel of plastic +malice.</p> +<p>"My cousin Ormond?" she lisped;--"I am Dorothy Varick."</p> +<p>We measured each other for a moment in silence.</p> +<p>There was a trace of powder on her bright hair, like a mist of +snow on gold; her gown's yoke was torn, for all its richness, and a +wisp of lace in rags fell, clouding the delicate half-sleeve of +China silk.</p> +<p>Her face, colored like palest ivory with rose, was no doll's +face, for all its symmetry and a forgotten patch to balance the +dimple in her rounded chin; it was even noble in a sense, and, if +too chaste for sensuous beauty, yet touched with a strange and +pensive sweetness, like 'witched marble waking into flesh.</p> +<p>Suddenly a voice came from above: "Dorothy, come here!"</p> +<p>My cousin frowned, glanced at me, then laughed.</p> +<p>"Dorothy, I want my watch!" repeated the voice.</p> +<p>Still looking at me, my cousin slowly drew from her bosom a +huge, jewelled watch, and displayed it for my inspection.</p> +<p>"We were matching mint-dates with shillings for father's watch; +I won it," she observed.</p> +<p>"Dorothy!" insisted the voice.</p> +<p>"Oh, la!" she cried, impatiently, "will you hush?"</p> +<p>"No, I won't!"</p> +<p>"Then our cousin Ormond will come up-stairs and give you what +Paddy gave the kettle-drum--won't you?" she added, raising her eyes +to me.</p> +<p>"And what was that?" I asked, astonished.</p> +<p>Somebody on the landing above went off into fits of laughter; +and, as I reddened, my cousin Dorothy, too, began to laugh, showing +an edge of small, white teeth under the red lip's line.</p> +<p>"Are you vexed because we laugh?" she asked.</p> +<p>My tongue stung with a retort, but I stood silent. These Varicks +might forget their manners, but I might not forget mine.</p> +<p>She honored me with a smile, sweeping me from head to foot with +her bright eyes. My buckskins were dirty from travel, and the +thrums in rags; and I knew that she noted all these matters.</p> +<p>"Cousin," she lisped, "I fear you are something of a +macaroni."</p> +<p>Instantly a fresh volley of laughter rattled from the +landing--such clear, hearty laughter that it infected me, spite my +chagrin.</p> +<p>"He's a good fellow, our cousin Ormond!" came a fresh young +voice from above.</p> +<p>"He shall be one of us!" cried another; and I thought to catch a +glimpse of a flowered petticoat whisked from the gallery's +edge.</p> +<p>I looked at my cousin Dorothy Varick; she stood at gaze, +laughter in her eyes, but the mouth demure.</p> +<p>"Cousin Dorothy," said I, "I believe I am a good fellow, even +though ragged and respectable. If these qualities be not bars to +your society, give me your hand in fellowship, for upon my soul I +am nigh sick for a welcome from somebody in this unfriendly +land."</p> +<p>Still at gaze, she slowly raised her arm and held out to me a +fresh, sun-tanned hand; and I had meant to press it, but a sudden +shyness scotched me, and, as the soft fingers rested in my palm, I +raised them and touched them with my lips in silent respect.</p> +<p>"You have pretty manners," she said, looking at her hand, but +not withdrawing it from where it rested. Then, of an impulse, her +fingers closed on mine firmly, and she looked me straight in the +eye.</p> +<p>"You are a good comrade; welcome to Varicks', cousin +Ormond!"</p> +<p>Our hands fell apart, and, glancing up, I perceived a group of +youthful barbarians on the stairs, intently watching us. As my eyes +fell on them they scattered, then closed in together defiantly. A +red-haired lad of seventeen came down the steps, offering his hand +awkwardly.</p> +<p>"I'm Ruyven Varick," he said. "These girls are fools to bait men +of our age--" He broke off to seize Dorothy by the arm. "Give me +that watch, you vixen!"</p> +<p>His sister scornfully freed her arm, and Ruyven stood sullenly +clutching a handful of torn lace.</p> +<p>"Why don't you present us to our cousin Ormond?" spoke up a maid +of sixteen.</p> +<p>"Who wants to make your acquaintance?" retorted Ruyven, edging +again towards his sister.</p> +<p>I protested that I did; and Dorothy, with mock empressement, +presented me to Cecile Butler, a slender, olive-skinned girl with +pretty, dark eyes, who offered me her hand to kiss in such +determined manner that I bowed very low to cover my smile, knowing +that she had witnessed my salute to my cousin Dorothy and meant to +take nothing less for herself.</p> +<p>"And those boys yonder are Harry Varick and Sam Butler, my +cousins," observed Dorothy, nonchalantly relapsing into barbarism +to point them out separately with her pink-tipped thumb; "and that +lad on the stairs is Benny. Come on, we're to throw hunting-knives +for pennies. Can you?--but of course you can."</p> +<p>I looked around at my barbarian kin, who had produced hunters' +knives from recesses in their clothing, and now gathered +impatiently around Dorothy, who appeared to be the leader in their +collective deviltries.</p> +<p>"All the same, that watch is mine," broke out Ruyven, defiantly. +"I'll leave it to our cousin Ormond--" but Dorothy cut in: "Cousin, +it was done in this manner: father lost his timepiece, and the law +is that whoever finds things about the house may keep them. So we +all ran to the porch where father had fallen off his horse last +night, and I think we all saw it at the same time; and I, being the +older and stronger--"</p> +<p>"You're not the stronger!" cried Sam and Harry, in the same +breath.</p> +<p>"I," repeated Dorothy, serenely, "being not only older than +Ruyven by a year, but also stronger than you all together, kept the +watch, spite of your silly clamor--and mean to keep it."</p> +<p>"Then we matched shillings for it!" cried Cecile.</p> +<p>"It was only fair; we all discovered it," explained Dorothy. +"But Ruyven matched with a Spanish piece where the date was under +the reverse, and he says he won. Did he, cousin?"</p> +<p>"Mint-dates always match!" said Ruyven; "gentlemen of our age +understand that, Cousin George, don't we?"</p> +<p>"Have I not won fairly?" asked Dorothy, looking at me. "If I +have not, tell me."</p> +<p>With that, Sam Butler and Harry set up a clamor that they and +Cecile had been unfairly dealt with, and all appealed to me until, +bewildered, I sat down on the stairs and looked wistfully at +Dorothy.</p> +<p>"In Heaven's name, cousins, give me something to eat and drink +before you bring your lawsuits to me for judgment," I said.</p> +<p>"Oh," cried Dorothy, biting her lip, "I forgot. Come with me, +cousin!" She seized a bell-rope and rang it furiously, and a loud +gong filled the hall with its brazen din; but nobody came.</p> +<p>"Where the devil are those blacks?" said Dorothy, biting off her +words with a crisp snap that startled me more than her profanity. +"Cato! Where are you, you lazy--"</p> +<p>"Ahm hyah, Miss Dorry," came a patient voice from the kitchen +stairs.</p> +<p>"Then bring something to eat--bring it to the gun-room +instantly--something for Captain Ormond--and a bottle of Sir +Lupus's own claret--and two glasses--"</p> +<p>"Three glasses!" cried Ruyven.</p> +<p>"Four!" "Five!" shouted Harry and Cecile.</p> +<p>"Six!" added Samuel; and little Benny piped out, "Theven!"</p> +<p>"Then bring two bottles, Cato," called out Dorothy.</p> +<p>"I want some small-beer!" protested Benny.</p> +<p>"Oh, go suck your thumbs," retorted Ruyven, with an elder +brother's brutality; but Dorothy ordered the small-beer, and bade +the negro hasten.</p> +<p>"We all mean to bear you company, Cousin," said Ruyven, +cheerfully, patting my arm for my reassurance; and truly I lacked +something of assurance among these kinsmen of mine, who appeared to +lack none.</p> +<p>"You spoke of me as Captain Ormond," I said, turning with a +smile to Dorothy.</p> +<p>"Oh, it's all one," she said, gayly; "if you're not a captain +now, you will be soon, I'll wager--but I'm not to talk of that +before the children--"</p> +<p>"You may talk of it before me," said Ruyven. "Harry, take Benny +and Sam and Cecile out of earshot--"</p> +<p>"Pooh!" cried Harry, "I know all about Sir John's new +regiment--"</p> +<p>"Will you hush your head, you little fool!" cut in Dorothy. +"Servants and asses have long ears, and I'll clip yours if you bray +again!"</p> +<p>The jingling of glasses on a tray put an end to the matter; +Cato, the black, followed by two more blacks, entered the hall +bearing silver salvers, and at a nod from Dorothy we all trooped +after them.</p> +<p>"Guests first!" hissed Dorothy, in a fierce whisper, as Ruyven +crowded past me, and he slunk back, mortified, while Dorothy, in a +languid voice and with the air of a duchess, drawled, "Your arm, +cousin," and slipped her hand into my arm, tossing her head with a +heavy-lidded, insolent glance at poor Ruyven.</p> +<p>And thus we entered the gun-room, I with Dorothy Varick on my +arm, and behind me, though I was not at first aware of it, Harry, +gravely conducting Cecile in a similar manner, followed by Samuel +and Benny, arm-in-arm, while Ruyven trudged sulkily by himself.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="III"></a>III</h2> +<h3>COUSINS</h3> +<br> +<p>There was a large, discolored table in the armory, or gun-room, +as they called it; and on this, without a cloth, our repast was +spread by Cato, while the other servants retired, panting and +grinning like over-fat hounds after a pack-run.</p> +<p>And, by Heaven! they lacked nothing for solid silver, my cousins +the Varicks, nor yet for fine glass, which I observed without +appearance of vulgar curiosity while Cato carved a cold joint of +butcher's roast and cracked the bottles of wine--a claret that +perfumed the room like a garden in September.</p> +<p>"Cousin Dorothy, I have the honor to raise my glass to you," I +said.</p> +<p>"I drink your health, Cousin George," she said, gravely--"Benny, +let that wine alone! Is there no small-beer there, that you go +coughing and staining your bib over wine forbidden? Take his glass +away, Ruyven! Take it quick, I say!"</p> +<p>Benny, deprived of his claret, collapsed moodily into a heap, +and sat swinging his legs and clipping the table, at every kick of +his shoon, until my wine danced in my glass and soiled the +table.</p> +<p>"Stop that, you!" cried Cecile.</p> +<p>Benny subsided, scowling.</p> +<p>Though Dorothy was at some pains to assure me that they had +dined but an hour before, that did not appear to blunt their +appetites. And the manner in which they drank astonished me, a +glass of wine being considered sufficient for young ladies at home, +and a half-glass for lads like Harry and Sam. Yet when I emptied my +glass Dorothy emptied hers, and the servants refilled hers when +they refilled mine, till I grew anxious and watched to see that her +face flushed not, but had my anxiety for my pains, as she changed +not a pulse-beat for all the red wine she swallowed.</p> +<p>And Lord! how busy were her little white teeth, while her pretty +eyes roved about, watchful that order be kept at this gypsy repast. +Cecile and Harry fell to struggling for a glass, which snapped and +flew to flakes under their clutching fingers, drenching them with +claret.</p> +<p>"Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, eyes ablaze. "Do you wish our +cousin Ormond to take us for manner-less savages?"</p> +<p>"Why not?" retorted Harry. "We are!"</p> +<p>"Oh, Lud!" drawled Cecile, languidly fanning her flushed face, +"I would I had drunk small-beer--Harry, if you kick me again I'll +pinch!"</p> +<p>"It's a shame," observed Ruyven, "that gentlemen of our age may +not take a glass of wine together in comfort."</p> +<p>"Your age!" laughed Dorothy. "Cousin Ormond is twenty-three, +silly, and I'm eighteen--or close to it."</p> +<p>"And I'm seventeen," retorted Ruyven.</p> +<p>"Yet I throw you at wrestling," observed Dorothy, with a +shrug.</p> +<p>"Oh, your big feet! Who can move them?" he rejoined.</p> +<p>"Big feet? Mine?" She bent, tore a satin shoe from her foot, and +slapped it down on the table in challenge to all to equal it--a +small, silver-buckled thing of Paddington's make, with a smart red +heel and a slender body, slim as the crystal slipper of +romance.</p> +<p>There was no denying its shapeliness; presently she removed it, +and, stooping, slowly drew it on her foot.</p> +<p>"Is that the shoe Sir John drank your health from?" sneered +Ruyven.</p> +<p>A rich flush mounted to Dorothy's hair, and she caught at her +wine-glass as though to throw it at her brother.</p> +<p>"A married man, too," he laughed--"Sir John Johnson, the fat +baronet of the Mohawks--"</p> +<p>"Damn you, will you hold your silly tongue?" she cried, and rose +to launch the glass, but I sprang to my feet, horrified and +astounded, arm outstretched.</p> +<p>"Ruyven," I said, sharply, "is it you who fling such a taunt to +shame your own kin? If there is aught of impropriety in what this +man Sir John has done, is it not our affair with him in place of a +silly gibe at Dorothy?"</p> +<p>"I ask pardon," stammered Ruyven; "had there been impropriety in +what that fool, Sir John, did I should not have spoke, but have +acted long since, Cousin Ormond."</p> +<p>"I'm sure of it," I said, warmly. "Forgive me, Ruyven."</p> +<p>"Oh, la!" said Dorothy, her lips twitching to a smile, "Ruyven +only said it to plague me. I hate that baronet, and Ruyven knows +it, and harps ever on a foolish drinking-bout where all fell to the +table, even Walter Butler, and that slow adder Sir John among the +first. And they do say," she added, with scorn, "that the baronet +did find one of my old shoon and filled it to my health--damn +him!--"</p> +<p>"Dorothy!" I broke in, "who in Heaven's name taught you such +shameful oaths?"</p> +<p>"Oaths?" Her face burned scarlet. "Is it a shameful oath to say +'Damn him'?"</p> +<p>"It is a common oath men use--not gentlewomen," I said.</p> +<p>"Oh! I supposed it harmless. They all laugh when I say +it--father and Guy Johnson and the rest; and they swear other +oaths--words I would not say if I could--but I did not know there +was harm in a good smart 'damn!'"</p> +<p>She leaned back, one slender hand playing with the stem of her +glass; and the flush faded from her face like an afterglow from a +serene horizon.</p> +<p>"I fear," she said, "you of the South wear a polish we +lack."</p> +<p>"Best mirror your faults in it while you have the chance," said +Harry, promptly.</p> +<p>"We lack polish--even Walter Butler and Guy Johnson sneer at us +under father's nose," said Ruyven. "What the devil is it in us +Varicks that set folk whispering and snickering and nudging one +another? Am I parti-colored, like an Oneida at a scalp-dance? Does +Harry wear bat's wings for ears? Are Dorothy's legs crooked, that +they all stare?"</p> +<p>"It's your red head," observed Cecile. "The good folk think to +see the noon-sun setting in the wood--"</p> +<p>"Oh, tally! you always say that," snapped Ruyven.</p> +<p>Dorothy, leaning forward, looked at me with dreamy blue eyes +that saw beyond me.</p> +<p>"We are doubtless a little mad, ... as they say," she mused. +"Otherwise we seem to be like other folk. We have clothing +befitting, when we choose to wear it; we were schooled in Albany; +we are people of quality, like the other patroons; we lack nothing +for servants or tenants--what ails them all, to nudge and stare and +grin when we pass?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Livingston says our deportment shocks all," murmured +Cecile.</p> +<p>"The Schuylers will have none of us," added Harry, +plaintively--"and I admire them, too."</p> +<p>"Oh, they all conduct shamefully when I go to school in Albany," +burst out Sammy; "and I thrashed that puling young patroon, too, +for he saw me and refused my salute. But I think he will render me +my bow next time."</p> +<p>"Do the quality not visit you here?" I asked Dorothy.</p> +<p>"Visit us? No, cousin. Who is to receive them? Our mother is +dead."</p> +<p>Cecile said: "Once they did come, but Uncle Varick had that +mistress of Sir John's to sup with them and they took offence."</p> +<p>"Mrs. Van Cortlandt said she was a painted hussy--" began +Harry.</p> +<p>"The Van Rensselaers left the house, vowing that Sir Lupus had +used them shamefully," added Cecile; "and Sir Lupus said: 'Tush! +tush! When the Van Rensselaers are too good for the Putnams of +Tribes Hill I'll eat my spurs!' and then he laughed till he +cried."</p> +<p>"They never came again; nobody of quality ever came; nobody ever +comes," said Ruyven.</p> +<p>"Excepting the Johnsons and the Butlers," corrected Sammy.</p> +<p>"And then everybody geths tight; they were here lath night and +Uncle Varick is sthill abed," said little Benny, innocently.</p> +<p>"Will you all hold your tongues?" cried Dorothy, fiercely. +"Father said we were not to tell anybody that Sir John and the +Ormond-Butlers visited us."</p> +<p>"Why not?" I asked.</p> +<p>Dorothy clasped both hands under her chin, rested her bare +elbows on the table, and leaned close to me, whispering +confidentially: "Because of the war with the Boston people. The +country is overrun with rebels--rebel troops at Albany, rebel +gunners at Stanwix, rebels at Edward and Hunter and Johnstown. A +scout of ten men came here last week; they were harrying a +war-party of Brant's Mohawks, and Stoner was with them, and that +great ox in buckskin, Jack Mount. And do you know what he said to +father? He said, 'For Heaven's sake, turn red or blue, Sir Lupus, +for if you don't we'll hang you to a crab-apple and chance the +color.' And father said, 'I'm no partisan King's man'; and Jack +Mount said, 'You're the joker of the pack, are you?' And father +said, 'I'm not in the shuffle, and you can bear me out, you rogue!' +And then Jack Mount wagged his big forefinger at him and said, 'Sir +Lupus, if you're but a joker, one or t'other side must discard +you!' And they rode away, priming their rifles and laughing, and +father swore and shook his cane at them."</p> +<p>In her eagerness her lips almost touched my ear, and her breath +warmed my cheek.</p> +<p>"All that I saw and heard," she whispered, "and I know father +told Walter Butler, for a scout came yesterday, saying that a scout +from the Rangers and the Royal Greens had crossed the hills, and I +saw some of Sir John's Scotch loons riding like warlocks on the new +road, and that great fool, Francy McCraw, tearing along at their +head and crowing like a cock."</p> +<p>"Cousin, cousin," I protested, "all this--all these names--even +the causes and the manners of this war, are incomprehensible to +me."</p> +<p>"Oh," she said, in surprise, "have you in Florida not heard of +our war?"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes--all know that war is with you, but that is all. I +know that these Boston men are fighting our King; but why do the +Indians take part?"</p> +<p>She looked at me blankly, and made a little gesture of +dismay.</p> +<p>"I see I must teach you history, cousin," she said. "Father +tells us that history is being made all about us in these +days--and, would you believe it? Benny took it that books were +being made in the woods all around the house, and stole out to see, +spite of the law that father made--"</p> +<p>"Who thaw me?" shouted Benny.</p> +<p>"Hush! Be quiet!" said Dorothy.</p> +<p>Benny lay back in his chair and beat upon the table, howling +defiance at his sister through Harry's shouts of laughter.</p> +<p>"Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, flushed and furious. "Is this +a corn-feast, that you all sit yelping in a circle? Ruyven, hold +that door, and see that no one follows us--"</p> +<p>"What for?" demanded Ruyven, rising. "If you mean to keep our +cousin Ormond to yourself--"</p> +<p>"I wish to discuss secrets with my cousin Ormond," said Dorothy, +loftily, and stepped from her chair, nose in the air, and that +heavy-lidded, insolent glance which once before had withered +Ruyven, and now withered him again.</p> +<p>"We will go to the play-room," she whispered, passing me; "that +room has a bolt; they'll all be kicking at the door presently. +Follow me."</p> +<p>Ere we had reached the head of the stairs we heard a yell, a +rush of feet, and she laughed, crying: "Did I not say so? They are +after us now full bark! Come!"</p> +<p>She caught my hand in hers and sped up the few remaining steps, +then through the upper hallway, guiding me the while her light feet +flew; and I, embarrassed, bewildered, half laughing, half shamed to +go a-racing through a strange house in such absurd a fashion.</p> +<p>"Here!" she panted, dragging me into a great, bare chamber and +bolting the door, then leaned breathless against the wall to listen +as the chase galloped up, clamoring, kicking and beating on panel +and wall, baffled.</p> +<p>"They're raging to lose their new cousin," she breathed, smiling +across at me with a glint of pride in her eyes. "They all think +mightily of you, and now they'll be mad to follow you like +hound-pups the whip, all day long." She tossed her head. "They're +good lads, and Cecile is a sweet child, too, but they must be made +to understand that there are moments when you and I desire to be +alone together."</p> +<p>"Of course," I said, gravely.</p> +<p>"You and I have much to consider, much to discuss in these +uncertain days," she said, confidently. "And we cannot babble +matters of import to these children--"</p> +<p>"I'm seventeen!" howled Ruyven, through the key-hole. "Dorothy's +not eighteen till next month, the little fool--"</p> +<p>"Don't mind him," said Dorothy, raising her voice for Ruyven's +benefit. "A lad who listens to his elders through a key-hole is not +fit for serious--"</p> +<p>A heavy assault on the door drowned Dorothy's voice. She waited +calmly until the uproar had subsided.</p> +<p>"Let us sit by the window," she said, "and I will tell you how +we Varicks stand betwixt the deep sea and the devil."</p> +<p>"I wish to come in!" shouted Ruyven, in a threatening voice. +Dorothy laughed, and pointed to a great arm-chair of leather and +oak. "I will sit there; place it by the window, cousin."</p> +<p>I placed the chair for her; she seated herself with unconscious +grace, and motioned me to bring another chair for myself.</p> +<p>"Are you going to let me in?" cried Ruyven.</p> +<p>"Oh, go to the--" began Dorothy, then flushed and glanced at me, +asking pardon in a low voice.</p> +<p>A nice parent, Sir Lupus, with every child in his family ready +to swear like Flanders troopers at the first breath!</p> +<p>Half reclining in her chair, limbs comfortably extended, Dorothy +crossed her ankles and clasped her hands behind her head, a picture +of indolence in every line and curve, from satin shoon to the dull +gold of her hair, which, as I have said, the powder scarcely +frosted.</p> +<p>"To comprehend properly this war," she mused, more to herself +than to me, "I suppose it is necessary to understand matters which +I do not understand; how it chanced that our King lost his city of +Boston, and why he has not long since sent his soldiers here into +our county of Tryon."</p> +<p>"Too many rebels, cousin," I suggested, flippantly. She +disregarded me, continuing quietly;</p> +<p>"But this much, however, I do understand, that our province of +New York is the centre of all this trouble; that the men of Tryon +hold the last pennyweight, and that the balanced scales will tip +only when we patroons cast in our fortunes, ... either with our +King or with the rebel Congress which defies him. I think our +hearts, not our interests, must guide us in this affair, which +touches our honor."</p> +<p>Such pretty eloquence, thoughtful withal, was not what I had +looked for in this new cousin of mine--this free-tongued maid, who, +like a painted peach-fruit all unripe, wears the gay livery of +maturity, tricking the eye with a false ripeness.</p> +<p>"I have thought," she said, "that if the issues of this war +depend on us, we patroons should not draw sword too hastily--yet +not to sit like house-cats blinking at this world-wide blaze, but, +in the full flood of the crisis, draw!--knowing of our own minds on +which side lies the right."</p> +<p>"Who taught you this?" I asked, surprised to over-bluntness.</p> +<p>"Who taught me? What? To think?" She laughed. "Solitude is a +rare spur to thought. I listen to the gentlemen who talk with +father; and I would gladly join and have my say, too, but that they +treat me like a fool, and I have my questions for my pains. Yet I +swear I am dowered with more sense than Sir John Johnson, with his +pale eyes and thick, white flesh, and his tarnished honor to dog +him like the shadow of a damned man sold to Satan--"</p> +<p>"Is he dishonored?"</p> +<p>"Is a parole broken a dishonor? The Boston people took him and +placed him on his honor to live at Johnson Hall and do no meddling. +And now he's fled to Fort Niagara to raise the Mohawks. Is that +honorable?"</p> +<p>After a moment I said: "But a moment since you told me that Sir +John comes here."</p> +<p>She nodded. "He comes and gees in secret with young Walter +Butler--one of your Ormond-Butlers, cousin--and old John Butler, +his father, Colonel of the Rangers, who boast they mean to scalp +the whole of Tryon County ere this blood-feud is ended. Oh, I have +heard them talk and talk, drinking o' nights in the gun-room, and +the escort's horses stamping at the porch with a man to each horse, +to hold the poor brutes' noses lest they should neigh and wake the +woods. Councils of war, they call them, these revels; but they end +ever the same, with Sir John borne off to bed too drunk to curse +the slaves who shoulder his fat bulk, and Walter Butler, sullen, +stunned by wine, a brooding thing of malice carved in stone; and +father roaring his same old songs, and beating time with his long +pipe till the stem snaps, and he throws the glowing bowl at +Cato--"</p> +<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy," I said, "are these the scenes you find +already too familiar?"</p> +<p>"Stale as last month's loaf in a ratty cupboard."</p> +<p>"Do they not offend you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I am no prude--"</p> +<p>"Do you mean to say Sir Lupus sanctions it?"</p> +<p>"What? My presence? Oh, I amuse them; they dress me in Ruyven's +clothes and have me to wine--lacking a tenor voice for their +songs--and at first, long ago, their wine made me stupid, and they +found rare sport in baiting me; but now they tumble, one by one, +ere the wine's fire touches my face, and father swears there is no +man in County Tryon can keep our company o' nights and show a +steady pair of legs like mine to bear him bedwards."</p> +<p>After a moment's silence I said: "Are these your Northern +customs?"</p> +<p>"They are ours--and the others of our kind. I hear the plain +folk of the country speak ill of us for the free life we lead at +home--I mean the Palatines and the canting Dutch, not our tenants, +though what even they may think of the manor house and of us I can +only suspect, for they are all rebels at heart, Sir John says, and +wear blue noses at the first run o' king's cider."</p> +<p>She gave a reckless laugh and crossed her knees, looking at me +under half-veiled lids, smooth and pure as a child's.</p> +<p>"Food for the devil, they dub us in the Palatine church," she +added, yawning, till I could see all her small, white teeth set in +rose.</p> +<p>A nice nest of kinsmen had I uncovered in this hard, gray +Northern forest! The Lord knows, we of the South do little penance +for the pleasures a free life brings us under the Southern stars, +yet such license as this is not to our taste, and I think a man a +fool to teach his children to review with hardened eyes home scenes +suited to a tavern.</p> +<p>Yet I was a guest, having accepted shelter and eaten salt; and I +might not say my mind, even claiming kinsman's privilege to rebuke +what seemed to me to touch the family honor.</p> +<p>Staring through the unwashed window-pane, moodily brooding on +what I had learned, I followed impatiently the flight of those +small, gray swallows of the North, colorless as shadows, whirling +in spirals above the cold chimneys, to tumble in like flakes of +gray soot only to drift out again, wind--blown, aimless, +irrational, senseless things. And again that hatred seized me for +all this pale Northern world, where the very birds gyrated like +moon-smitten sprites, and the white spectre of virtue sat amid +orgies where bloodless fools caroused.</p> +<p>"Are you homesick, cousin?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Ay--if you must know the truth!" I broke out, not meaning to +say my fill and ease me. "This is not the world; it is a gray +inferno, where shades rave without reason, where there is no color, +no repose, nothing but blankness and unreason, and an air that +stings all living life to spasms of unrest. Your sun is hot, yet +has no balm; your winds plague the skin and bones of a man; the +forests are unfriendly; the waters all hurry as though bewitched! +Brooks are cold and tasteless as the fog; the unsalted, spiceless +air clogs the throat and whips the nerves till the very soul in the +body strains, fluttering to be free! How can decent folk abide +here?"</p> +<p>I hesitated, then broke into a harsh laugh, for my cousin sat +staring at me, lips parted, like a fair shape struck into marble by +a breath of magic.</p> +<p>"Pardon," I said. "Here am I, kindly invited to the council of a +family whose interests lie scattered through estates from the West +Indies to the Canadas, and I requite your hospitality by a rudeness +I had not believed was in me."</p> +<p>I asked her pardon again for the petty outburst of an +untravelled youngster whose first bath in this Northern air-ocean +had chilled his senses and his courtesy.</p> +<p>"There is a land," I said, "where lately the gray bastions of +St. Augustine reflected the gold and red of Spanish banners, and +the blue sea mirrors a bluer sky. We Ormonds came there from the +Western Indies, then drifted south, skirting the Matanzas to the +sea islands on the Halifax, where I was born, an Englishman on +Spanish soil, and have lived there, knowing no land but that of +Florida, treading no city streets save those walled lanes of +ancient Augustine. All this vast North is new to me, Dorothy; and, +like our swamp-haunting Seminoles, my rustic's instinct finds +hostility in what is new and strange, and I forget my breeding in +this gray maze which half confuses, half alarms me."</p> +<p>"I am not offended," she said, smiling, "only I wonder what you +find distasteful here. Is it the solitude?"</p> +<p>"No, for we also have that."</p> +<p>"Is it us?"</p> +<p>"Not you, Dorothy, nor yet Ruyven, nor the others. Forget what I +said. As the Spaniards have it, 'Only a fool goes travelling,' and +I'm not too notorious for my wisdom, even in Augustine. If it be +the custom of the people here to go mad, I'll not sit in a corner +croaking, 'Repent and be wise!' If the Varicks and the Butlers set +the pace, I promise you to keep the quarry, Mistress Folly, in +view--perhaps outfoot you all to Bedlam!... But, cousin, if you, +too, run this uncoupled race with the pack, I mean to pace you, +neck and neck, like a keen whip, ready to turn and lash the first +who interferes with you."</p> +<p>"With me?" she repeated, smiling. "Am I a youngster to be +coddled and protected? You have not seen our hunting. <i>I</i> +lead, my friend; <i>you</i> follow."</p> +<p>She unclasped her arms, which till now had held her bright head +cradled, and sat up, hands on her knees, grave as an Egyptian +goddess guarding tombs.</p> +<p>"I'll wager I can outrun you, outshoot you, outride you, throw +you at wrestle, cast the knife or hatchet truer than can you, catch +more fish than you--and bigger ones at that!"</p> +<p>With an impatient gesture, peculiarly graceful, like the +half-salute of a friendly swordsman ere you draw and stand on +guard:</p> +<p>"Read the forest with me. I can outread you, sign for sign, +track for track, trail in and trail out! The forest is to me +Te-ka-on-do-duk [the place with a sign-post]. And when the +confederacy speaks with five tongues, and every tongue split into +five forked dialects, I make no answer in finger-signs, as needs +must you, my cousin of the Se-a-wan-ha-ka [the land of shells]. We +speak to the Iroquois with our lips, we People of the Morning. Our +hands are for our rifles! Hiro [I have spoken]!"</p> +<p>She laughed, challenging me with eye and lip.</p> +<p>"And if you defy me to a bout with bowl or bottle I will not +turn coward, neah-wen-ha [I thank you]! but I will drink with you +and let my father judge whose legs best carry him to bed! Koue! +Answer me, my cousin, Tahoontowhe [the night hawk]."</p> +<p>We were laughing now, yet I knew she had spoken seriously, and +to plague her I said: "You boast like a Seminole chanting the +war-song."</p> +<p>"I dare you to cast the hatchet!" she cried, reddening.</p> +<p>"Dare me to a trial less rude," I protested, laughing the +louder.</p> +<p>"No, no! Come!" she said, impatient, unbolting the heavy door; +and, willy-nilly, I followed, meeting the pack all sulking on the +stairs, who rose to seize me as I came upon them.</p> +<p>"Let him alone!" cried Dorothy; "he says he can outcast me with +the war-hatchet! Where is my hatchet? Sammy! Ruyven! find hatchets +and come to the painted post."</p> +<p>"Sport!" cried Harry, leaping down-stairs before us. "Cecile, +get your hatchet--get mine, too! Come on, Cousin Ormond, I'll guide +you; it's the painted post by the spring--and hark, Cousin George, +if you beat her I'll give you my silvered powder-horn!"</p> +<p>Cecile and Sammy hastened up, bearing in their arms the slim +war-hatchets, cased in holsters of bright-beaded hide, and we took +our weapons and started, piloted by Harry through the door, and +across the shady, unkempt lawn to the stockade gate.</p> +<p>Dorothy and I walked side by side, like two champions in amiable +confab before a friendly battle, intimately aloof from the gaping +crowd which follows on the flanks of all true greatness.</p> +<p>Out across the deep-green meadow we marched, the others trailing +on either side with eager advice to me, or chattering of contests +past, when Walter Butler and Brant--he who is now war-chief of the +loyal Mohawks--cast hatchets for a silver girdle, which Brant wears +still; and the patroon, and Sir John, and all the great folk from +Guy Park were here a-betting on the Mohawk, which, they say, so +angered Walter Butler that he lost the contest. And that day dated +the silent enmity between Brant and Butler, which never healed.</p> +<p>This I gathered amid all their chit-chat while we stood under +the willows near the spring, watching Ruyven pace the distance from +the post back across the greensward towards us.</p> +<p>Then, making his heel-mark in the grass, he took a green willow +wand and set it, all feathered, in the turf.</p> +<p>"Is it fair for Dorothy to cast her own hatchet?" asked +Harry.</p> +<p>"Give me Ruyven's," she said, half vexed. Aught that touched her +sense of fairness sent a quick flame of anger to her cheeks which I +admired.</p> +<p>"Keep your own hatchet, cousin," I said; "you may have need of +it."</p> +<p>"Give me Ruyven's hatchet," she repeated, with a stamp of her +foot which Ruyven hastened to respect. Then she turned to me, pink +with defiance:</p> +<p>"It is always a stranger's honor," she said; so I advanced, +drawing my light, keen weapon from its beaded sheath, which I had +belted round me; and Ruyven took station by the post, ten paces to +the right.</p> +<p>The post was painted scarlet, ringed with white above; below, in +outline, the form of a man--an Indian--with folded arms, also drawn +in white paint. The play was simple; the hatchet must imbed its +blade close to the outlined shape, yet not "wound" or "draw +blood."</p> +<p>"Brant at first refused to cast against that figure," said +Harry, laughing. "He consented only because the figure, though +Indian, was painted white."</p> +<p>I scarce heard him as I stood measuring with my eyes the +distance. Then, taking one step forward to the willow wand, I +hurled the hatchet, and it landed quivering in the shoulder of the +outlined figure on the post.</p> +<p>"A wound!" cried Cecile; and, mortified, I stepped back, biting +my lip, while Harry notched one point against me on the willow wand +and Dorothy, tightening her girdle, whipped out her bright war-axe +and stepped forward. Nor did she even pause to scan the post; her +arm shot up, the keen axe-blade glittered and flew, sparkling and +whirling, biting into the post, chuck! handle a-quiver. And you +could not have laid a June willow-leaf betwixt the Indian's head +and the hatchet's blade.</p> +<p>She turned to me, lips parted in a tormenting smile, and I +praised the cast and took my hatchet from Ruyven to try once more. +Yet again I broke skin on the thigh of the pictured captive; and +again the glistening axe left Dorothy's hand, whirring to a safe +score, a grass-stem's width from the Indian's head.</p> +<p>I understood that I had met my master, yet for the third time +strove; and my axe whistled true, standing point-bedded a finger's +breadth from the cheek.</p> +<p>"Can you mend that, Dorothy?" I asked, politely.</p> +<p>She stood smiling, silent, hatchet poised, then nodded, +launching the axe. Crack! came the handles of the two hatchets, and +rattled together. But the blade of her hatchet divided the space +betwixt my blade and the painted face, nor touched the outline by a +fair hair's breadth.</p> +<p>Astonishment was in my face, not chagrin, but she misread me, +for the triumph died out in her eyes, and, "Oh!" she said; "I did +not mean to win--truly I did not," offering her hands in friendly +amend.</p> +<p>But at my quick laugh she brightened, still holding my hands, +regarding me with curious eyes, brilliant as amethysts.</p> +<p>"I was afraid I had hurt your pride--before these silly +children--" she began.</p> +<p>"Children!" shouted Ruyven. "I bet you ten shillings he can +outcast you yet!"</p> +<p>"Done!" she flashed, then, all in a breath, smiled adorably and +shook her head. "No, I'll not bet. He could win if he chose. We +understand each other, my cousin Ormond and I," and gave my hands a +little friendly shake with both of hers, then dropped them to still +Ruyven's clamor for a wager.</p> +<p>"You little beast!" she said, fiercely; "is it courteous to pit +your guests like game-cocks for your pleasure?"</p> +<p>"You did it yourself!" retorted Ruyven, indignantly--"and +entered the pit yourself."</p> +<p>"For a jest, silly! There were no bets. Now frown and vapor and +wag your finger--do! What do you lack? I will wrestle you if you +wait until I don my buckskins. No? A foot-race?--and I'll bet you +your ten shillings on myself! Ten to five--to three--to one! No? +Then hush your silly head!"</p> +<p>"Because," said Ruyven, sullenly, coming up to me, "she can +outrun me with her long legs, she gives herself the devil's own +airs and graces. There's no living with her, I tell you. I wish I +could go to the war."</p> +<p>"You'll have to go when father declares himself," observed +Dorothy, quietly polishing her hatchet on its leather sheath.</p> +<p>"But he won't declare for King or Congress," retorted the +boy.</p> +<p>"Wait till they start to plague us," murmured Dorothy. "Some +fine July day cows will be missed, or a barn burned, or a shepherd +found scalped. Then you'll see which way the coin spins!"</p> +<p>"Which way will it spin?" demanded Ruyven, incredulous yet +eager.</p> +<p>"Ask that squirrel yonder," she said, briefly.</p> +<p>"Thanks; I've asked enough of chatterers," he snapped out, and +came to the tree where we were sitting in the shadow on the cool, +thick carpet of the grass--such grass as I had never seen in that +fair Southland which I loved.</p> +<p>The younger children gathered shyly about me, their active +tongues suddenly silent, as though, all at once, they had taken a +sudden alarm to find me there.</p> +<p>The reaction of fatigue was settling over me--for my journey had +been a long one that day--and I leaned my back against the tree and +yawned, raising my hand to hide it.</p> +<p>"I wonder," I said, "whether anybody here knows if my boxes and +servant have arrived from Philadelphia."</p> +<p>"Your boxes are in the hallway by your bed-chamber," said +Dorothy. "Your servant went to Johnstown for news of you--let me +see--I think it was Saturday--"</p> +<p>"Friday," said Ruyven, looking up from the willow wand which he +was peeling.</p> +<p>"He never came back," observed Dorothy. "Some believe he ran +away to Albany, some think the Boston people caught him and +impressed him to work on the fort at Stanwix."</p> +<p>I felt my face growing hot.</p> +<p>"I should like to know," said I, "who has dared to interfere +with my servant."</p> +<p>"So should I," said Ruyven, stoutly. "I'd knock his head off." +The others stared. Dorothy, picking a meadow-flower to pieces, +smiled quietly, but did not look up.</p> +<p>"What do you think has happened to my black?" I asked, watching +her.</p> +<p>"I think Walter Butler's men caught him and packed him off to +Fort Niagara," she said.</p> +<p>"Why do you believe that?" I asked, angrily.</p> +<p>"Because Mr. Butler came here looking for boat-men; and I know +he tried to bribe Cato to go. Cato told me." She turned sharply to +the others. "But mind you say nothing to Sir Lupus of this until I +choose to tell him!"</p> +<p>"Have you proof that Mr. Butler was concerned in the +disappearance of my servant?" I asked, with an unpleasant softness +in my voice.</p> +<p>"No proof," replied Dorothy, also very softly.</p> +<p>"Then I may not even question him," I said.</p> +<p>"No, you can do nothing--now."</p> +<p>I thought a moment, frowning, then glanced up to find them all +intently watching me.</p> +<p>"I should like," said I, "to have a tub of clean water and fresh +clothing, and to sleep for an hour ere I dress to dine with Sir +Lupus. But, first, I should like to see my mare, that she is well +bedded and--"</p> +<p>"I'll see to her," said Dorothy, springing to her feet. "Ruyven, +do you tell Cato to wait on Captain Ormond." And to Harry and +Cecile: "Bowl on the lawn if you mean to bowl, and not in the +hallway, while our cousin is sleeping." And to Benny: "If you +tumble or fall into any foolishness, see that you squall no louder +than a kitten mewing. Our cousin means to sleep for a whole +hour."</p> +<p>As I rose, nodding to them gravely, all their shy deference +seemed to return; they were no longer a careless, chattering band, +crowding at my elbows to pluck my sleeves with, "Oh, Cousin Ormond" +this, and "Listen, cousin," that; but they stood in a covey, close +together, a trifle awed at my height, I suppose; and Ruyven and +Dorothy conducted me with a new ceremony, each to outvie the other +in politeness of language and deportment, calling to my notice +details of the scenery in stilted phrases which nigh convulsed me, +so that I could scarce control the set gravity of my features.</p> +<p>At the house door they parted company with me, all save Ruyven +and Dorothy. The one marched off to summon Cato; the other stood +silent, her head a little on one side, contemplating a spot of +sunlight on the dusty floor.</p> +<p>"About young Walter Butler," she began, absently; "be not too +short and sharp with him, cousin."</p> +<p>"I hope I shall have no reason to be too blunt with my own kin," +I said.</p> +<p>"You may have reason--" She hesitated, then, with a pretty +confidence in her eyes, "For my sake please to pass provocation +unnoticed. None will doubt your courage if you overlook and refuse +to be affronted."</p> +<p>"I cannot pass an affront," I said, bluntly. "What do you mean? +Who is this quarrelsome Mr. Butler?"</p> +<p>"An Ormond-Butler," she said, earnestly; "but--but he has had +trouble--a terrible disappointment in love, they say. He is morose +at times--a sullen, suspicious man, one of those who are ever +seeking for offence where none is dreamed of; a man quick to give +umbrage, quicker to resent a fancied slight--a remorseless eye that +fixes you with the passionless menace of a hawk's eye, dreamily +marking you for a victim. He is cruel to his servants, cruel to his +animals, terrible in his hatred of these Boston people. Nobody +knows why they ridiculed him; but they did. That adds to the fuel +which feeds the flame in him--that and the brooding on his own +grievances--"</p> +<p>She moved nearer to me and laid her hand on my sleeve. "Cousin, +the man is mad; I ask you to remember that in a moment of just +provocation. It would grieve me if he were your enemy--I should not +sleep for thinking."</p> +<p>"Dorothy," I said, smiling, "I use some weapons better than I do +the war-axe. Are you afraid for me?"</p> +<p>She looked at me seriously. "In that little world which I know +there is much that terrifies men, yet I can say, without boasting, +there is not, in my world, one living creature or one witch or +spirit that I dread--no, not even Catrine Montour!"</p> +<p>"And who is Catrine Montour?" I asked, amused at her +earnestness.</p> +<p>Ere she could reply, Ruyven called from the stairs that Cato had +my tub of water all prepared, and she walked away, nodding a brief +adieu, pausing at the door to give me one sweet, swift smile of +friendly interest.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="IV"></a>IV</h2> +<h3>SIR LUPUS</h3> +<br> +<p>I had bathed and slept, and waked once more to the deep, +resonant notes of a conch-shell blowing; and I still lay abed, +blinking at the sunset through the soiled panes of my western +window, when Cato scraped at the door to enter, bearing my +sea-boxes one by one.</p> +<p>Reaching behind me, I drew the keys from under my pillow and +tossed them to the solemn black, lying still once more to watch him +unlock my boxes and lay out my clothes and linen to the air.</p> +<p>"Company to sup, suh; gemmen from de No'th an' Guy Pahk, suh," +he hinted, rolling his eyes at me and holding up my best +wristbands, made of my mother's lace.</p> +<p>"I shall dress soberly, Cato," said I, yawning. "Give me a +narrow queue-ribbon, too."</p> +<p>The old man mumbled and muttered, fussing about among the boxes +until he found a full suit of silver-gray, silken stockings, and +hound's-tongue shoes to match.</p> +<p>"Dishyere clothes sho' is sober," he reflected aloud. "One li'l +gole vine a-crawlin' on de cuffs, nuvver li'l gole vine a-creepin' +up de wes'coat, gole buckles on de houn'-tongue--Whar de hat? Hat +done loose hisse'f! Here de hat! Gole lace on de hat--Cap'in Ormond +sho' is quality gemm'n. Ef he ain't, how come dishyere gole lace on +de hat?"</p> +<p>"Come, Cato," I remonstrated, "am I dressing for a ball at +Augustine, that you stand there pulling my finery about to choose +and pick? I tell you to give me a sober suit!" I snatched a +flowered robe from the bed's foot-board, pulled it about me, and +stepped to the floor.</p> +<p>Cato brought a chair and bowl, and, when I had washed once more +I seated myself while the old man shook out my hair, dusted it to +its natural brown, then fell to combing and brushing. My hair, with +its obstinate inclination to curl, needed neither iron nor pomade; +so, silvering it with my best French powder, he tied the short +queue with a black ribbon and dusted my shoulders, critically +considering me the while.</p> +<p>"A plain shirt," I said, briefly.</p> +<p>He brought a frilled one.</p> +<p>"I want a plain shirt," I insisted.</p> +<p>"Dishyere sho't am des de plaines' an' de--"</p> +<p>"You villain, don't I know what I want?"</p> +<p>"No, suh!"</p> +<p>And, upon my honor, I could not get that black mule to find me +the shirt that I wished to wear. More than that, he utterly refused +to permit me to dress in a certain suit of mouse-color without +lace, but actually bundled me into the silver-gray, talking volubly +all the while; and I, half laughing and wholly vexed, almost minded +to go burrowing myself among my boxes and risk peppering silk and +velvet with hair-powder.</p> +<p>But he dressed me as it suited him, patting my silk shoes into +shape, smoothing coat-skirt and flowered vest-flap, shaking out the +lace on stock and wrist with all the delicacy and cunning of a +lady's-maid.</p> +<p>"Idiot!" said I, "am I tricked out to please you?"</p> +<p>"You sho' is, Cap'in Ormond, suh," he said, the first faint +approach to a grin that I had seen wrinkling his aged face. And +with that he hung my small-sword, whisked the powder from my +shoulders with a bit of cambric, chose a laced handkerchief for me, +and, ere I could remonstrate, passed a tiny jewelled pin into my +powdered hair, where it sparkled like a frost crystal.</p> +<p>"I'm no macaroni!" I said, angrily; "take it away!"</p> +<p>"Cap'in Ormond, suh, you sho' is de fines' young gemm'n in de +province, suh," he pleaded. "Dess regahd yo'se'f, suh, in dishyere +lookum-glass. What I done tell you? Look foh yo'se'f, suh! Cap'in +Butler gwine see how de quality gemm'n fixes up! Suh John Johnsing +he gwine see! Dat ole Kunnel Butler he gwine see, too! Heah yo' is, +suh, dess a-bloomin' lak de pink-an'-silver ghos' flower wif de +gole heart."</p> +<p>"Cato," I asked, curiously, "why do you take pride in tricking +out a stranger to dazzle your own people?"</p> +<p>The old man stood silent a moment, then looked up with the mild +eyes of an aged hound long privileged in honorable retirement.</p> +<p>"Is you sho' a Ormond, suh?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Cato."</p> +<p>"Might you come f'om de Spanish grants, suh, long de +Halifax?"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes; but we are English now. How did you know I came from +the Halifax?"</p> +<p>"I knowed it, suh; I knowed h'it muss be dat-away!"</p> +<p>"How do you know it, Cato?"</p> +<p>"I spec' you favor yo' pap, suh, de ole Kunnel--"</p> +<p>"My father!"</p> +<p>"Mah ole marster, suh; I was raised 'long Matanzas, suh. Spanish +man done cotch me on de Tomoka an' ship me to Quebec. Ole Suh +William Johnsing, he done buy me; Suh John, he done sell me; Mars +Varick, he buy me; an' hyah ah is, suh--heart dess daid foh de +Halifax san's."</p> +<p>He bent his withered head and laid his face on my hands, but no +tear fell.</p> +<p>After a moment he straightened, snuffled, and smiled, opening +his lips with a dry click.</p> +<p>"H'it's dat-a-way, suh. Ole Cato dess 'bleged to fix up de young +marster. Pride o' fambly, suh. What might you be desirin' now, +Mars' Ormond? One li'l drap o' musk on yoh hanker? Lawd save us, +but you sho' is gallus dishyere day! Spec' Miss Dorry gwine blink +de vi'lets in her eyes. Yaas, suh. Miss Dorry am de only one, suh; +de onliest Ormond in dishyere fambly. Seem mos' lak she done throw +back to our folk, suh. Miss Dorry ain' no Varick; Miss Dorry all +Ormond, suh, dess lak you an' me! Yaas, suh, h'its dat-a-way; h'it +sho' is, Mars' Ormond."</p> +<p>I drew a deep, quivering breath. Home seemed so far, and the old +slave would never live to see it. I felt as though this steel-cold +North held me, too, like a trap--never to unclose.</p> +<p>"Cato," I said, abruptly, "let us go home."</p> +<p>He understood; a gleam of purest joy flickered in his eyes, then +died out, quenched in swelling tears.</p> +<p>He wept awhile, standing there in the centre of the room, +smearing the tears away with the flapping sleeves of his tarnished +livery, while, like a committed panther, I paced the walls, to and +fro, to and fro, heart aching for escape.</p> +<p>The light in the west deepened above the forests; a long, +glowing crack opened between two thunderous clouds, like a hint of +hidden hell, firing the whole sky. And in the blaze the crows +winged, two and two, like witches flying home to the infernal pit, +now all ablaze and kindling coal on coal along the dark sky's +sombre brink.</p> +<p>Then the red bars faded on my wall to pink, to ashes; a fleck of +rosy cloud in mid-zenith glimmered and went out, and the round +edges of the world were curtained with the night.</p> +<p>Behind me, Cato struck flint and lighted two tall candles; +outside the lawn, near the stockade, a stable-lad set a conch-horn +to his lips, blowing a deep, melodious cattle-call, and far away I +heard them coming--tin, ton! tin, ton! tinkle!--through the woods, +slowly, slowly, till in the freshening dusk I smelled their milk +and heard them lowing at the unseen pasture-bars.</p> +<p>I turned sharply; the candle-light dazzled me. As I passed Cato, +the old man bowed till his coat-cuffs hung covering his dusky, +wrinkled fingers.</p> +<p>"When we go, we go together, Cato," I said, huskily, and so +passed on through the brightly lighted hallway and down the +stairs.</p> +<p>Candle-light glimmered on the dark pictures, the rusted circles +of arms, the stags' heads with their dusty eyes. A servant in +yellow livery, lounging by the door, rose from the settle as I +appeared and threw open the door on the left, announcing, "Cap'm +Ormond!" in a slovenly fashion which merited a rebuke from +somebody.</p> +<p>The room into which the yokel ushered me appeared to be a +library, low of ceiling, misty with sour pipe smoke, which curled +and floated level, wavering as the door closed behind me.</p> +<p>Through the fog, which nigh choked me with its staleness, I +perceived a bulky gentleman seated at ease, sucking a long clay +pipe, his bulging legs cocked up on a card-table, his little, +inflamed eyes twinkling red in the candle-light.</p> +<a name="352.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/352.jpg"><img src="images/352.jpg" +width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"YOU'RE MY COUSIN, GEORGE ORMOND, OR I'M THE FATTEST LIAR SOUTH +OF MONTREAL!".</b></p> +<p>"Captain Ormond?" he cried. "Captain be damned; you're my +cousin, George Ormond, or I'm the fattest liar south of Montreal! +Who the devil put 'em up to captaining you--eh? Was it that minx +Dorothy? Dammy, I took it that the old Colonel had come to plague +me from his grave--your father, sir! And a cursed fine fellow, if +he was second cousin to a Varick, which he could not help, not +he!--though I've heard him damn his luck to my very face, sir! Yes, +sir, under my very nose!"</p> +<p>He fell into a fit of fat coughing, and seized a glass of +spirits-and-water which stood on the table near his feet. The +draught allayed his spasm; he wiped his broad, purple face, +chuckled, tossed off the last of the liquor with a smack, and held +out a mottled, fat hand, bare of wrist-lace. "Here's my heart with +it, George!" he cried. "I'd stand up to greet you, but it takes ten +minutes for me to find these feet o' mine, so I'll not keep you +waiting. There's a chair; fill it with that pretty body of yours; +cock up your feet--here's a pipe--here's snuff--here's the best rum +north o' Norfolk, which that ass Dunmore laid in ashes to spite +those who kicked him out!"</p> +<p>He squeezed my hand affectionately. "Pretty bird! Dammy, but +you'll break a heart or two, you rogue! Oh, you are your father all +over again; it's that way with you Ormonds--all alike, and handsome +as that young devil Lucifer; too proud to be proud o' your dukes +and admirals, and a thousand years of waiting on your King. As lads +together your father used to take me by the ear and cuff me, +crying, 'Beast! beast! You eat and drink too much! An Ormond's +heart lies not in his belly!' And I kicked back, fighting stoutly +for the crust he dragged me from. Dammy, why not? There's more +Dutch Varick than Irish Ormond in me. Remember that, George, and we +shall get on famously together, you and I. Forget it, and we +quarrel. Hey! fill that tall Italian glass for a toast. I give you +the family, George. May they keep tight hold on what is theirs +through all this cursed war-folly. Here's to the patroons, God +bless 'em!"</p> +<p>Forced by courtesy to drink ere I had yet tasted meat, I did my +part with the best grace I could muster, turning the beautiful +glass downward, with a bow to my host.</p> +<p>"The same trick o' grace in neck and wrist," he muttered, +thickly, wiping his lips. "All Ormond, all Ormond, George, like +that vixen o' mine, Dorothy. Hey! It's not too often that good +blood throws back; the mongrel shows oftenest; but that big chit of +a lass is no Varick; she's Ormond to the bones of her. Ruyven's a +red-head; there's red in the rest o' them, and the slow Dutch +blood. But Dorothy's eyes are like those wild iris-blooms that +purple all our meadows, and she has the Ormond hair--that thick, +dull gold, which that French Ormond, of King Stephen's time, was +dowered with by his Saxon mother, Helen. Eh? You see, I read it in +that book your father left us. If I'm no Ormond, I like to find out +why, and I love to dispute the Ormond claim which Walter Butler +makes--he with his dark face and hair, and those dusky, golden eyes +of his, which turn so yellow when I plague him--the mad wild-cat +that he is."</p> +<p>Another fit of choking closed his throat, and again he soaked it +open with his chilled toddy, rattling the stick to stir it well ere +he drained it at a single, gobbling gulp.</p> +<p>A faint disgust took hold on me, to sit there smothering in the +fumes of pipe and liquor, while my gross kinsman guzzled and +gabbled and guzzled again.</p> +<p>"George," he gasped, mopping his crimsoned face, "I'll tell you +now that we Varicks and you Ormonds must stand out for neutrality +in this war. The Butlers mean mischief; they're mad to go to +fighting, and that means our common ruin. They'll be here to-night, +damn them."</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus," I ventured, "we are all kinsmen, the Butlers, the +Varicks, and the Ormonds. We are to gather here for self-protection +during this rebellion. I am sure that in the presence of this +common danger there can arise no family dissension."</p> +<p>"Yes, there can!" he fairly yelled. "Here am I risking life and +property to persuade these Butlers that their interest lies in +strictest neutrality. If Schuyler at Albany knew they visited me, +his dragoons would gallop into Varick Manor and hang me to my barn +door! Here am I, I say, doing my best to keep 'em quiet, and +there's Sir John Johnson and all that bragging crew from Guy Park +combating me--nay, would you believe their impudence?--striving to +win me to arm my tenantry for this King of England, who has done +nothing for me, save to make a knight of me to curry favor with the +Dutch patroons in New York province--or state, as they call it now! +And now I have you to count on for support, and we'll whistle +another jig for them to-night, I'll warrant!"</p> +<p>He seized his unfilled glass, looked into it, and pushed it from +him peevishly.</p> +<p>"Dammy," he said, "I'll not budge for them! I have thousands of +acres, hundreds of tenants, farms, sugar-bushes, manufactories for +pearl-ash, grist-mills, saw-mills, and I'm damned if I draw sword +either way! Am I a madman, to risk all this? Am I a common fool, to +chance anything now? Do they think me in my dotage? Indeed, sir, if +I drew blade, if I as much as raised a finger, both sides would +come swarming all over us--rebels a-looting and a-shooting, Indians +whooping off my cattle, firing my barns, scalping my +tenants--rebels at heart every one, and I'd not care tuppence who +scalped 'em but that they pay me rent!"</p> +<p>He clinched his fat fists and beat the air angrily.</p> +<p>"I'm lord of this manor!" he bawled. "I'm Patroon Varick, and +I'll do as I please!"</p> +<p>Amazed and mortified at his gross frankness, I sat silent, not +knowing what to say. Interest alone swayed him; the right and wrong +of this quarrel were nothing to him; he did not even take the +trouble to pay a hypocrite's tribute to principle ere he turned his +back on it; selfishness alone ruled, and he boasted of it, waving +his short, fat arms in anger, or struggling to extend them +heavenward, in protest against these people who dared urge him to +declare himself and stand or fall with the cause he might +embrace.</p> +<p>A faint disgust stirred my pulse. We Ormonds had as much to lose +as he, but yelled it not to the skies, nor clamored of gain and +loss in such unseemly fashion, ignoring higher motive.</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus," I said, "if we can remain neutral with honor, that +surely is wisest. But can we?"</p> +<p>"Remain neutral! Of course we can!" he shouted.</p> +<p>"Honorably?"</p> +<p>"Eh? Where's honor in this mob-rule that breaks out in Boston to +spot the whole land with a scurvy irruption! Honor? Where is it in +this vile distemper which sets old neighbors here a-itching to cut +each other's throats? One says, 'You're a Tory! Take that!' and +slips a knife into him. T'other says, 'You're a rebel!' Bang!--and +blows his head off! Honor? Bah!"</p> +<p>He removed his wig to wipe his damp and shiny pate, then set the +wig on askew and glared at me out of his small, ruddy eyes.</p> +<p>"I'm for peace," he said, "and I care not who knows it. Then, +whether Tory or rebel win the day, here am I, holding to my own +with both hands and caring nothing which rag flies overhead, so +that it brings peace and plenty to honest folk. And, mark me, then +we shall live to see these plumed and gold-laced glory-mongers +slinking round to beg their bread at our back doors. Dammy, let 'em +bellow now! Let 'em shout for war! I'll keep my mills busy and my +agent walking the old rent-beat. If they can fill their bellies +with a mess of glory I'll not grudge them what they can snatch; but +I'll fill mine with food less spiced, and we'll see which of us +thrives best--these sons of Mars or the old patroon who stays at +home and dips his nose into nothing worse than old Madeira!"</p> +<p>He gave me a cunning look, pushed his wig partly straight, and +lay back, puffing quietly at his pipe.</p> +<p>I hesitated, choosing my words ere I spoke; and at first he +listened contentedly, nodding approval, and pushing fresh tobacco +into his clay with a fat forefinger.</p> +<p>I pointed out that it was my desire to save my lands from +ravage, ruin, and ultimate confiscation by the victors; that for +this reason he had summoned me, and I had come to confer with him +and with other branches of our family, seeking how best this might +be done.</p> +<p>I reminded him that, from his letters to me, I had acquired a +fair knowledge of the estates endangered; that I understood that +Sir John Johnson owned enormous tracts in Tryon County which his +great father, Sir William, had left him when he died; that Colonel +Claus, Guy Johnson, the Butlers, father and son, and the Varicks, +all held estates of greatest value; and that these estates were +menaced, now by Tory, now by rebel, and the lords of these broad +manors were alternately solicited and threatened by the warring +factions now so bloodily embroiled.</p> +<p>"We Ormonds can comprehend your dismay, your distress, your +doubts," I said. "Our indigo grows almost within gunshot of the +British outpost at New Smyrna; our oranges, our lemons, our cane, +our cotton, must wither at a blast from the cannon of Saint +Augustine. The rebels in Georgia threaten us, the Tories at +Pensacola warn us, the Seminoles are gathering, the Minorcans are +arming, the blacks in the Carolinas watch us, and the British +regiments at Augustine are all itching to ravage and plunder and +drive us into the sea if we declare not for the King who pays +them."</p> +<p>Sir Lupus nodded, winked, and fell to slicing tobacco with a +small, gold knife.</p> +<p>"We're all Quakers in these days--eh, George? We can't +fight--no, we really can't! It's wrong, George,--oh, very wrong." +And he fell a-chuckling, so that his paunch shook like a jelly.</p> +<p>"I think you do not understand me," I said.</p> +<p>He looked up quickly.</p> +<p>"We Ormonds are only waiting to draw sword."</p> +<p>"Draw sword!" he cried. "What d'ye mean?"</p> +<p>"I mean that, once convinced our honor demands it, we cannot +choose but draw."</p> +<p>"Don't be an ass!" he shouted. "Have I not told you that there's +no honor in this bloody squabble? Lord save the lad, he's mad as +Walter Butler!"</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus," I said, angrily, "is a man an ass to defend his own +land?"</p> +<p>"He is when it's not necessary! Lie snug; nobody is going to +harm you. Lie snug, with both arms around your own land."</p> +<p>"I meant my own native land, not the miserable acres my slaves +plant to feed and clothe me."</p> +<p>He glared, twisting his long pipe till the stem broke short.</p> +<p>"Well, which land do you mean to defend, England or these +colonies?" he asked, staring.</p> +<p>"That is what I desire to learn, sir," I said, respectfully. +"That is why I came North. With us in Florida, all is, so far, +faction and jealousy, selfish intrigue and prejudiced dispute. The +truth, the vital truth, is obscured; the right is hidden in a petty +storm where local tyrants fill the air with dust, striving each to +blind the other."</p> +<p>I leaned forward earnestly. "There must be right and wrong in +this dispute; Truth stands naked somewhere in the world. It is for +us to find her. Why, mark me, Sir Lupus, men cannot sit and blink +at villany, nor look with indifference on a struggle to the death. +One side is right, t'other wrong. And we must learn how matters +stand."</p> +<p>"And what will it advance us to learn how matters stand?" he +said, still staring, as though I were some persistent fool vexing +him with unleavened babble. "Suppose these rebels are right--and, +dammy, but I think they are--and suppose our King's troops are +roundly trouncing them--and I think they are, too--do you mean to +say you'd draw sword and go a-prowling, seeking for some obliging +enemy to knock you in the head or hang you for a rebel to your +neighbor's apple-tree?"</p> +<p>"Something of that sort," I said, good-humoredly.</p> +<p>"Oh, Don Quixote once more, eh?" he sneered, too mad to raise +his voice to the more convenient bellow which seemed to soothe him +as much as it distressed his listener. "Well, you've got a fool's +mate in Sir George Covert, the insufferable dandy! And all you two +need is a pair o' Panzas and a brace of windmills. Bah!" He grew +angrier. "Bah, I say!" He broke out: "Damnation, sir! Go to the +devil!"</p> +<p>I said, calmly: "Sir Lupus, I hear your observation with +patience; I naturally receive your admonition with respect, but +your bearing towards me I resent. Pray, sir, remember that I am +under your roof <i>now</i>, but when I quit it I am free to call +you to account."</p> +<p>"What! You'd fight me?"</p> +<p>"Scarcely, sir; but I should expect somebody to make your words +good."</p> +<p>"Bah! Who? Ruyven? He's a lad! Dorothy is the only one to--" He +broke out into a hoarse laugh. "Oh, you Ormonds! I might have saved +myself the pains. And now you want to flesh your sword, it matters +not in whom--Tory, rebel, neutral folk, they're all one to you, so +that you fight! George, don't take offence; I naturally swear at +those I differ with. I may love 'em and yet curse 'em like a +sailor! Know me better, George! Bear with me; let me swear at you, +lad! It's all I can do."</p> +<p>He spread out his fat hands imploringly, recrossing his enormous +legs on the card-table. "I can't fight, George; I would gladly, but +I'm too fat. Don't grudge me a few kindly oaths now and then. It's +all I can do."</p> +<p>I was seized with a fit of laughter, utterly uncontrollable. Sir +Lupus observed me peevishly, twiddling his broken pipe, and I saw +he longed to launch it at my head, which made me laugh till his +large, round, red face grew grayer and foggier through the +mirth-mist in my eyes.</p> +<p>"Am I so droll?" he snapped.</p> +<p>"Oh yes, yes, Sir Lupus," I cried, weakly. "Don't grudge me this +laugh. It is all I can do."</p> +<p>A grim smile came over his broad face.</p> +<p>"Touched!" he said. "I've a fine pair on my hands now--you and +Sir George Covert--to plague me and prick me with your wit, like +mosquitoes round a drowsy man. A fine family conference we shall +have, with Sir John Johnson and the Butlers shooting one way, you +and Sir George Covert firing t'other, and me betwixt you, singing +psalms and getting all your arrows in me, fore and aft."</p> +<p>"Who is Sir George Covert?" I asked.</p> +<p>"One o' the Calverts, Lord Baltimore's kin, a sort of cousin of +the Ormond-Butlers, a supercilious dandy, a languid macaroni; +plagues me, damn his impudence, but I can't hate him--no! Hate him? +Faith, I owe him more than any man on earth ... and love him for +it--which is strange!"</p> +<p>"Has he an estate in jeopardy?" I inquired.</p> +<p>"Yes. He has a mansion in Albany, too, which he leases. He +bought a mile on the great Vlaic and lives there all alone, +shooting, fishing, playing the guitar o' moony nights, which they +say sets the wild-cats wilder. Mark me, George, a petty mile square +and a shooting shanty, and this languid ass says he means to fight +for it. Lord help the man! I told him I'd buy him out to save him +from embroiling us all, and what d' ye think? He stared at me +through his lorgnons as though I had been some queer, new bird, +and, says he, 'Lud!' says he,' there's a world o' harmless sport in +you yet, Sir Lupus, but you don't spell your title right,' says he. +'Change the <i>a</i> to an <i>o</i> and add an <i>ell</i> for good +measure, and there you have it,' says he, a-drawling. With which he +minced off, dusting his nose with his lace handkerchief, and I'm +damned if I see the joke yet in spelling patroon with an <i>o</i> +for the <i>a</i> and an <i>ell</i> for good measure!"</p> +<p>He paused, out of breath, to pour himself some spirits. "Joke?" +he muttered. "Where the devil is it? I see no wit in that." And he +picked up a fresh pipe from the rack on the table and moistened the +clay with his fat tongue.</p> +<p>We sat in silence for a while. That this Sir George Covert +should call the patroon a poltroon hurt me, for he was kin to us +both; yet it seemed that there might be truth in the insolent +fling, for selfishness and poltroonery are too often linked.</p> +<p>I raised my eyes and looked almost furtively at my cousin +Varick. He had no neck; the spot where his bullet head joined his +body was marked only by a narrow and soiled stock. His eyes alone +relieved the monotony of a stolid countenance; all else was +fat.</p> +<p>Sunk in my own reflections, lying back in my arm-chair, I +watched dreamily the smoke pouring from the patroon's pipe, +floating away, to hang wavering across the room, now lifting, now +curling downward, as though drawn by a hidden current towards the +unwaxed oaken floor.</p> +<p>No, there was no Ormond in him; he was all Varick, all Dutch, +all patroon.</p> +<p>I had never seen any man like him save once, when a red-faced +Albany merchant came a-waddling to the sea-islands looking for +cotton and indigo, and we all despised him for the eagerness with +which he trimmed his shillings at the Augustine taverns. Thrift is +a word abused, and serves too often as a mask for avarice.</p> +<p>As I sat there fashioning wise saws and proverbs in my busy +mind, the hall door opened and the first guest was announced--Sir +George Covert.</p> +<p>And in he came, a well-built, lazy gentleman of forty, swinging +gracefully on a pair o' legs no man need take shame in; ruffles on +cuff and stock, hair perfumed, powdered, and rolled twice in French +puffs, and on his hand a brilliant that sparkled purest fire. Under +one arm he bore his gold-edged hat, and as he strolled forward, +peering coolly about him through his quizzing glass, I thought I +had never seen such graceful assurance, nor such insolently +handsome eyes, marred by the faint shadows of dissipation.</p> +<p>Sir Lupus nodded a welcome and blew a great cloud of smoke into +the air.</p> +<p>"Ah," observed Sir George, languidly, "Vesuvius in +irruption?"</p> +<p>"How de do," said Sir Lupus, suspiciously.</p> +<p>"The mountain welcomes Mohammed," commented Sir George. +"Mohammed greets the mountain! How de do, Sir Lupus! Ah!" He turned +gracefully towards me, bowing. "Pray present me, Sir Lupus."</p> +<p>"My cousin, George Ormond," said Sir Lupus. "George first, +George second," he added, with a sneer.</p> +<p>"No relation to George III., I trust, sir?" inquired Sir George, +anxiously, offering his cool, well-kept hand.</p> +<p>"No," said I, laughing at his serious countenance and returning +his clasp firmly.</p> +<p>"That's well, that's well," murmured Sir George, apparently +vastly relieved, and invited me to take snuff with him.</p> +<p>We had scarcely exchanged a civil word or two ere the servant +announced Captain Walter Butler, and I turned curiously, to see a +dark, graceful young man enter and stand for a moment staring +haughtily straight at me. He wore a very elegant black-and-orange +uniform, without gorget; a black military cloak hung from his +shoulders, caught up in his sword-knot.</p> +<p>With a quick movement he raised his hand and removed his +officer's hat, and I saw on his gauntlets of fine doeskin the +Ormond arms, heavily embroidered. Instantly the affectation +displeased me.</p> +<p>"Come to the mountain, brother prophet," said Sir George, waving +his hand towards the seated patroon. He came, lightly as a panther, +his dark, well-cut features softening a trifle; and I thought him +handsome in his uniform, wearing his own dark hair unpowdered, tied +in a short queue; but when he turned full face to greet Sir George +Covert, I was astonished to see the cruelty in his almost perfect +features, which were smooth as a woman's, and lighted by a pair of +clear, dark-golden eyes.</p> +<p>Ah, those wonderful eyes of Walter Butler--ever-changing eyes, +now almost black, glimmering with ardent fire, now veiled and +amber, now suddenly a shallow yellow, round, staring, blank as the +eyes of a caged eagle; and, still again, piercing, glittering, +narrowing to a slit. Terrible mad eyes, that I have never +forgotten--never, never can forget.</p> +<p>As Sir Lupus named me, Walter Butler dropped Sir George's hand +and grasped mine, too eagerly to please me.</p> +<p>"Ormond and Ormond-Butler need no friends to recommend them each +to the other," he said. And straightway fell a-talking of the +greatness of the Arrans and the Ormonds, and of that duke who, +attainted, fled to France to save his neck.</p> +<p>I strove to be civil, yet he embarrassed me before the others, +babbling of petty matters interesting only to those whose taste +invites them to go burrowing in parish records and ill-smelling +volumes written by some toad-eater to his patron.</p> +<p>For me, I am an Ormond, and I know that it would be shameful if +I turned rascal and besmirched my name. As to the rest--the dukes, +the glory, the greatness--I hold it concerns nobody but the dead, +and it is a foolishness to plague folks' ears by boasting of deeds +done by those you never knew, like a Seminole chanting ere he +strikes the painted post.</p> +<p>Also, this Captain Walter Butler was overlarding his phrases +with "Cousin Ormond," so that I was soon cloyed, and nigh ready to +damn the relationship to his face.</p> +<p>Sir Lupus, who had managed to rise by this time, waddled off +into the drawing-room across the hallway, motioning us to follow; +and barely in time, too, for there came, shortly, Sir John Johnson +with a company of ladies and gentlemen, very gay in their damasks, +brocades, and velvets, which the folds of their foot-mantles, +capuchins, and cardinals revealed.</p> +<p>The gentlemen had come a-horseback, and all wore very elegant +uniforms under their sober cloaks, which were linked with gold +chains at the throat; the ladies, prettily powdered and patched, +appeared a trifle over-colored, and their necks and shoulders, +innocent of buffonts, gleamed pearl-tinted above their gay +breast-knots. And they made a sparkling bevy as they fluttered up +the staircase to their cloak-room, while Sir John entered the +drawing-room, followed by the other gentlemen, and stood in +careless conversation with the patroon, while old Cato +disembarrassed him of cloak and hat.</p> +<p>Sir John Johnson, son of the great Sir William, as I first saw +him was a man of less than middle age, flabby, cold-eyed, heavy of +foot and hand. On his light-colored hair he wore no powder; the +rather long queue was tied with a green hair-ribbon; the thick, +whitish folds of his double chin rested on a buckled stock.</p> +<p>For the rest, he wore a green-and-gold uniform of very elegant +cut--green being the garb of his regiment, the Royal Greens, as I +learned afterwards--and his buff-topped boots and his metals were +brilliant and plainly new.</p> +<p>When the patroon named me to him he turned his lack-lustre eyes +on me and offered me a large, damp hand.</p> +<p>In turn I was made acquainted with the several officers in his +suite--Colonel John Butler, father of Captain Walter Butler, broad +and squat, a withered prophecy of what the son might one day be; +Colonel Daniel Claus, a rather merry and battered Indian fighter; +Colonel Guy Johnson, of Guy Park, dark and taciturn; a Captain +Campbell, and a Captain McDonald of Perth.</p> +<p>All wore the green uniform save the Butlers; all greeted me with +particular civility and conducted like the respectable company they +appeared to be, politely engaging me in pleasant conversation, +desiring news from Florida, or complimenting me upon my courtesy, +which, they vowed, had alone induced me to travel a thousand miles +for the sake of permitting my kinsmen the pleasure of welcoming +me.</p> +<p>One by one the gentlemen retired to exchange their spurred +top-boots for white silk stockings and silken pumps, and to arrange +their hair or stick a patch here and there, and rinse their hands +in rose-water to cleanse them of the bridle's odor.</p> +<p>They were still thronging the gun-room, and I stood alone in the +drawing-room with Sir George Covert, when a lady entered and +courtesied low as we bowed together.</p> +<p>And truly she was a beauty, with her skin of rose-ivory, her +powdered hair a-gleam with brilliants, her eyes of purest violet, a +friendly smile hovering on her fresh, scarlet mouth.</p> +<p>"Well, sir," she said, "do you not know me?" And to Sir George: +"I vow, he takes me for a guest in my own house!"</p> +<p>And then I knew my cousin Dorothy Varick.</p> +<a name="353.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/353.jpg"><img src="images/353.jpg" +width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"SHE SUFFERED US TO SALUTE HER HAND".</b></p> +<p>She suffered us to salute her hand, gazing the while about her +indifferently; and, as I released her slender fingers and raised my +head, she, rounded arm still extended as though forgotten, snapped +her thumb and forefinger together in vexation with a "Plague on it! +There's that odious Sir John!"</p> +<p>"Is Sir John Johnson so offensive to your ladyship?" inquired +Sir George, lazily.</p> +<p>"Offensive! Have you not heard how the beast drank wine from my +slipper! Never mind! I cannot endure him. Sir George, you must sit +by me at table--and you, too, Cousin Ormond, or he'll come +bothering." She glanced at the open door of the gun-room, a frown +on her white brow. "Oh, they're all here, I see. Sparks will fly +ere sun-up. There's Campbell, and McDonald, too, wi' the memory of +Glencoe still stewing betwixt them; and there's Guy Johnson, with a +price on his head--and plenty to sell it for him in County Tryon, +gentlemen! And there's young Walter Butler, cursing poor Cato that +he touched his spur in drawing off his boots--if he strikes Cato +I'll strike him! And where are their fine ladies, Sir George? Still +primping at the mirror? Oh, la!" She stepped back, laughing, +raising her lovely arms a little. "Look at me. Am I well laced, +with nobody to aid me save Cecile, poor child, and Benny to hold +the candles--he being young enough for the office?"</p> +<p>"Happy, happy Benny!" murmured Sir George, inspecting her +through his quizzing-glass from head to toe.</p> +<p>"If you think it a happy office you may fill it yourself in +future, Sir George," she said. "I never knew an ass who failed to +bray in ecstasy at mention of a pair o' stays."</p> +<p>Sir George stared, and said, "Aha! clever--very, very clever!" +in so patronizing a tone that Dorothy reddened and bit her lip in +vexation.</p> +<p>"That is ever your way," she said, "when I parry you to your +confusion. Take your eyes from me, Sir George! Cousin Ormond, am I +dressed to your taste or not?"</p> +<p>She stood there in her gown of brocade, beautifully flowered in +peach color, dainty, confident, challenging me to note one fault. +Nor could I, from the gold hair-pegs in her hair to the tip of her +slim, pompadour shoes peeping from the lace of her petticoat, which +she lifted a trifle to show her silken, flowered hose.</p> +<p>And--"There!" she cried, "I gowned myself, and I wear no paint. +I wish you would tell them as much when they laugh at me."</p> +<p>Now came the ladies, rustling down the stairway, and the +gentlemen, strolling in from their toilet and stirrup-cups in the +gun-room, and I noted that all wore service-swords, and laid their +pistols on the table in the drawing-room.</p> +<p>"Do they fear a surprise?" I whispered to Sir George Covert.</p> +<p>"Oh yes; Jack Mount and the Stoners are abroad. But Sir John has +a troop of his cut-throat horsemen picketed out around us. You see, +Sir John broke his parole, and Walter Butler is attainted, and it +might go hard with some of these gentlemen if General Schuyler's +dragoons caught them here, plotting nose to nose."</p> +<p>"Who is this Jack Mount?" I asked, curiously, remembering my +companion of the Albany road.</p> +<p>"One of Cresap's riflemen," he drawled, "sent back here from +Boston to raise the country against the invasion. They say he was a +highwayman once, but we Tories"--he laughed shamelessly--"say many +things in these days which may not help us at the judgment day. +Wait, there's that little rosebud, Claire Putnam, Sir John's flame. +Take her in to table; she's a pretty little plaything. Lady +Johnson, who was Polly Watts, is in Montreal, you see." He made a +languid gesture with outspread hands, smiling.</p> +<p>The girl he indicated, Mistress Claire Putnam, was a fragile, +willowy creature, over-thin, perhaps, yet wonderfully attractive +and pretty, and there was much of good in her face, and a tinge of +pathos, too, for all her bright vivacity.</p> +<p>"If Sir John Johnson put her away when he wedded Miss Watts," +said Sir George, coolly, "I think he did it from interest and +selfish calculation, not because he ceased to love her in his +bloodless, fishy fashion. And now that Lady Johnson has fled to +Canada, Sir John makes no pretence of hiding his amours in the +society which he haunts; nor does that society take umbrage at the +notorious relationship so impudently renewed. We're a shameless +lot, Mr. Ormond."</p> +<p>At that moment I heard Sir John Johnson, at my elbow, saying to +Sir Lupus: "Do you know what these damned rebels have had the +impudence to do? I can scarce credit it myself, but it is said that +their Congress has adopted a flag of thirteen stripes and thirteen +stars on a blue field, and I'm cursed if I don't believe they mean +to hoist the filthy rag in our very faces!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="V"></a>V</h2> +<h3>A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S</h3> +<br> +<p>Under a flare of yellow candle-light we entered the dining-hall +and seated ourselves before a table loaded with flowers and silver, +and the most beautiful Flemish glass that I have ever seen; though +they say that Sir William Johnson's was finer.</p> +<p>The square windows of the hall were closed, the dusty curtains +closely drawn; the air, though fresh, was heavily saturated with +perfume. Between each window, and higher up, small, square +loop-holes pierced the solid walls. The wooden flap-hoods of these +were open; through them poured the fresh night air, stirring the +clustered flowers and the jewelled aigrets in the ladies' hair.</p> +<p>The spectacle was pretty, even beautiful; at every lady's cover +lay a gift from the patroon, a crystal bosom-glass, mounted in +silver filigree, filled with roses in scented water; and, at the +sight, a gust of hand-clapping swept around the table, like the +rattle of December winds through dry palmettos.</p> +<p>In a distant corner, slaves, dressed fancifully and turbaned +like Barbary blackamoors, played on fiddles and guitars, and the +music was such as I should have enjoyed, loving all melody as I do, +yet could scarcely hear it in the flutter and chatter rising around +me as the ladies placed the bosom-bottles in their stomachers and +opened their Marlborough fans to set them waving all like restless +wings.</p> +<p>Yet, under this surface elegance and display, one could scarcely +choose but note how everywhere an amazing shiftlessness reigned in +the patroon's house. Cobwebs canopied the ceiling-beams with their +silvery, ragged banners afloat in the candle's heat; dust, like a +velvet mantle, lay over the Dutch plates and teapots, ranged on +shelves against the panelled wall midway 'twixt ceiling and unwaxed +floor; the gaudy yellow liveries of the black servants were soiled +and tarnished and ill fitting, and all wore slovenly rolls, tied to +imitate scratch-wigs, the effect of which was amazing. The passion +for cleanliness in the Dutch lies not in their men folk; a Dutch +mistress of this manor house had died o' shame long since--or died +o' scrubbing.</p> +<p>I felt mean and ungracious to sit there spying at my host's +table, and strove to forget it, yet was forced to wipe furtively +spoon and fork upon the napkin on my knees ere I durst acquaint +them with my mouth; and so did others, as I saw; but they did it +openly and without pretence of concealment, and nobody took +offence.</p> +<p>Sir Lupus cared nothing for precedence at table, and said so +when he seated us, which brought a sneer to Sir John Johnson's +mouth and a scowl to Walter Butler's brow; but this provincial +boorishness appeared to be forgotten ere the decanters had slopped +the cloth twice, and fair faces flushed, and voices grew gayer, and +the rattle of silver assaulting china and the mellow ring of +glasses swelled into a steady, melodious din which stirred the +blood to my cheeks.</p> +<p>We Ormonds love gayety--I choose the mildest phrase I know. Yet, +take us at our worst, Irish that we are, and if there be a taint of +license to our revels, and if we drink the devil's toast to the +devil's own undoing, the vital spring of our people remains +unpolluted, the nation's strength and purity unsoiled, guarded +forever by the chastity of our women.</p> +<p>Savoring my claret, I glanced askance at my neighbors; on my +left sat my cousin Dorothy Varick, frankly absorbed in a roasted +pigeon, yet wielding knife and fork with much grace and address; on +my right Magdalen Brant, step-cousin to Sir John, a lovely, +soft-voiced girl, with velvety eyes and the faintest dusky tint, +which showed the Indian blood through the carmine in her fresh, +curved cheeks.</p> +<p>I started to speak to her, but there came a call from the end of +the table, and we raised our glasses to Sir Lupus, for which +civility he expressed his thanks and gave us the ladies, which we +drank standing, and reversed our glasses with a cheer.</p> +<p>Then Walter Butler gave us "The Ormonds and the Earls of Arran," +an amazing vanity, which shamed me so that I sat biting my lip, +furious to see Sir John wink at Colonel Claus, and itching to fling +my glass at the head of this young fool whose brain seemed cracked +with brooding on his pedigree.</p> +<p>Meat was served ere I was called on, but later, a delicious +Burgundy being decanted, all called me with a persistent clamor, so +that I was obliged to ask permission of Sir Lupus, then rise, still +tingling with the memory of the silly toast offered by Walter +Butler.</p> +<p>"I give you," I said, "a republic where self-respect balances +the coronet, where there is no monarch, no high-priest, but only a +clean altar, served by the parliament of a united people. +Gentlemen, raise your glasses to the colonies of America and their +ancient liberties!"</p> +<p>And, amazed at what I had said, and knowing that I had not meant +to say it, I lifted my glass and drained it.</p> +<p>Astonishment altered every face. Walter Butler mechanically +raised his glass, then set it down, then raised it once more, +gazing blankly at me; and I saw others hesitate, as though striving +to recollect the exact terms of my toast. But, after a second's +hesitation, all drank sitting. Then each looked inquiringly at me, +at neighbors, puzzled, yet already partly reassured.</p> +<p>"Gad!" said Colonel Claus, bluntly, "I thought at first that +Burgundy smacked somewhat of Boston tea."</p> +<p>"The Burgundy's sound enough," said Colonel John Butler, +grimly.</p> +<p>"So is the toast," bawled Sir Lupus. "It's a pacific toast, a +soothing sentiment, neither one thing not t'other. Dammy, it's a +toast no Quaker need refuse."</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus, your permission!" broke out Captain Campbell. +"Gentlemen, it is strange that not one of his Majesty's officers +has proposed the King!" He looked straight at me and said, without +turning his head: "All loyal at this table will fill. Ladies, +gentlemen, I give you his Majesty the King!"</p> +<p>The toast was finished amid cheers. I drained my glass and +turned it down with a bow to Captain Campbell, who bowed to me as +though greatly relieved.</p> +<p>The fiddles, bassoons, and guitars were playing and the slaves +singing when the noise of the cheering died away; and I heard +Dorothy beside me humming the air and tapping the floor with her +silken shoe, while she moistened macaroons in a glass of Madeira +and nibbled them with serene satisfaction.</p> +<p>"You appear to be happy," I whispered.</p> +<p>"Perfectly. I adore sweets. Will you try a dish of cinnamon +cake? Sop it in Burgundy; they harmonize to a most heavenly +taste.... Look at Magdalen Brant, is she not sweet? Her cousin is +Molly Brant, old Sir William's sweetheart, fled to Canada.... She +follows this week with Betty Austin, that black-eyed little +mischief-maker on Sir John's right, who owes her diamonds to Guy +Johnson. La! What a gossip I grow! But it's county talk, and all +know it, and nobody cares save the Albany blue-noses and the Van +Cortlandts, who fall backward with standing too straight--"</p> +<p>"Dorothy," I said, sharply, "a blunted innocence is better than +none, but it's a pity you know so much!"</p> +<p>"How can I help it?" she asked, calmly, dipping another macaroon +into her glass.</p> +<p>"It's a pity, all the same," I said.</p> +<p>"Dew on a duck's back, my friend," she observed, serenely. +"Cousin, if I were fashioned for evil I had been tainted long +since."</p> +<p>She sat up straight and swept the table with a heavy-lidded, +insolent glance, eyebrows raised. The cold purity of her profile, +the undimmed innocence, the childish beauty of the curved cheek, +touched me to the quick. Ah! the white flower to nourish here amid +unconcealed corruption, with petals stainless, with bloom undimmed, +with all its exquisite fragrance still fresh and wholesome in an +air heavy with wine and the odor of dying roses.</p> +<p>I looked around me. Guy Johnson, red in the face, was bending +too closely beside his neighbor, Betty Austin. Colonel Claus talked +loudly across the table to Captain McDonald, and swore fashionable +oaths which the gaunt captain echoed obsequiously. Claire Putnam +coquetted with her paddle-stick fan, defending her roses from Sir +George Covert, while Sir John Johnson stared at them in cold +disapproval; and I saw Magdalen Brant, chin propped on her clasped +hands, close her eyes and breathe deeply while the wine burned her +face, setting torches aflame in either cheek. Later, when I spoke +to her, she laughed pitifully, saying that her ears hummed like +bee-hives. Then she said that she meant to go, but made no +movement; and presently her dark eyes closed again, and I saw the +fever pulse beating in her neck.</p> +<p>Some one had overturned a silver basin full of flowers, and a +servant, sopping up the water, had brushed Walter Butler so that he +flew into a passion and flung a glass at the terrified black, which +set Sir Lupus laughing till he choked, but which enraged me that he +should so conduct in the presence of his host's daughter.</p> +<p>Yet if Sir Lupus could not only overlook it, but laugh at it, I, +certes, had no right to rebuke what to me seemed a gross +insult.</p> +<p>Toasts flew fast now, and there was a punch in a silver bowl as +large as a bushel--and spirits, too, which was strange, seeing that +the ladies remained at table.</p> +<p>Then Captain Campbell would have all to drink the Royal Greens, +standing on chairs, one foot on the table, which appeared to be his +regiment's mess custom, and we did so, the ladies laughing and +protesting, but finally planting their dainty shoes on the edge of +the table; and Magdalen Brant nigh fell off her chair--for lack of +balance, as Sir George Covert protested, one foot alone being too +small to sustain her.</p> +<p>"That Cinderella compliment at our expense!" cried Betty Austin, +but Sir Lupus cried: "Silence all, and keep one foot on the table!" +And a little black slave lad, scarce more than a babe, appeared, +dressed in a lynx-skin, bearing a basket of pretty boxes woven out +of scented grass and embroidered with silk flowers.</p> +<p>At every corner he laid a box, all exclaiming and wondering what +the surprise might be, until the little black, arching his back, +fetched a yowl like a lynx and ran out on all fours.</p> +<p>"The gentlemen will open the boxes! Ladies, keep one foot on the +table!" bawled Sir Lupus. We bent to open the boxes; Magdalen Brant +and Dorothy Varick, each resting a hand on my shoulder to steady +them, peeped curiously down to see. And, "Oh!" cried everybody, as +the lifted box-lids discovered snow-white pigeons sitting on great +gilt eggs.</p> +<p>The white pigeons fluttered out, some to the table, where they +craned their necks and ruffled their snowy plumes; others flapped +up to the loop-holes, where they sat and watched us.</p> +<p>"Break the eggs!" cried the patroon.</p> +<p>I broke mine; inside was a pair of shoe-roses, each set with a +pearl and clasped with a gold pin.</p> +<p>Betty Austin clapped her hands in delight; Dorothy bent double, +tore off the silken roses from each shoe in turn, and I pinned on +the new jewelled roses amid a gale of laughter.</p> +<p>"A health to the patroon!" cried Sir George Covert, and we gave +it with a will, glasses down. Then all settled to our seats once +more to hear Sir George sing a song.</p> +<p>A slave passed him a guitar; he touched the strings and sang +with good taste a song in questionable taste:</p> +<blockquote>"Jeanneton prend sa fauçille."</blockquote> +<p>A delicate melody and neatly done; yet the verse--</p> +<blockquote>"Le deuxième plus habile<br> +L'embrassant sous le menton"--<br> +<br> +made me redden, and the envoi nigh burned me alive<br> +with blushes, yet was rapturously applauded, and the<br> +patroon fell a-choking with his gross laughter.<br> +<br> +Then Walter Butler would sing, and, I confess, did<br> +it well, though the song was sad and the words too<br> +melancholy to please.<br> +<br> +"I know a rebel song," cried Colonel Claus. "Here,<br> +give me that fiddle and I'll fiddle it, dammy if I don't--ay,<br> +and sing it, too!"<br> +<br> +In a shower of gibes and laughter the fiddle was<br> +fetched, and the Indian fighter seized the bow and drew<br> +a most distressful strain, singing in a whining voice:<br> +<br> +"Come hearken to a bloody tale,<br> + Of how the soldiery<br> +Did murder men in Boston,<br> + As you full soon shall see.<br> +It came to pass on March the fifth<br> + Of seventeen-seventy,<br> +A regiment, the twenty-ninth.<br> + Provoked a sad affray!"</blockquote> +<p>"Chorus!" shouted Captain Campbell, beating time:</p> +<blockquote>"Fol-de-rol-de-rol-de-ray--<br> +Provoked a sad affray!"</blockquote> +<p>"That's not in the song!" protested Colonel Claus, but everybody +sang it in whining tones.</p> +<p>"Continue!" cried Captain Campbell, amid a burst of laughter. +And Claus gravely drew his fiddle-bow across the strings and +sang:</p> +<blockquote>"In King Street, by the Butcher's Hall<br> + The soldiers on us fell,<br> +Likewise before their barracks<br> + (It is the truth I tell).<br> +And such a dreadful carnage<br> + In Boston ne'er was known;<br> +They killed Samuel Maverick--<br> + He gave a piteous groan."</blockquote> +<p>And, "Fol-de-rol!" roared Captain Campbell, "He gave a piteous +groan!"</p> +<blockquote>"John Clark he was wounded,<br> + On him they did fire;<br> +James Caldwell and Crispus Attucks<br> + Lay bleeding in the mire;<br> +Their regiment, the twenty-ninth,<br> + Killed Monk and Sam I Gray,<br> +While Patrick Carr lay cold in death<br> + And could not flee away--</blockquote> +<p>"Oh, tally!" broke out Sir John; "are we to listen to such stuff +all night?"</p> +<p>More laughter; and Sir George Covert said that he feared Sir +John Johnson had no sense of humor.</p> +<p>"I have heard that before," said Sir John, turning his cold eyes +on Sir George. "But if we've got to sing at wine, in Heaven's name +let us sing something sensible."</p> +<p>"No, no!" bawled Claus. "This is the abode of folly to-night!" +And he sang a catch from "Pills to Purge Melancholy," as broad a +verse as I cared to hear in such company.</p> +<p>"Cheer up, Sir John!" cried Betty Austin; "there are other +slippers to drink from--"</p> +<p>Sir John stood up, exasperated, but could not face the storm of +laughter, nor could Dorothy, silent and white in her anger; and she +rose to go, but seemed to think better of it and resumed her seat, +disdainful eyes sweeping the table.</p> +<p>"Face the fools," I whispered. "Your confusion is their +victory."</p> +<p>Captain McDonald, stirring the punch, filled all glasses, crying +out that we should drink to our sweethearts in bumpers.</p> +<p>"Drink 'em in wine," protested Captain Campbell, thickly. "Who +but a feckless McDonald wud drink his leddy in poonch?"</p> +<p>"I said poonch!" retorted McDonald, sternly. "If ye wish wine, +drink it; but I'm thinkin' the Argyle Campbells are better judges +o' blood than of red wine.</p> +<p>"Stop that clan-feud!" bawled the patroon, angrily.</p> +<p>But the old clan-feud blazed up, kindled from the +ever-smouldering embers of Glencoe, which the massacre of a whole +clan had not extinguished in all these years.</p> +<p>"And why should an Argyle Campbell judge blood?" cried Captain +Campbell, in a menacing voice.</p> +<p>"And why not?" retorted McDonald. "Breadalbane spilled enough to +teach ye."</p> +<p>"Teach who?"</p> +<p>"Teach you!--and the whole breed o' black Campbells from Perth +to Galway and Fonda's Bush, which ye dub Broadalbin. I had rather +be a Monteith and have the betrayal of Wallace cast in my face than +be a Campbell of Argyle wi' the memory o' Glencoe to follow me to +hell."</p> +<p>"Silence!" roared the patroon, struggling to his feet. Sir +George Covert caught at Captain Campbell's sleeve as he rose; Sir +John Johnson stood up, livid with anger.</p> +<p>"Let this end now!" he said, sternly. "Do officers of the Royal +Greens conduct like yokels at a fair? Answer me, Captain Campbell! +And you, Captain McDonald! Take your seat, sir; and if I hear that +cursed word 'Glencoe' 'again, the first who utters it faces a +court-martial!"</p> +<p>Partly sobered, the Campbell glared mutely at the McDonald; the +latter also appeared to have recovered a portion of his senses and +resumed his seat in silence, glowering at the empty glasses before +him.</p> +<p>"Now be sensible, gentlemen," said Colonel Claus, with a jovial +nod to the patroon; "let pass, let pass. This is no time to raise +the fiery cross in the hills. Gad, there's a new pibroch to march +to these days--</p> +<blockquote>"Pibroch o' Hirokôue!<br> +Pibroch o' Hirokônue!"</blockquote> +<p>he hummed, deliberately, but nobody laughed, and the grave, pale +faces of the women turned questioningly one to the other.</p> +<p>Enemies or allies, there was terror in the name of "Iroquois." +But Walter Butler looked up from his gloomy meditation and raised +his glass with a ghastly laugh.</p> +<p>"I drink to our red allies," he said, slowly drained his glass +till but a color remained in it, then dipped his finger in the +dregs and drew upon the white table-cloth a blood-red cross.</p> +<p>"There's your clan-sign, you Campbells, you McDonalds," he said, +with a terrifying smile which none could misinterpret.</p> +<p>Then Sir George Covert said: "Sir William Johnson knew best. Had +he lived, there had been no talk of the Iroquois as allies or as +enemies."</p> +<p>I said, looking straight at Walter Butler: "Can there be any +serious talk of turning these wild beasts loose against the +settlers of Tryon County?"</p> +<p>"Against rebels," observed Sir John Johnson, coldly. "No loyal +man need fear our Mohawks."</p> +<p>A dead silence followed. Servants, clearing the round table of +silver, flowers, cloth--all, save glasses and decanters--stepped +noiselessly, and I knew the terror of the Iroquois name had +sharpened their dull ears. Then came old Cato, tricked out in +flame-colored plush, bearing the staff of major-domo; and the +servants in their tarnished liveries marshalled behind him and +filed out, leaving us seated before a bare table, with only our +glasses and bottles to break the expanse of polished mahogany and +soiled cloth.</p> +<p>Captain McDonald rose, lifted the steaming kettle from the hob, +and set it on a great, blue tile, and the gentlemen mixed their +spirits thoughtfully, or lighted long, clay pipes.</p> +<p>The patroon, wreathed in smoke, lay back in his great chair and +rattled his toddy-stick for attention--an unnecessary noise, for +all were watching him, and even Walter Butler's gloomy gaze +constantly reverted to that gross, red face, almost buried in thick +tobacco-smoke, like the head of some intemperate and grotesquely +swollen Jupiter crowned with clouds.</p> +<p>The plea of the patroon for neutrality in the war now sweeping +towards the Mohawk Valley I had heard before. So, doubtless, had +those present.</p> +<p>He waxed pathetic over the danger to his vast estate; he pointed +out the conservative attitude of the great patroons and lords of +the manors of Livingston, Cosby, Phillipse, Van Rensselaer, and Van +Cortlandt.</p> +<p>"What about Schuyler?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Schuyler's a fool!" he retorted, angrily. "Any landed +proprietor here can become a rebel general in exchange for his +estate! A fine bargain! A thrifty dicker! Let Philip Schuyler enjoy +his brief reign in Albany. What's the market value of the glory he +exchanged for his broad acres? Can you appraise it, Sir John?"</p> +<p>Then Sir John Johnson arose, and, for the only moment in his +career, he stood upon a principle--a fallacious one, but still a +principle; and for that I respected him, and have never quite +forgotten it, even through the terrible years when he razed and +burned and murdered among a people who can never forget the red +atrocities of his devastations.</p> +<p>Glancing slowly around the table, with his pale, cold eyes +contracting in the candle's glare, he spoke in a voice absolutely +passionless, yet which carried the conviction to all that what he +uttered was hopelessly final:</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus complains that he hazards all, should he cast his +fortunes with his King. Yet I have done that thing. I am to-day a +man with a price set on my head by these rebels of my own country. +My lands, if not already confiscated by rebel commissioners, are +occupied by rebels; my manor-houses, my forts, my mills, my +tenants' farms are held by the rebels and my revenues denied me. I +was confined on parole within the limits of Johnson Hall. They say +I broke my parole, but they lie. It was only when I had certain +news that the Boston rebels were coming to seize my person and +violate a sacred convention that I retired to Canada."</p> +<p>He paused. The explanation was not enough to satisfy me, and I +expected him to justify the arming of Johnson Hall and his +discovered intrigues with the Mohawks which set the rebels on the +march to seize his person. He gave none, resuming quietly:</p> +<p>"I have hazarded a vast estate, vaster than yours, Sir Lupus, +greater than the estates of all these gentlemen combined. I do it +because I owe obedience to the King who has honored me, and for no +other reason on earth. Yet I do it in fullest confidence and belief +that my lands will be restored to me when this rebellion is stamped +on and trodden out to the last miserable spark."</p> +<p>He hesitated, wiped his thin mouth with his laced handkerchief, +and turned directly towards the patroon.</p> +<p>"You ask me to remain neutral. You promise me that, even at this +late hour, my surrender and oath of neutrality will restore me my +estates and guarantee me a peaceful, industrious life betwixt two +tempests. It may be so, Sir Lupus. I think it would be so. But, my +friend, to fail my King when he has need of me is a villainy I am +incapable of. The fortunes of his Majesty are my fortunes; I stand +or fall with him. This is my duty as I see it. And, gentlemen, I +shall follow it while life endures."</p> +<p>He resumed his seat amid absolute silence. Presently the patroon +raised his eyes and looked at Colonel John Butler.</p> +<p>"May we hear from you, sir?" he asked, gravely.</p> +<p>"I trust that all may, one day, hear from Butler's Rangers," he +said.</p> +<p>"And I swear they shall," broke in Walter Butler, his dark eyes +burning like golden coals.</p> +<p>"I think the Royal Greens may make some little noise in the +world," said Captain Campbell, with an oath.</p> +<p>Guy Johnson waved his thin, brown hand towards the patroon: "I +hold my King's commission as intendant of Indian affairs for North +America. That is enough for me. Though they rob me of Guy Park and +every acre, I shall redeem my lands in a manner no man can ever +forget!"</p> +<p>"Gentlemen," added Colonel Claus, in his bluff way, "you all +make great merit of risking property and life in this wretched +teapot tempest; you all take credit for unchaining the Mohawks. But +you give them no credit. What have the Iroquois to gain by aiding +us? Why do they dig up the hatchet, hazarding the only thing they +have--their lives? Because they are led by a man who told the rebel +Congress that the covenant chain which the King gave to the Mohawks +is still unspotted by dishonor, unrusted by treachery, unbroken, +intact, without one link missing! Gentlemen, I give you Joseph +Brant, war-chief of the Mohawk nation! Hiro!"</p> +<p>All filled and drank--save three--Sir George Covert, Dorothy +Varick, and myself.</p> +<p>I felt Walter Butler's glowing eyes upon me, and they seemed to +burn out the last vestige of my patience.</p> +<p>"Don't rise! Don't speak now!" whispered Dorothy, her hand +closing on my arm.</p> +<p>"I must speak," I said, aloud, and all heard me and turned on me +their fevered eyes.</p> +<p>"Speak out, in God's name!" said Sir George Covert, and I rose, +repeating, "In God's name, then!"</p> +<p>"Give no offence to Walter Butler, I beg of you," whispered +Dorothy.</p> +<p>I scarcely heard her; through the candle-light I saw the ring of +eyes shining, all watching me.</p> +<p>"I applaud the loyal sentiments expressed by Sir John Johnson," +I said, slowly. "Devotion to principle is respected by all men of +honor. They tell me that our King has taxed a commonwealth against +its will. You admit his Majesty's right to do so. That ranges you +on one side. Gentlemen," I said, deliberately, "I deny the right of +Englishmen to take away the liberties of Englishmen. That ranges me +on the other side."</p> +<p>A profound silence ensued. The ring of eyes glowed.</p> +<p>"And now," said I, gravely, "that we stand arrayed, each on his +proper side, honestly, loyally differing one from the other, let +us, if we can, strive to avert a last resort to arms. And if we +cannot, let us draw honorably, and trust to God and a stainless +blade!"</p> +<p>I bent my eyes on Walter Butler; he met them with a vacant +glare.</p> +<p>"Captain Butler," I said, "if our swords be to-day stainless, he +who first dares employ a savage to do his work forfeits the right +to bear the arms and title of a soldier."</p> +<p>"Mr. Ormond! Mr. Ormond!" broke in Colonel Claus. "Do you +impeach Lord George Germaine?"</p> +<p>"I care not whom I impeach!" I said, hotly. "If Lord George +Germaine counsels the employment of Indians against Englishmen, +rebels though they be, he is a monstrous villain and a fool!"</p> +<p>"Fool!" shouted Colonel Campbell, choking with rage. "He'd be a +fool to let these rebels win over the Iroquois before we did!"</p> +<p>"What rebel has sought to employ the Indians?" I asked. "If any +in authority have dreamed of such a horror, they are guilty as +though already judged and damned!"</p> +<p>"Mr. Ormond," cut in Guy Johnson, fairly trembling with fury, +"you deal very freely in damnation. Do you perhaps assume the +divine right which you deny your King?"</p> +<p>"And do you find merit in crass treason, sir?" burst out +McDonald, striking the table with clinched fist.</p> +<p>"Treason," cut in Sir John Johnson, "was the undoing of a +certain noble duke in Queen Anne's time."</p> +<p>"You are in error," I said, calmly.</p> +<p>"Was James, Duke of Ormond, not impeached by Mr. Stanhope in +open Parliament?" shouted Captain McDonald.</p> +<p>"The House of Commons," I replied, calmly, "dishonored itself +and its traditions by bringing a bill of attainder against the Duke +of Ormond. That could not make him a traitor."</p> +<p>"He was not a traitor," broke out Walter Butler, white to the +lips, "but you are!"</p> +<p>"A lie," I said.</p> +<p>With the awful hue of death stamped on his face, Walter Butler +rose and faced me; and though they dragged us to our seats, +shouting and exclaiming in the uproar made by falling chairs and +the rush of feet, he still kept his eyes on me, shallow, yellow, +depthless, terrible eyes.</p> +<p>"A nice scene to pass in women's presence!" roared the patroon. +"Dammy, Captain Butler, the fault lies first with you! Withdraw +that word 'traitor,' which touches us all!"</p> +<p>"He has so named himself," said Walter Butler, "Withdraw it! You +foul your own nest, sir!"</p> +<p>A moment passed. "I withdraw it," motioned Butler, with parched +lips.</p> +<p>"Then I withdraw the lie," I said, watching him.</p> +<p>"That is well," roared the patroon. "That is as it should be. +Shall kinsmen quarrel at such a time? Offer your hand, Captain +Butler. Offer yours, George."</p> +<p>"No," I said, and gazed mildly at the patroon.</p> +<p>Sir George Covert rose and sauntered over to my chair. Under +cover of the hubbub, not yet subsided, he said: "I fancy you will +shortly require a discreet friend."</p> +<p>"Not at all, sir," I replied, aloud. "If the war spares Mr. +Butler and myself, then I shall call on you. I've another quarrel +first." All turned to look at me, and I added, "A quarrel touching +the liberties of Englishmen." Sir John Johnson sneered, and it was +hard to swallow, being the sword-master that I am.</p> +<p>But the patroon broke out furiously. "Mr. Ormond honors himself. +If any here so much as looks the word 'coward,' he will answer to +me--old and fat as I am! I've no previous engagement; I care not +who prevails, King or Congress. I care nothing so they leave me my +own! I'm free to resent a word, a look, a breath--ay, the flutter +of a lid, Sir John!"</p> +<p>"Thanks, uncle," I said, touched to the quick. "These gentlemen +are not fools, and only a fool could dream an Ormond coward."</p> +<p>"Ay, a fool!" cried Walter Butler. "I am an Ormond! There is no +cowardice in the blood. He shall have his own time; he is an +Ormond!"</p> +<p>Dorothy Varick raised her bare, white arm and pointed straight +at Walter Butler. "See that your sword remains unspotted, sir," she +said, in a clear voice. "For if you hire the Iroquois to do your +work you stand dishonored, and no true man will meet you on the +field you forfeit!"</p> +<p>"What's that?" cried Sir John, astonished, and Sir George Covert +cried:</p> +<p>"Brava! Bravissima! There speaks the Ormond through the +Varick!"</p> +<p>Walter Butler leaned forward, staring at me. "You refuse to meet +me if I use our Mohawks?"</p> +<p>And Dorothy, her voice trembling a little, picked up the word +from his grinning teeth. "Mohawks understand the word 'honor' +better than do you, Captain Butler, if you are found fighting in +their ranks!"</p> +<p>She laid her hand on my arm, still facing him.</p> +<p>"My cousin shall not cross blade with a soiled blade! He dare +not--if only for my own poor honor's sake!"</p> +<p>Then Colonel Claus rose, thumping violently on the table, and, +"Here's a pretty rumpus!" he bawled, "with all right and all wrong, +and nobody to snuff out the spreading flame, but every one +a-flinging tallow in a fire we all may rue! My God! Are we not all +kinsmen here, gathered to decent council how best to save our bacon +in this pot a-boiling over? If Mr. Ormond and Captain Butler must +tickle sword-points one day, that is no cause for dolorous looks or +hot words--no! Rather is it a family trick, a good, old-fashioned +game that all boys play, and no harm, either. Have I not played it, +too? Has any gentleman present not pinked or been pinked on that +debatable land we call the field of honor? Come, kinsmen, we have +all had too much wine--or too little."</p> +<p>"Too little!" protested Captain Campbell, with a forced laugh; +and Betty Austin loosed her tongue for the first time to cry out +that her mouth was parched wi' swallowing so many words all +piping-hot. Whereat one or two laughed, and Colonel John Butler +said:</p> +<p>Neither Mr. Ormond nor Sir George Covert are rebels. They differ +from us in this matter touching on the Iroquois. If they think we +soil our hands with war-paint, let them keep their own wristbands +clean, but fight for their King as sturdily as shall we this time +next month."</p> +<p>"That is a very pleasant view to take," observed Sir George, +with a smile.</p> +<p>"A sensible view," suggested Campbell.</p> +<p>"Amiable," said Sir George, blandly.</p> +<p>"Oh, let us fill to the family!" broke in McDonald, impatiently. +"It's dry work cursing your friends! Fill up, Campbell, and I'll +forget Glencoe ... while I'm drinking."</p> +<p>"Mr. Ormond," said Walter Butler, in a low voice, "I cannot +credit ill of a man of your name. You are young and hot-blooded, +and you perhaps lack as yet a capacity for reflection. I shall look +for you among us when the time comes. No Ormond can desert his +King."</p> +<p>"Let it rest so, Captain Butler," I said, soberly. "I will say +this: when I rose I had not meant to say all that I said. But I +believe it to be the truth, though I chose the wrong moment to +express it. If I change this belief I will say so."</p> +<p>And so the outburst of passion sank to ashes; and if the fire +was not wholly extinguished, it at least lay covered, like the +heart of a Seminole council-fire after the sachems have risen and +departed with covered heads.</p> +<p>Drinking began again. The ladies gathered in a group, whispering +and laughing their relief at the turn affairs were taking--all save +Dorothy, who sat serenely beside me, picking the kernels from +walnut-shells and sipping a glass of port.</p> +<p>Sir John Johnson found a coal in the embers on the hearth, and, +leaning half over the table, began to draw on the table-cloth a +rude map of Tryon County.</p> +<p>"All know," he said, "that the province of New York is the key +to the rebel strength. While they hold West Point and Albany and +Stanwix, they hold Tryon County by the throat. Let them occupy +Philadelphia. Who cares? We can take it when we choose. Let them +hold their dirty Boston; let the rebel Washington sneak around the +Jerseys. Who cares? There'll be the finer hunting for us later. +Gentlemen, as you know, the invasion of New York is at hand--has +already begun. And that's no secret from the rebels, either; they +may turn and twist and double here in New York province, but they +can't escape the trap, though they saw it long ago."</p> +<p>He raised his head and glanced at me.</p> +<p>"Here is a triangle," he said; "that triangle is New York +province. Here is Albany, the objective of our three armies, the +gate of Tryon County, the plague-spot we are to cleanse, and the +military centre. Now mark! Burgoyne moves through the lakes, south, +reducing Ticonderoga and Edward, routing the rats out of Saratoga, +and approaches Albany--so. Clinton moves north along the Hudson to +meet him--so--forcing the Highlands at Peekskill, taking West Point +or leaving it for later punishment. Nothing can stop him; he meets +Burgoyne here, at Albany."</p> +<p>Again he looked at me. "You see, sir, that from two angles of +the triangle converging armies depart towards a common +objective."</p> +<p>"I see," I said.</p> +<p>"Now," he resumed, "the third force, under Colonel Barry St. +Leger--to which my regiment and the regiment of Colonel Butler have +the honor to be attached--embarks from Canada, sails up the St. +Lawrence, disembarks at Oswego, on Lake Erie, marches straight on +Stanwix, reduces it, and joins the armies of Clinton and Burgoyne +at Albany."</p> +<p>He stood up, casting his bit of wood-coal on the cloth before +him.</p> +<p>"That, sir," he said to me, "is the plan of campaign, which the +rebels know and cannot prevent. That means the invasion of New +York, the scouring out of every plague-spot, the capture and +destruction of every rebel between Albany and the Jerseys."</p> +<p>He turned with a cold smile to Colonel Butler. "I think my +estates will not remain long in rebel hands," he said.</p> +<p>"Do you not understand, Mr. Ormond?" cried Captain Campbell, +twitching me by the sleeve, an impertinence I passed, considering +him overflushed with wine. "Do you not comprehend how hopeless is +this rebellion now?"</p> +<p>"How hopeless?" drawled Sir George, looking over my shoulder, +and, as though by accident, drawing Campbell's presumptuous hand +through his own arm.</p> +<p>"How hopeless?" echoed Campbell. "Why, here are three armies of +his Majesty's troops concentrating on the heart of Tryon County. +What can the rebels do?"</p> +<p>"The patroons are with us, or have withdrawn from the contest," +said Sir John; "the great folk, military men, and we of the landed +gentry are for the King. What remains to defy his authority?"</p> +<p>"Of what kidney are these Tryon County men?" I asked, quietly. +Sir John Johnson misunderstood me.</p> +<p>"Mr. Ormond," said Sir John, "Tryon County is habited by four +races. First, the Scotch-Irish, many of them rebels, I admit, but +many also loyal. Balance these against my Highlanders, and cross +quits. Second, the Palatines--those men whose ancestors came hither +to escape the armies of Louis XIV. when they devastated the +Palatinate. And again I admit these to be rebels. Third, those of +Dutch blood, descended from brave ancestors, like our worthy +patroon here. And once more I will admit that many of these also +are tainted with rebel heresies. Fourth, the English, +three-quarters of whom are Tories. And now I ask you, can these +separate handfuls of mixed descent unite? And, if that were +possible, can they stand for one day, one hour, against the trained +troops of England?"</p> +<p>"God knows," I said.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="VI"></a>VI</h2> +<h3>DAWN</h3> +<br> +<p>I had stepped from the dining-hall out to the gun-room. Clocks +in the house were striking midnight. In the dining-room the company +had now taken to drinking in earnest, cheering and singing loyal +songs, and through the open door whirled gusts of women's laughter, +and I heard the thud of guitar-strings echo the song's gay +words.</p> +<p>All was cool and dark in the body of the house as I walked to +the front door and opened it to bathe my face in the freshening +night. I heard the whippoorwill in the thicket, and the drumming of +the dew on the porch roof, and far away a sound like ocean +stirring--the winds in the pines.</p> +<p>The Maker of all things has set in me a love for whatsoever He +has fashioned in His handiwork, whether it be furry beast or pretty +bird, or a spray of April willow, or the tiny insect-creature that +pursues its dumb, blind way through this our common world. So come +I by my love for the voices of the night, and the eyes of the +stars, and the whisper of growing things, and the spice in the air +where, unseen, a million tiny blossoms hold up white cups for dew, +or for the misty-winged things that woo them for their honey.</p> +<p>Now, in the face of this dark, soothing truce that we call +night, which is a buckler interposed between the arrows of two +angry suns, I stood thinking of war and the wrong of it. And all +around me in the darkness insects sang, and delicate, gauzy +creatures chirked and throbbed and strummed in cadence, while the +star's light faintly silvered the still trees, and distant +monotones of the forest made a sustained and steady rushing sound +like the settling ebb of shallow seas. That to my conscience I +stood committed, I could not doubt. I must draw sword, and draw it +soon, too--not for Tory or rebel, not for King or Congress, not for +my estates nor for my kin, but for the ancient liberties of +Englishmen, which England menaced to destroy.</p> +<p>That meant time lost in a return to my own home; and yet--why? +Here in this county of Tryon one might stand for liberty of thought +and action as stanchly as at home. Here was a people with no tie or +sympathy to weld them save that common love of liberty--a scattered +handful of races, without leaders, without resources, menaced by +three armies, menaced, by the five nations of the great +confederacy--the Iroquois.</p> +<p>To return to the sea islands on the Halifax and fight for my own +acres was useless if through New York the British armies entered to +the heart of the rebellion, splitting the thirteen colonies with a +flaming wedge.</p> +<p>At home I had no kin to defend; my elder brother had sailed to +England, my superintendent, my overseers, my clerks were all Tory; +my slaves would join the Minorcans or the blacks in Georgia, and I, +single-handed, could not lift a finger to restrain them.</p> +<p>But here, in the dire need of Tryon County, I might be of use. +Here was the very forefront of battle where, beyond the horizon, +invasion, uncoiling hydra folds, already raised three horrid, +threatening crests.</p> +<p>Ugh!--the butcher's work that promised if the Iroquois were +uncaged! It made me shudder, for I knew something of that kind of +war, having seen a slight service against the Seminoles in my +seventeenth year, and against the Chehaws and Tallassies a few +months later. Also in November of 1775 I accompanied Governor Tonyn +to Picolata, but when I learned that our mission was the shameful +one of securing the Indians as British allies I resigned my +captaincy in the Royal Rangers and returned to the Halifax to wait +and watch events.</p> +<p>And now, thoughtful, sad, wondering a little how it all would +end, I paced to and fro across the porch. The steady patter of the +dew was like the long roll beating--low, incessant, imperious--and +my heart leaped responsive to the summons, till I found myself +standing rigid, staring into the darkness with fevered eyes.</p> +<p>The smothered, double drumming of a guitar from the distant +revel assailed my ears, and a fresh, sweet voice, singing:</p> +<blockquote>"As at my door I chanced to be<br> + A-spinning,<br> + + Spinning,<br> + +A grenadier he winked at me<br> + A-grinning,<br> + + Grinning!<br> + +As at my door I chanced to be<br> +A grenadier he winked at me.<br> +And now my song's begun, you see!<br> +<br> +"My grenadier he said to me.<br> + So +jolly,<br> + Jolly,<br> + +'We tax the tea, but love is free,<br> + Sweet +Molly,<br> + Molly!'<br> + +My grenadier he said to me,<br> +'We tax the tea, but love is free!'<br> +And so my song it ends, you see,<br> + In +folly,<br> + Folly!"</blockquote> +<p>I listened angrily; the voice was Dorothy Varick's, and I +wondered that she had the heart to sing such foolishness for men +whose grip was already on her people's throats.</p> +<p>In the dining-hall somebody blew the view-halloo on a +hunting-horn, and I heard cheers and the dulled roar of a +chorus:</p> +<blockquote>"--Rally your men!<br> +Campbell and Cameron,<br> +Fox-hunting gentlemen,<br> +Follow the Jacobite back to his den!<br> +Run with the runaway rogue to his runway,<br> + Stole-away!<br> + Stole-away!<br> + Gallop to Galway,<br> +Back to Broadalbin and double to Perth;<br> +Ride! for the rebel is running to earth!"</blockquote> +<p>And the shrill, fierce Highland cry, "Gralloch him!" echoed the +infamous catch, till the night air rang faintly in the +starlight.</p> +<p>"Cruachan!" shouted Captain Campbell; "the wild myrtle to clan +Campbell, the heather to the McDonalds! An't--Arm, chlanna!"</p> +<p>And a great shout answered him: "The army! Sons of the +army!"</p> +<p>Sullen and troubled and restless, I paced the porch, and at +length sat down on the steps to cool my hot forehead in my +hands.</p> +<p>And as I sat, there came my cousin Dorothy to the porch to look +for me, fanning her flushed face with a great, plumy fan, the warm +odor of roses still clinging to her silken skirts.</p> +<p>"Have they ended?" I asked, none too graciously.</p> +<p>"They are beginning," she said, with a laugh, then drew a deep +breath and waved her fan slowly. "Ah, the sweet May night!" she +murmured, eyes fixed on the north star. "Can you believe that men +could dream of war in this quiet paradise of silence?"</p> +<p>I made no answer, and she went on, fanning her hot cheeks: +"They're off to Oswego by dawn, the whole company, gallant and +baggage." She laughed wickedly. "I don't mean their ladies, +cousin."</p> +<p>"How could you?" I protested, grimly.</p> +<p>"Their wagons," she said, "started to-day at sundown from Tribes +Hill; Sir John, the Butlers, and the Glencoe gentlemen follow at +dawn. There are post-chaises for the ladies out yonder, and an +escort, too. But nobody would stop them; they're as safe as Catrine +Montour."</p> +<p>"Dorothy, who is this Catrine Montour?" I asked.</p> +<p>"A woman, cousin; a terrible hag who runs through the woods, and +none dare stop her."</p> +<p>"A real hag? You mean a ghost?"</p> +<p>"No, no; a real hag, with black locks hanging, and long arms +that could choke an ox."</p> +<p>"Why does she run through the woods?" I asked, amused.</p> +<p>"Why? Who knows? She is always seen running."</p> +<p>"Where does she run to?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. Once Henry Stoner, the hunter, followed her, and +they say no one but Jack Mount can outrun him; but she ran and ran, +and he after her, till the day fell down, and he fell gasping like +a foundered horse. But she ran on."</p> +<p>"Oh, tally," I said; "do you believe that?"</p> +<p>"Why, I know it is true," she replied, ceasing her fanning to +stare at me with calm, wide eyes. "Do you doubt it?"</p> +<p>"How can I?" said I, laughing. "Who is this busy hag, Catrine +Montour?"</p> +<p>"They say," said Dorothy, waving her fan thoughtfully, "that her +father was that Count Frontenac who long ago governed the Canadas, +and that her mother was a Huron woman. Many believe her to be a +witch. I don't know. Milk curdles in the pans when she is running +through the forest ... they say. Once it rained blood on our front +porch."</p> +<p>"Those red drops fall from flocks of butterflies," I said, +laughing. "I have seen red showers in Florida."</p> +<p>"I should like to be sure of that," said Dorothy, musing. Then, +raising her starry eyes, she caught me laughing.</p> +<p>"Tease me," she smiled. "I don't care. You may even make love to +me if you choose."</p> +<p>"Make love to you!" I repeated, reddening.</p> +<p>"Why not? It amuses--and you're only a cousin."</p> +<p>Astonishment was followed by annoyance as she coolly +disqualified me with a careless wave of her fan, wafting the word +"cousin" into my very teeth.</p> +<p>"Suppose I paid court to you and gained your affections?" I +said.</p> +<p>"You have them," she replied, serenely.</p> +<p>"I mean your heart?"</p> +<p>"You have it."</p> +<p>"I mean your--love, Dorothy?"</p> +<p>"Ah," she said, with a faint smile, "I wish you could--I wish +somebody could."</p> +<p>I was silent.</p> +<p>"And I never shall love; I know it, I feel it--here!" She +pressed her side with a languid sigh that nigh set me into fits o' +laughter, yet I swallowed my mirth till it choked me, and looked at +the stars.</p> +<p>"Perhaps," said I, "the gentle passion might be awakened with +patience ... and practice."</p> +<p>"Ah, no," she said.</p> +<p>"May I touch your hand?"</p> +<p>Indolently fanning, she extended her fingers. I took them in my +hands.</p> +<p>"I am about to begin," I said.</p> +<p>"Begin," she said.</p> +<p>So, her hand resting in mine, I told her that she had robbed the +skies and set two stars in violets for her eyes; that nature's one +miracle was wrought when in her cheeks roses bloomed beneath the +snow; that the frosted gold she called her hair had been spun from +December sunbeams, and that her voice was but the melodies stolen +from breeze and brook and golden-throated birds.</p> +<p>"For all those pretty words," she said, "love still lies +sleeping."</p> +<p>"Perhaps my arm around your waist--"</p> +<p>"Perhaps."</p> +<p>"So?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>And, after a silence:</p> +<p>"Has love stirred?"</p> +<p>"Love sleeps the sounder."</p> +<p>"And if I touched your lips?"</p> +<p>"Best not."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"I'm sure that love would yawn."</p> +<p>Chilled, for unconsciously I had begun to find in this +child-play an interest unexpected, I dropped her unresisting +fingers.</p> +<p>"Upon my word," I said, almost irritably, "I can believe you +when you say you never mean to wed."</p> +<p>"But I don't say it," she protested.</p> +<p>"What? You have a mind to wed?"</p> +<p>"Nor did I say that, either," she said, laughing.</p> +<p>"Then what the deuce do you say?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, unless I'm entreated politely."</p> +<p>"I entreat you, cousin, most politely," I said.</p> +<p>"Then I may tell you that, though I trouble my head nothing as +to wedlock, I am betrothed."</p> +<p>"Betrothed!" I repeated, angrily disappointed, yet I could not +think why.</p> +<p>"Yes--pledged."</p> +<p>"To whom?"</p> +<p>"To a man, silly."</p> +<p>"A man!"</p> +<p>"With two legs, two arms, and a head, cousin."</p> +<p>"You ... love him?"</p> +<p>"No," she said, serenely. "It's only to wed and settle down some +day."</p> +<p>"You don't love him?"</p> +<p>"No," she repeated, a trifle impatiently.</p> +<p>"And you mean to wed him?"</p> +<p>"Listen to the boy!" she exclaimed. "I've told him ten times +that I am betrothed, which means a wedding. I am not one of those +who break paroles."</p> +<p>"Oh ... you are now free on parole."</p> +<p>"Prisoner on parole," she said, lightly. "I'm to name the day o' +punishment, and I promise you it will not be soon."</p> +<p>"Dorothy," I said, "suppose in the mean time you fell in +love?"</p> +<p>"I'd like to," she said, sincerely.</p> +<p>"But--but what would you do then?"</p> +<p>"Love, silly!"</p> +<p>"And ... marry?"</p> +<p>"Marry him whom I have promised."</p> +<p>"But you would be wretched!"</p> +<p>"Why? I can't fancy wedding one I love. I should be ashamed, I +think. I--if I loved I should not want the man I loved to touch +me--not with gloves."</p> +<p>"You little fool!" I said. "You don't know what you say."</p> +<p>"Yes, I do!" she cried, hotly. "Once there was a captain from +Boston; I adored him. And once he kissed my hand and I hated +him!"</p> +<p>"I wish I'd been there," I muttered.</p> +<p>She, waving her fan to and fro, continued: "I often think of +splendid men, and, dreaming in the sunshine, sometimes I adore +them. But always these day-dream heroes keep their distance; and we +talk and talk, and plan to do great good in the world, until I fall +a-napping.... Heigho! I'm yawning now." She covered her face with +her fan and leaned back against a pillar, crossing her feet. "Tell +me about London," she said. But I knew no more than she.</p> +<p>"I'd be a belle there," she observed. "I'd have a train o' beaux +and macaronis at my heels, I warrant you! The foppier, the more it +would please me. Think, cousin--ranks of them all a-simper, ogling +me through a hundred quizzing-glasses! Heigho! There's doubtless +some deviltry in me, as Sir Lupus says."</p> +<p>She yawned again, looked up at the stars, then fell to twisting +her fan with idle fingers.</p> +<p>"I suppose," she said, more to herself than to me, "that Sir +John is now close to the table's edge, and Colonel Claus is under +it.... Hark to their song, all off the key! But who cares?... so +that they quarrel not.... Like those twin brawlers of Glencoe, ... +brooding on feuds nigh a hundred years old.... I have no patience +with a brooder, one who treasures wrongs, ... like Walter Butler." +She looked up at me.</p> +<p>"I warned you," she said.</p> +<p>"It is not easy to avoid insulting him," I replied.</p> +<p>"I warned you of that, too. Now you've a quarrel, and a +reckoning in prospect."</p> +<p>"The reckoning is far off," I retorted, ill-humoredly.</p> +<p>"Far off--yes. Further away than you know. You will never cross +swords with Walter Butler."</p> +<p>"And why not?"</p> +<p>"He means to use the Iroquois."</p> +<p>I was silent.</p> +<p>"For the honor of your women, you cannot fight such a man," she +added, quietly.</p> +<p>"I wish I had the right to protect your honor," I said, so +suddenly and so bitterly that I surprised myself.</p> +<p>"Have you not?" she asked, gravely. "I am your kinswoman."</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, I know," I muttered, and fell to plucking at the lace +on my wristbands.</p> +<p>The dawn's chill was in the air, the dawn's silence, too, and I +saw the calm morning star on the horizon, watching the dark +world--the dark, sad world, lying so still, so patient, under the +ancient sky.</p> +<p>That melancholy--which is an omen, too--left me benumbed, adrift +in a sort of pained contentment which alternately soothed and +troubled, so that at moments I almost drowsed, and at moments I +heard my heart stirring, as though in dull expectancy of beatitudes +undreamed of.</p> +<p>Dorothy, too, sat listless, pensive, and in her eyes a sombre +shadow, such as falls on children's eyes at moments, leaving their +elders silent.</p> +<p>Once in the false dawn a cock crowed, and the shrill, far cry +left the raw air emptier and the silence more profound. I looked +wistfully at the maid beside me, chary of intrusion into the +intimacy of her silence. Presently her vague eyes met mine, and, as +though I had spoken, she said: "What is it?"</p> +<p>"Only this: I am sorry you are pledged."</p> +<p>"Why, cousin?"</p> +<p>"It is unfair."</p> +<p>"To whom?"</p> +<p>"To you. Bid him undo it and release you."</p> +<p>"What matters it?" she said, dully.</p> +<p>"To wed, one should love," I muttered.</p> +<p>"I cannot," she answered, without moving. "I would I could. This +night has witched me to wish for love--to desire it; and I sit here +a-thinking, a-thinking.... If love ever came to me I should think +it would come now--ere the dawn; here, where all is so dark and +quiet and close to God.... Cousin, this night, for the first moment +in all my life, I have desired love."</p> +<p>"To be loved?"</p> +<p>"No, ... to love."</p> +<p>I do not know how long our silence lasted; the faintest hint of +silver touched the sky above the eastern forest; a bird awoke, +sleepily twittering; another piped out fresh and clear, another, +another; and, as the pallid tint spread in the east, all the +woodlands burst out ringing into song.</p> +<p>In the house a door opened and a hoarse voice muttered thickly. +Dorothy paid no heed, but I rose and stepped into the hallway, +where servants were guiding the patroon to bed, and a man hung to +the bronze-cannon post, swaying and mumbling threats--Colonel +Claus, wig awry, stock unbuckled, and one shoe gone. Faugh! the +stale, sour air sickened me.</p> +<p>Then a company of gentlemen issued from the dining-hall, and, as +I stepped back to the porch to give them room, their gray faces +were turned to me with meaningless smiles or blank inquiry.</p> +<p>"Where's my orderly?" hiccoughed Sir John Johnson. "Here, you, +call my rascals; get the chaises up! Dammy, I want my post-chaise, +d' ye hear?"</p> +<p>Captain Campbell stumbled out to the lawn and fumbled about his +lips with a whistle, which he finally succeeded in blowing. This +accomplished, he gravely examined the sky.</p> +<p>"There they are," said Dorothy, quietly; and I saw, in the dim +morning light, a dozen horsemen stirring in the shadows of the +stockade. And presently the horses were brought up, followed by two +post-chaises, with sleepy post-boys sitting their saddles and men +afoot trailing rifles.</p> +<p>Colonel Butler came out of the door with Magdalen Brant, who was +half asleep, and aided her to a chaise. Guy Johnson followed with +Betty Austin, his arm around her, and climbed in after her. Then +Sir John brought Claire Putnam to the other chaise, entering it +himself behind her. And the post-boys wheeled their horses out +through the stockade, followed at a gallop by the shadowy +horsemen.</p> +<p>And now the Butlers, father and son, set toe to stirrup; and I +saw Walter Butler kick the servant who held his stirrup--why, I do +not know, unless the poor, tired fellow's hands shook.</p> +<p>Up into their saddles popped the Glencoe captains; then Campbell +swore an oath and dismounted to look for Colonel Claus; and +presently two blacks carried him out and set him in his saddle, +which he clung to, swaying like a ship in distress, his +riding-boots slung around his neck, stockinged toes clutching the +stirrups.</p> +<p>Away they went, followed at a trot by the armed men on foot; +fainter and fainter sounded the clink, clink of their horses' +hoofs, then died away.</p> +<p>In the silence, the east reddened to a flame tint. I turned to +the open doorway; Dorothy was gone, but old Cato stood there, +withered hands clasped, peaceful eyes on me.</p> +<p>"Mawnin', suh," he said, sweetly. "Yaas, suh, de night done gone +and de sun mos' up. H'it dat-a-way, Mars' George, suh, h'it jess +natch'ly dat-a-way in dishyere world--day, night, mo' day. What de +Bible say? Life, def, mo' life, suh. When we's daid we'll sho' find +it dat-a-way."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="VII"></a>VII</h2> +<h3>AFTERMATH</h3> +<br> +<p>Cato at my bedside with basin, towel, and razor, a tub of water +on the floor, and the sun shining on my chamber wall. These, and a +stale taste on my tongue, greeted me as I awoke.</p> +<p>First to wash teeth and mouth with orris, then to bathe, half +asleep still; and yet again to lie a-thinking in my arm-chair, +robed in a banyan, cheeks all suds and nose sniffing the scented +water in the chin-basin which I held none too steady; and I said, +peevishly, "What a fool a man is to play the fool! Do you hear me, +Cato?"</p> +<p>He said that he marked my words, and I bade him hold his tongue +and tell me the hour.</p> +<p>"Nine, suh."</p> +<p>"Then I'll sleep again," I muttered, but could not, and after +the morning draught felt better. Chocolate and bread, new butter +and new eggs, put me in a kinder humor. Cato, burrowing in my +boxes, drew out a soft, new suit of doeskin with new points, new +girdle, and new moccasins.</p> +<p>"Oh," said I, watching him, "am I to go forest-running +to-day?"</p> +<p>"Mars' Varick gwine ride de boun's," he announced, +cheerfully.</p> +<p>"Ride to hounds?" I repeated, astonished. "In May?"</p> +<p>"No, suh! Ride de boun's, suh."</p> +<p>"Oh, ride the boundaries?"</p> +<p>"Yaas, suh."</p> +<p>"Oh, very well. What time does he start?"</p> +<p>"'Bout noontide, suh."</p> +<p>The old man strove to straighten my short queue, but found it +hopeless, so tied it close and dusted on the French powder.</p> +<p>"Curly head, curly head," he muttered to himself. "Dess lak yo' +pap's!... an' Miss Dorry's. Law's sakes, dishyere hair wuf mo'n +eight dollar."</p> +<p>"You think my hair worth more than eight dollars?" I asked, +amused.</p> +<p>"H'it sho'ly am, suh."</p> +<p>"But why eight dollars, Cato?"</p> +<p>"Das what the redcoats say; eight dollars fo' one rebel scalp, +suh."</p> +<p>I sat up, horrified. "Who told you that?" I demanded.</p> +<p>"All de gemmen done say so--Mars' Varick, Mars' Johnsing, Cap'in +Butler."</p> +<p>"Bah! they said it to plague you, Cato," I muttered; but as I +said it I saw the old slave's eyes and knew that he had told the +truth.</p> +<p>Sobered, I dressed me in my forest dress, absently lacing the +hunting-shirt and tying knee-points, while the old man polished +hatchet and knife and slipped them into the beaded scabbards +swinging on either hip.</p> +<p>Then I went out, noiselessly descending the stairway, and came +all unawares upon the young folk and the children gathered on the +sunny porch, busy with their morning tasks.</p> +<p>They neither saw nor heard me; I leaned against the doorway to +see the pretty picture at my ease. The children, Sam and Benny, sat +all hunched up, scowling over their books.</p> +<p>Close to a fluted pillar, Dorothy Varick reclined in a chair, +embroidering her initials on a pair of white silk hose, using the +Rosemary stitch. And as her delicate fingers flew, her gold thimble +flashed like a fire-fly in the sun.</p> +<p>At her feet, cross-legged, sat Cecile Butler, velvet eyes intent +on a silken petticoat which she was embroidering with pale sprays +of flowers.</p> +<p>Ruyven and Harry, near by, dipped their brushes into pans of +brilliant French colors, the one to paint marvellous birds on a +silken fan, the other to decorate a pair of white satin shoes with +little pink blossoms nodding on a vine.</p> +<p>Loath to disturb them, I stood smiling, silent; and presently +Dorothy, without raising her eyes, called on Samuel to read his +morning lesson, and he began, breathing heavily:</p> +<blockquote>"I know that God is wroth at me<br> + For I was born in sin;<br> +My heart is so exceeding vile<br> + Damnation dwells therein;<br> +Awake I sin, asleep I sin,<br> + I sin with every breath,<br> +When Adam fell he went to hell<br> + And damned us all to death!"</blockquote> +<p>He stopped short, scowling, partly from fright, I think.</p> +<p>"That teaches us to obey God," said Ruyven, severely, dipping +his brush into the pink paint-cake.</p> +<p>"What's the good of obeying God if we're all to go to hell?" +asked Cecile.</p> +<p>"We're not <i>all</i> going to hell," said Dorothy, calmly. "God +saves His elect."</p> +<p>"Who are the elect?" demanded Samuel, faintly hopeful.</p> +<p>"Nobody knows," replied Cecile, grimly; "but I guess--"</p> +<p>"Benny," broke in Dorothy, "read your lesson! Cecile, stop your +chatter!" And Benny, cheerful and sceptical, read his lines:</p> +<blockquote>"When by thpectators I behold<br> + What beauty doth adorn me,<br> +Or in a glath when I behold<br> + How thweetly God did form me.<br> +Hath God thuch comeliness bethowed<br> + And on me made to dwell?--<br> +What pity thuch a pretty maid<br> + Ath I thoud go to hell!"</blockquote> +<p>And Benny giggled.</p> +<p>"Benjamin," said Cecile, in an awful voice, "are you not +terrified at what you read?"</p> +<p>"Huh!" said Benny, "I'm not a 'pretty maid'; I'm a boy."</p> +<p>"It's all the same, little dunce!" insisted Cecile.</p> +<p>"Doeth God thay little boyth are born to be damned?" he asked, +uneasily.</p> +<p>"No, no," interrupted Dorothy; "God saves His elect, I tell you. +Don't you remember what He says?</p> +<blockquote>"'You sinners are, and such a share<br> + As sinners may expect;<br> +Such you shall have; for I do save<br> + None but my own elect.'</blockquote> +<p>"And you see," she added, confidently, "I think we all are +elect, and there's nothing to be afraid of. Benny, stop +sniffing!"</p> +<p>"Are you sure?" asked Cecile, gloomily.</p> +<p>Dorothy, stitching serenely, answered: "I am sure God is +fair."</p> +<p>"Oh, everybody knows that," observed Cecile. "What we want to +know is, what does He mean to do with us."</p> +<p>"If we're good," added Samuel, fervently.</p> +<p>"He will damn us, perhaps," said Ruyven, sucking his paint-brush +and looking critically at his work.</p> +<p>"Damn us? Why?" inquired Dorothy, raising her eyes.</p> +<p>"Oh, for all that sin we were born in," said Ruyven, +absently.</p> +<p>"But that's not fair," said Dorothy.</p> +<p>"Are you smarter than a clergyman?" sneered Ruyven.</p> +<p>Dorothy spread the white silk stocking over one knee. "I don't +know," she sighed, "sometimes I think I am."</p> +<p>"Pride," commented Cecile, complacently. "Pride is sin, so there +you are, Dorothy."</p> +<p>"There you are, Dorothy!" said I, laughing from the doorway; +and, "Oh, Cousin Ormond!" they all chorused, scrambling up to greet +me.</p> +<p>"Have a care!" cried Dorothy. "That is my wedding petticoat! Oh, +he's slopped water on it! Benny, you dreadful villain!"</p> +<p>"No, he hasn't," said I, coming out to greet her and Cecile, +with Samuel and Benny hanging to my belt, and Harry fast hold of +one arm. "And what's all this about wedding finery? Is there a +bride in this vicinity?"</p> +<p>Dorothy held out a stocking. "A bride's white silken hose," she +said, complacently.</p> +<p>"Embroidered on the knee with the bride's initials," added +Cecile, proudly.</p> +<p>"<i>Yours</i>, Dorothy?" I demanded.</p> +<p>"Yes, but I shall not wear them for ages and ages. I told you so +last night."</p> +<p>"But I thought Dorothy had best make ready," remarked Cecile. +"Dorothy is to carry that fan and wear those slippers and this +petticoat and the white silk stockings when she weds Sir +George."</p> +<p>"Sir George who?" I asked, bluntly.</p> +<p>"Why, Sir George Covert. Didn't you know?"</p> +<p>I looked at Dorothy, incensed without a reason.</p> +<p>"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, ungraciously.</p> +<p>"Why didn't you ask me?" she replied, a trifle hurt.</p> +<p>I was silent.</p> +<p>Cecile said: "I hope that Dorothy will marry him soon. I want to +see how she looks in this petticoat."</p> +<p>"Ho!" sneered Harry, "you just want to wear one like it and be a +bridesmaid and primp and give yourself airs. I know +<i>you!</i>"</p> +<p>"Sir George Covert is a good fellow," remarked Ruyven, with a +patronizing nod at Dorothy; "but I always said he was too old for +you. You should see how gray are his temples when he wears no +powder."</p> +<p>"He has fine eyes," murmured Cecile.</p> +<p>"He's too old; he's forty," repeated Ruyven.</p> +<p>"His legs are shapely," added Cecile, sentimentally.</p> +<p>Dorothy gave a despairing upward glance at me. "Are these +children not silly?" she said, with a little shrug.</p> +<p>"We may be children, and we may be silly," said Ruyven, "but if +we were you we'd wed our cousin Ormond."</p> +<p>"All of you together?" inquired Dorothy.</p> +<p>"You know what I mean," he snapped.</p> +<p>"Why don't you?" demanded Harry, vaguely, twitching Dorothy by +the apron.</p> +<p>"Do what?"</p> +<p>"Wed our cousin Ormond."</p> +<p>"But he has not asked me," she said, smiling.</p> +<p>Harry turned to me and took my arm affectionately in his.</p> +<p>"You will ask her, won't you?" he murmured. "She's very nice +when she chooses."</p> +<p>"She wouldn't have me," I said, laughing.</p> +<p>"Oh yes, she would; and then you need never leave us, which +would be pleasant for all, I think. Won't you ask her, cousin?"</p> +<p>"You ask her," I said.</p> +<p>"Dorothy," he broke out, eagerly. "You will wed him, won't you? +Our cousin Ormond says he will if you will. And I'll tell Sir +George that it's just a family matter, and, besides, he's too +old--"</p> +<p>"Yes, tell Sir George that," sneered Ruyven, who had listened in +an embarrassment that certainly Dorothy had not betrayed. "You're a +great fool, Harry. Don't you know that when people want to wed they +ask each other's permission to ask each other's father, and then +their fathers ask each other, and then they ask each--"</p> +<p>"Other!" cried Dorothy, laughing deliciously. "Oh, Ruyven, +Ruyven, you certainly will be the death of me!"</p> +<p>"All the same," said Harry, sullenly, "our cousin wishes to wed +you."</p> +<p>"Do you?" asked Dorothy, raising her amused eyes to me.</p> +<p>"I fear I come too late," I said, forcing a smile I was not +inclined to.</p> +<p>"Ah, yes; too late," she sighed, pretending a doleful mien.</p> +<p>"Why?" demanded Harry, blankly.</p> +<p>Dorothy shook her head. "Sir George would never permit me such a +liberty. If he would, our cousin Ormond and I could wed at once; +you see I have my bride's stockings here; Cecile could do my hair, +Sammy carry my prayer-book, Benny my train, Ruyven read the +service--"</p> +<p>Harry, flushing at the shout of laughter, gave Dorothy a dark +look, turned and eyed me, then scowled again at Dorothy.</p> +<p>"All the same," he said, slowly, "you're a great goose not to +wed him.... And you'll be sorry ... when he's dead!"</p> +<p>At this veiled prophecy of my approaching dissolution, all were +silent save Dorothy and Ruyven, whose fresh laughter rang out peal +on peal.</p> +<p>"Laugh," said Harry, gloomily; "but you won't laugh when he's +killed in the war, ... and scalped, too."</p> +<p>Ruyven, suddenly sober, looked up at me. Dorothy bent over her +needle-work and examined it attentively.</p> +<p>"Are you going to the war?" asked Cecile, plaintively.</p> +<p>"Of course he's going; so am I," replied Ruyven, striking a +careless pose against a pillar.</p> +<p>"On which side, Ruyven?" inquired Dorothy, sorting her +silks.</p> +<p>"On my cousin's side, of course," he said, uneasily.</p> +<p>"Which side is that?" asked Cecile.</p> +<p>Confused, flushing painfully, the boy looked at me; and I +rescued him, saying, "We'll talk that over when we ride bounds this +afternoon. Ruyven and I understand each other, don't we, +Ruyven?"</p> +<p>He gave me a grateful glance. "Yes," he said, shyly.</p> +<p>Sir George Covert, a trifle pallid, but bland and urbane, +strolled out to the porch, saluting us gracefully. He paused beside +Dorothy, who slipped her needle through her work and held out her +hand for him to salute.</p> +<p>"Are you also going to the wars?" she asked, with a friendly +smile.</p> +<p>"Where are they?" he inquired, pretending a fierce eagerness. +"Point out some wars and I'll go to 'em post haste!"</p> +<p>"They're all around us," said Sammy, solemnly.</p> +<p>"Then we'd best get to horse and lose no time, Mr. Ormond," he +observed, passing his arm through mine. In a lower voice he added: +"Headache?"</p> +<p>"Oh no," I said, hastily.</p> +<p>"Lucky dog. Sir Lupus lies as though struck by lightning. I'm +all a-quiver, too. A man of my years is a fool to do such things. +But I do, Ormond, I do; ass that I am. Do you ride bounds with Sir +Lupus?"</p> +<p>"If he desires it," I said.</p> +<p>"Then I'll see you when you pass my villa on the Vlaie, where +you'll find a glass of wine waiting. Do you ride, Miss +Dorothy?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> +<p>A stable lad brought his horse to the porch. He took leave of +Dorothy with a grace that charmed even me; yet, in his bearing +towards her I could detect the tender pride he had in her, and that +left me cold and thoughtful.</p> +<p>All liked him, though none appeared to regard him exactly as a +kinsman, nor accorded him that vague shade of intimacy which is +felt in kinship, not in comradeship alone, and which they already +accorded me.</p> +<p>Dorothy walked with him to the stockade gate, the stable lad +following with his horse; and I saw them stand there in low-voiced +conversation, he lounging and switching at the weeds with his +riding-crop; she, head bent, turning the gold thimble over and over +between her fingers. And I wondered what they were saying.</p> +<p>Presently he mounted and rode away, a graceful, manly figure in +the saddle, and not turning like a fop to blow a kiss at his +betrothed, nor spurring his horse to show his skill--for which I +coldly respected him.</p> +<p>Harry, Cecile, and the children gathered their paints and books +and went into the house, demanding that I should follow.</p> +<p>"Dorothy is beckoning us," observed Ruyven, gathering up his +paints.</p> +<p>I looked towards her and she raised her hand, motioning us to +come.</p> +<p>"About father's watch," she said. "I have just consulted Sir +George, and he says that neither I nor Ruyven have won, seeing that +Ruyven used the coin he did--"</p> +<p>"Very well," cried Ruyven, triumphantly. "Then let us match +dates again. Have you a shilling, Cousin Ormond?"</p> +<p>"I'll throw hunting-knives for it," suggested Dorothy.</p> +<p>"Oh no, you won't," retorted her brother, warily.</p> +<p>"Then I'll race you to the porch."</p> +<p>He shook his head.</p> +<p>She laughed tauntingly.</p> +<p>"I'm not afraid," said Ruyven, reddening and glancing at me.</p> +<p>"Then I'll wrestle you."</p> +<p>Stung by the malice in her smile, Ruyven seized her.</p> +<p>"No, no! Not in these clothes!" she said, twisting to free +herself. "Wait till I put on my buckskins. Don't use me so roughly, +you tear my laced apron. Oh! you great booby!" And with a quick cry +of resentment she bent, caught her brother, and swung him off his +feet clean over her left shoulder slap on the grass.</p> +<p>"Silly!" she said, cheeks aflame. "I have no patience to be +mauled." Then she laughed uncertainly to see him lying there, too +astonished to get up.</p> +<p>"Are you hurt?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Who taught you that hold?" he demanded, indignantly, scrambling +to his feet. "I thought I alone knew that."</p> +<p>"Why, Captain Campbell taught you last week and ... I was at the +window ... sewing," she said, demurely.</p> +<p>Ruyven looked at me, disgusted, muttering, "If I could learn +things the way she does, I'd not waste time at King's College, I +can tell you."</p> +<p>"You're not going to King's College, anyhow," said his sister. +"York is full o' loyal rebels and Tory patriots, and father says +he'll be damned if you can learn logic where all lack it."</p> +<p>She held out her hand, smiling. "No malice, Ruyven, and we'll +forgive each other."</p> +<p>Her brother met the clasp; then, hands in his pockets, followed +us back through the stockade towards the porch. I was pleased to +see that his pride had suffered no more than his body from the fall +he got, which augured well for a fair-minded manhood.</p> +<p>As we approached the house I heard hollow noises within, like +groans; and I stopped, listening intently.</p> +<p>"It is Sir Lupus snoring," observed Ruyven. "He will wake soon; +I think I had best call Tulip," he added, exchanging a glance with +his sister; and entered the house calling, "Cato! Cato! Tulip! +Tulip! I say!"</p> +<p>"Who is Tulip?" I asked of Dorothy, who lingered at the +threshold folding her embroidery into a bundle.</p> +<p>"Tulip? Oh, Tulip cooks for us--black as a June crow, cousin. +She is voodoo."</p> +<p>"Evil-eye and all?" I asked, smiling.</p> +<p>Dorothy looked up shyly. "Don't you believe in the +evil-eye?"</p> +<p>I was not perfectly sure whether I did or not, but I said +"No."</p> +<p>"To believe is not necessarily to be afraid," she added, +quickly.</p> +<p>Now, had I believed in the voodoo craft, or in the power of an +evil-eye, I should also have feared. Those who have ever witnessed +a sea-island witch-dance can bear me out, and I think a man may +dread a hag and be no coward either. But distance and time allay +the memories of such uncanny works. I had forgotten whether I was +afraid or not. So I said, "There are no witches, Dorothy."</p> +<p>She looked at me, dreamily. "There are none ... that I +fear."</p> +<p>"Not even Catrine Montour?" I asked, to plague her.</p> +<p>"No; it turns me cold to think of her running in the forest, but +I am not afraid."</p> +<p>She stood pensive in the doorway, rolling and unrolling her +embroidery. Harry and Cecile came out, flourishing alder poles from +which lines and hooks dangled. Samuel and Benny carried birchen +baskets and shallow nets.</p> +<p>"If we're to have Mohawk chubbs," said Cecile, "you had best +come with us, Dorothy. Ruyven has a book and has locked himself in +the play-room."</p> +<p>But Dorothy shook her head, saying that she meant to ride the +boundary with us; and the children, after vainly soliciting my +company, trooped off towards that same grist-mill in the ravine +below the bridge which I had observed on my first arrival at Varick +Manor.</p> +<p>"I am wondering," said Dorothy, "how you mean to pass the +morning. You had best steer wide of Sir Lupus until he has +breakfasted."</p> +<p>"I've a mind to sleep," I said, guiltily.</p> +<p>"I think it would be pleasant to ride together. Will you?" she +asked; then, laughing, she said, frankly, "Since you have come I do +nothing but follow you.... It is long since I have had a young +companion, ... and, when I think that you are to leave us, it spurs +me to lose no moment that I shall regret when you are gone."</p> +<p>No shyness marred the pretty declaration of her friendship, and +it touched me the more keenly perhaps. The confidence in her eyes, +lifted so sweetly, waked the best in me; and if my response was +stumbling, it was eager and warm, and seemed to please her.</p> +<p>"Tulip! Tulip!" she cried, "I want my dinner! <i>Now!</i>" And +to me, "We will eat what they give us; I shall dress in my +buckskins and we will ride the boundary and register the signs, and +Sir Lupus and the others can meet us at Sir George Covert's +pleasure-house on the Vlaie. Does it please you, Cousin +George?"</p> +<p>I looked into her bright eyes and said that it pleased me more +than I dared say, and she laughed and ran up-stairs, calling back +to me that I should order our horses and tell Cato to tell Tulip to +fetch meat and claret to the gun-room.</p> +<p>I whistled a small, black stable lad and bade him bring our +mounts to the porch, then wandered at random down the hallway, +following my nose, which scented the kitchen, until I came to a +closed door.</p> +<p>Behind that door meats were cooking--I could take my oath o' +that--so I opened the door and poked my nose in.</p> +<p>"Tulip," I said, "come here!"</p> +<p>An ample black woman, aproned and turbaned, looked at me through +the steam of many kettles, turned and cuffed the lad at the spit, +dealt a few buffets among the scullions, and waddled up to me, +bobbing and curtsying.</p> +<p>"Aunt Tulip," I said, gravely, "are you voodoo?"</p> +<p>"Folks says ah is, Mars' Ormon'," she said, in her soft Georgia +accent.</p> +<p>"Oh, they do, do they? Look at me, Aunt Tulip. What do my eyes +tell you of me?"</p> +<p>Her dark eyes, fixed on mine, seemed to change, and I thought +little glimmers of pure gold tinted the iris, like those marvellous +restless tints in a gorgeous bubble. Certainly her eyes were +strange, almost compelling, for I felt a faint rigidity in my +cheeks and my eyes returned directly to hers as at an unspoken +command.</p> +<p>"Can you read me, aunty?" I asked, trying to speak easily, yet +feeling the stiffness growing in my cheeks.</p> +<p>"Ah sho' can," she said, stepping nearer.</p> +<p>"What is my fate, then?"</p> +<p>"Ah 'spec' yo' gwine fine yo'se'f in love," she said, softly; +and I strove to smile with ever-stiffening lips.</p> +<p>A little numbness that tingled spread over me; it was pleasant; +I did not care to withdraw my eyes. Presently the tightness in my +face relaxed, I moved my lips, smiling vaguely.</p> +<p>"In love," I repeated.</p> +<p>"Yaas, Mars' Ormon'."</p> +<p>"When?"</p> +<p>"'Fore yo' know h'it, honey."</p> +<p>"Tell me more."</p> +<p>"'Spec' ah done tole yo' too much, honey." She looked at me +steadily. "Pore Mars' Gawge," she murmured, "'spec' ah done tole +yo' too much. But it sho' am a-comin', honey, an' h'it gwine come +pow'ful sudden, an' h'it gwine mek yo' pow'ful sick."</p> +<p>"Am I to win her?"</p> +<p>"No, honey."</p> +<p>"Is there no hope, Aunt Tulip?"</p> +<p>She hesitated as though at fault; I felt the tenseness in my +face once more; then, for one instant, I lost track of time; for +presently I found myself standing in the hallway watching Sir Lupus +through the open door of the gun-room, and Sir Lupus was very +angry.</p> +<p>"Dammy!" he roared, "am I to eat my plate? Cato! I want my +porridge!"</p> +<p>Confused, I stood blinking at him, and he at table, bibbed like +a babe, mad as a hornet, hammering on the cloth with a great silver +spoon and bellowing that they meant to starve him.</p> +<p>"I don't remember how I came here," I began, then flushed +furiously at my foolishness.</p> +<p>"Remember!" he shouted. "I don't remember anything! I don't want +to remember anything! I want my porridge! I want it now! +Damnation!"</p> +<p>Cato, hastening past me with the steaming dish, was received +with a yelp. But at last Sir Lupus got his spoon into the mess and +a portion of the mess into his mouth, and fell to gobbling and +growling, paying me no further attention. So I closed the door of +the gun-room on the great patroon and walked to the foot of the +stairway.</p> +<p>A figure in soft buckskins was descending--a blue-eyed, graceful +youth who hailed me with a gesture.</p> +<p>"Dorothy!" I said, fascinated.</p> +<p>Her fringed hunting-shirt fell to her knees, the short +shoulder-cape from throat to breast; gay fringe fluttered from +shoulder to wrist, and from thigh to ankle; and her little +scarlet-quilled moccasins went pat-patter-pat as she danced down +the stairway and stood before me, sweeping her cap from her golden +head in exaggerated salute.</p> +<p>She seemed smaller in her boy's dress, fuller, too, and rounder +of neck and limb; and the witchery of her beauty left me silent--a +tribute she found delightful, for she blushed very prettily and +bowed again in dumb acknowledgment of the homage all too evident in +my eyes.</p> +<p>Cato came with a dish of meat and a bottle of claret; and we sat +down on the stairs, punishing bottle and platter till neither drop +nor scrap remained.</p> +<p>"Don't leave these dishes for Sir Lupus to fall over!" she cried +to Cato, then sprang to her feet and was out of the door before I +could move, whistling for our horses.</p> +<p>As I came out the horses arrived, and I hastened forward to put +her into her saddle, but she was up and astride ere I reached the +ground, coolly gathering bridle and feeling with her soft leather +toes for the stirrups.</p> +<p>Astonished, for I had never seen a girl so mounted, I climbed to +my saddle and wheeled my mare, following her out across the lawn, +through the stockade and into the road, where I pushed my horse +forward and ranged up beside her at a gallop, just as she reached +the bridge.</p> +<p>"See!" she cried, with a sweep of her arm, "there are the +children down there fishing under the mill." And she waved her +small cap of silver fox, calling in a clear, sweet voice the Indian +cry of triumph, "Kôue!"</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> +<h3>RIDING THE BOUNDS</h3> +<br> +<p>For the first half-mile our road lay over that same golden, +hilly country, and through the same splendid forests which I had +traversed on my way to the manor. Then we galloped past cultivated +land, where clustered spears of Indian corn sprouted above the +reddish golden soil, and sheep fed in stony pastures.</p> +<p>Around the cabins of the tenantry, fields of oats and barley +glimmered, thin blades pricking the loam, brilliant as splintered +emeralds.</p> +<p>A few dropping blossoms still starred the apple-trees, pears +showed in tiny bunches, and once I saw a late peach-tree in full +pink bloom and an old man hoeing the earth around it. He looked up +as we galloped past, saluted sullenly, and leaned on his hoe, +looking after us.</p> +<p>Dorothy said he was a Palatine refugee and a rebel, like the +majority of Sir Lupus's tenants; and I gazed curiously at these +fields and cabins where gaunt men and gaunter women, laboring among +their sprouting vegetables, turned sun-dazzled eyes to watch us as +we clattered by; where ragged children, climbing on the stockades, +called out to us in little, shrill voices; where feeding cattle +lifted sober heads to stare; where lank, yellow dogs rushed out +barking and snapping till a cut of the whip sent them scurrying +back.</p> +<p>Once a woman came to her gate and hailed us, asking if it was +true that the troops had been withdrawn from Johnstown and +Kingsborough.</p> +<p>"Which troops?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Ours," began the woman, then checked herself, and shot a +suspicious glance at me.</p> +<p>"The Provincials are still at Johnstown and Kingsborough," said +Dorothy, gently.</p> +<p>A gleam of relief softened the woman's haggard features. Then +her face darkened again and she pointed at two barefooted children +shrinking against the fence.</p> +<p>"If my man and I were alone we would not be afraid of the +Mohawks; but these--"</p> +<p>She made a desperate gesture, and stood staring at the blue +Mayfield hills where, perhaps at that moment, painted Mohawk scouts +were watching the Sacandaga.</p> +<p>"If your men remain quiet, Mrs. Schell, you need fear neither +rebel, savage, nor Tory," said Dorothy. "The patroon will see that +you have ample protection."</p> +<p>Mrs. Schell gave her a helpless glance. "Did you not know that +the district scout-call has gone out?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Yes; but if the tenants of Sir Lupus obey it they do so at +their peril," replied Dorothy, gravely. "The militia scouts of this +district must not act hastily. Your husband would be mad to answer +a call and leave you here alone."</p> +<p>"What would you have him do?" muttered the woman.</p> +<p>"Do?" repeated Dorothy. "He can do one thing or the other--join +his regiment and take his family to the district fort, or stay at +home and care for you and the farm. These alarms are all +wrong--your men are either soldiers or farmers; they cannot be both +unless they live close enough to the forts. Tell Mr. Schell that +Francy McCraw and his riders are in the forest, and that the +Brandt-Meester of Balston saw a Mohawk smoke-signal on the mountain +behind Mayfield."</p> +<p>The woman folded her bony arms in her apron, cast one tragic +glance at her children, then faced us again, hollow-eyed but +undaunted.</p> +<p>"My man is with Stoner's scout," she said, with dull pride.</p> +<p>"Then you must go to the block-house," began Dorothy, but the +woman pointed to the fields, shaking her head.</p> +<p>"We shall build a block-house here," she said, stubbornly. "We +cannot leave our corn. We must eat, Mistress Varick. My man is too +poor to be a Provincial soldier, too brave to refuse a militia +call--"</p> +<p>She choked, rubbed her eyes, and bent her stern gaze on the +hills once more. Presently we rode on, and, turning in my saddle, I +saw her standing as we had left her, gaunt, rigid, staring steadily +at the dreaded heights in the northwest.</p> +<p>As we galloped, cultivated fields and orchards became rarer; +here and there, it is true, some cabin stood on a half-cleared +hill-side, and we even passed one or two substantial houses on the +flat ridge to the east, but long, solid stretches of forest +intervened, and presently we left the highway and wheeled into a +cool wood-road bordered on either side by the forest.</p> +<p>"Here we find our first landmark," said Dorothy, drawing +bridle.</p> +<p>A white triangle glimmered, cut in the bark of an enormous pine; +and my cousin rode up to the tree and patted the bark with her +little hand. On the triangle somebody had cut a V and painted it +black.</p> +<p>"This is a boundary mark," said Dorothy. "The Mohawks claim the +forest to the east; ride around and you will see their sign."</p> +<p>I guided my horse around the huge, straight trunk. An oval blaze +scarred it and on the wood was painted a red wolf.</p> +<p>"It's the wolf-clan, Brant's own clan of the Mohawk nation," she +called out to me. "Follow me, cousin." And she dashed off down the +wood-road, I galloping behind, leaping windfalls, gullies, and the +shallow forest brooks that crossed our way. The road narrowed to a +trodden trail; the trail faded, marked at first by cut undergrowth, +then only by the white scars on the tree-trunks.</p> +<p>These my cousin followed, her horse at a canter, and I followed +her, halting now and again to verify the white triangle on the +solid flank of some forest giant, passing a sugar-bush with the +shack still standing and the black embers of the fire scattered, +until we came to a logging-road and turned into it, side by side. A +well-defined path crossed this road at right angles, and Dorothy +pointed it out. "The Iroquois trail," she said. "See how deeply it +is worn--nearly ten inches deep--where the Five Nations have +trodden it for centuries. Over it their hunting-parties pass, their +scouts, their war-parties. It runs from the Kennyetto to the +Sacandaga and north over the hills to the Canadas."</p> +<p>We halted and looked down the empty, trodden trail, stretching +away through the forest. Thousands and thousands of light, +moccasined feet had worn it deep and patted it hard as a +sheep-path. On what mission would the next Mohawk feet be speeding +on that trail?</p> +<p>"Those people at Fonda's Bush had best move to Johnstown," said +Dorothy. "If the Mohawks strike, they will strike through here at +Balston or Saratoga, or at the half-dozen families left at Fonda's +Bush, which some of them call Broadalbin."</p> +<p>"Have these poor wretches no one to warn them?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Oh, they have been warned and warned, but they cling to their +cabins as cats cling to soft cushions. The Palatines seem paralyzed +with fear, the Dutch are too lazy to move in around the forts, the +Scotch and English too obstinate. Nobody can do anything for +them--you heard what that Schell woman said when I urged her to +prudence."</p> +<p>I bent my eyes on the ominous trail; its very emptiness +fascinated me, and I dismounted and knelt to examine it where, near +a dry, rotten log, some fresh marks showed.</p> +<p>Behind me I heard Dorothy dismount, dropping to the ground +lightly as a tree-lynx; the next moment she laid her hand on my +shoulder and bent over where I was kneeling.</p> +<p>"Can you read me that sign?" she asked, mischievously.</p> +<p>"Something has rolled and squatted in the dry wood-dust--some +bird, I think."</p> +<p>"A good guess," she said; "a cock-partridge has dusted here; see +those bits of down? I say a cock-bird because I know that log to be +a drumming-log."</p> +<p>She raised herself and guided her horse along the trail, bright +eyes restlessly scanning ground and fringing underbrush.</p> +<p>"Deer passed here--one--two--three--the third a buck--a +three-year old," she said, sinking her voice by instinct. "Yonder a +tree-cat dug for a wood-mouse; your lynx is ever hanging about a +drumming-log."</p> +<p>I laid my hand on her arm and pointed to a fresh, green maple +leaf lying beside the trail.</p> +<p>"Ay," she murmured, "but it fell naturally, cousin. See; here it +parted from the stalk, clean as a poplar twig, leaving the shiny +cup unbruised. And nothing has passed here--this spider's web tells +that, with a dead moth dangling from it, dead these three days, +from its brittle shell."</p> +<p>"I hear water," I said, and presently we came to it, where it +hurried darkling across the trail.</p> +<p>There were no human signs there; here a woodcock had peppered +the mud with little holes, probing for worms; there a raccoon had +picked his way; yonder a lynx had left the great padded mark of its +foot, doubtless watching for yonder mink nosing us from the bank of +the still pool below.</p> +<p>Silently we mounted and rode out of the still Mohawk country; +and I was not sorry to leave, for it seemed to me that there was +something unfriendly in the intense stillness--something baleful in +the silence; and I was glad presently to see an open road and a +great tree marked with Sir Lupus's mark, the sun shining on the +white triangle and the painted V.</p> +<p>Entering a slashing where the logging-road passed, we moved on, +side by side, talking in low tones. And my cousin taught me how to +know these Northern trees by bark and leaf; how to know the shrubs +new to me, like that strange plant whose root is like a human body +and which the Chinese value at its weight in gold; and the aromatic +root used in beer, and the bark of the sweet-birch whose twigs are +golden-black.</p> +<p>Now, though the birds and many of the beasts and trees were +familiar to me in this Northern forest, yet I was constantly at +fault, as I have said. Plumage and leaf and fur puzzled me; our +gray rice-bird here wore a velvet livery of black and white and +sang divinely, though with us he is mute as a mullet; many +squirrels were striped with black and white; no rosy lichen +glimmered on the tree-trunks; no pink-stemmed pines softened sombre +forest depths; no great tiger-striped butterflies told me that the +wild orange was growing near at hand; no whirring, olive-tinted +moth signalled the hidden presence of the oleander. But I saw +everywhere unfamiliar winged things, I heard unfamiliar bird-notes; +new colors perplexed me, new shapes, nay, the very soil smelled +foreign, and the water tasted savorless as the mist of pine barrens +in February.</p> +<p>Still, my Maker had set eyes in my head and given me a nose to +sniff with; and I was learning every moment, tasting, smelling, +touching, listening, asking questions unashamed; and my cousin +Dorothy seemed never to tire in aiding me, nor did her eager +delight and sympathy abate one jot.</p> +<p>Dressed in full deer-skin as was I, she rode her horse astride +with a grace as perfect as it was unstudied and unconscious, +neither affecting the slothful carriage of our Southern +saddle-masters nor the dragoons' rigid seat, but sat at ease, +hollow-backed, loose-thighed, free-reined and free-stirruped.</p> +<p>Her hair, gathered into a golden club at the nape of the neck, +glittered in the sun, her eyes deepened like the violet depths of +mid-heaven. Already the sun had lent her a delicate, creamy mask, +golden on her temples where the hair grew paler; and I thought I +had never seen such wholesome sweetness and beauty in any living +being.</p> +<p>We now rode through a vast flat land of willows, headed due +north once more, and I saw a little river which twisted a hundred +times upon itself like a stricken snake, winding its shimmering +coils out and in through woodland, willow-flat, and reedy +marsh.</p> +<p>"The Kennyetto," said Dorothy, "flowing out of the great Vlaie +to empty its waters close to its source after a circle of half a +hundred miles. Yonder lies the Vlaie--it is that immense flat +country of lake and marsh and forest which is wedged in just south +of the mountain-gap where the last of the Adirondacks split into +the Mayfield hills and the long, low spurs rolling away to the +southeast. Sir William Johnson had a lodge there at Summer-house +Point. Since his death Sir George Covert has leased it from Sir +John. That is our trysting-place."</p> +<p>To hear Sir George's name now vaguely disturbed me, yet I could +not think why, for I admired and liked him. But at the bare mention +of his name a dull uneasiness came over me and I turned impatiently +to my cousin as though the irritation had come from her and she +must explain it.</p> +<p>"What is it?" she inquired, faintly smiling.</p> +<p>"I asked no question," I muttered.</p> +<p>"I thought you meant to speak, cousin."</p> +<p>I had meant to say something. I did not know what.</p> +<p>"You seem to know when I am about to speak," I said; "that is +twice you have responded to my unasked questions."</p> +<p>"I know it," she said, surprised and a trifle perplexed. "I seem +to hear you when you are mute, and I turn to find you looking at +me, as though you had asked me something."</p> +<p>We rode on, thoughtful, silent, aware of a new and wordless +intimacy.</p> +<p>"It is pleasant to be with you," she said at last. "I have never +before found untroubled contentment save when I am alone.... +Everything that you see and think of on this ride I seem to see and +think of, too, and know that you are observing with the same +delight that I feel.... Nor does anything in the world disturb my +happiness. Nor do you vex me with silence when I would have you +speak; nor with speech when I ride dreaming--as I do, cousin, for +hours and hours--not sadly, but in the sweetest peace--"</p> +<p>Her voice died out like a June breeze; our horses, ear to ear +moved on slowly in the fragrant silence.</p> +<p>"To ride ... forever ... together," she mused, "looking with +perfect content on all the world.... I teaching you, or you me; ... +it's all one for the delight it gives to be alive and young.... And +no trouble to await us, ... nothing malicious to do a harm to any +living thing.... I could renounce Heaven for that.... Could +you?"</p> +<p>"Yes.... For less."</p> +<p>"I know I ask too much; grief makes us purer, fitting us for the +company of blessed souls. They say that even war may be a holy +thing--though we are commanded otherwise.... Cousin, at moments a +demon rises in me and I desire some forbidden thing so ardently, so +passionately, that it seems as if I could fight a path through +paradise itself to gain what I desire.... Do you feel so?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Is it not consuming--terrible to be so shaken?... Yet I never +gain my desire, for there in my path my own self rises to confront +me, blocking my way. And I can never pass--never.... Once, in +winter, our agent, Mr. Fonda, came driving a trained caribou to a +sledge. A sweet, gentle thing, with dark, mild eyes, and I was mad +to drive it--mad, cousin! But Sir Lupus learned that it had trodden +and gored a man, and put me on my honor not to drive it. And all +day Sir Lupus was away at Kingsborough for his rents and I free to +drive the sledge, ... and I was mad to do it--and could not. And +the pretty beast stabled with our horses, and every day I might +have driven it.... I never did.... It hurts yet, cousin.... How +strange is it that to us the single word, 'honor,' blocks the road +and makes the King's own highway no thorough-fare forever!"</p> +<p>She gathered bridle nervously, and we launched our horses +through a willow fringe and away over a soft, sandy intervale, +riding knee to knee till the wind whistled in our ears and the sand +rose fountain high at every stride of our bounding horses.</p> +<p>"Ah!" she sighed, drawing bridle. "That clears the heart of +silly troubles. Was it not glorious? Like a plunge to the throat in +an icy pool!"</p> +<p>Her face, radiant, transfigured, was turned to the north, where, +glittering under the westward sun, the sunny waters of the Vlaie +sparkled between green reeds and rushes. Beyond, smoky blue +mountains tumbled into two uneven walls, spread southeast and +southwest, flanking the flat valley of the Vlaie.</p> +<p>Thousands of blackbirds chattered and croaked and trilled and +whistled in the reeds, flitting upward, with a flash of scarlet on +their wings; hovering, dropping again amid a ceaseless chorus from +the half-hidden flock. Over the marshes slow hawks sailed, rose, +wheeled, and fell; the gray ducks, whose wings bear purple +diamond-squares, quacked in the tussock ponds, guarded by their +sentinels, the tall, blue herons. Everywhere the earth was sheeted +with marsh-marigolds and violets.</p> +<p>Across the distant grassy flat two deer moved, grazing. We rode +to the east, skirting the marshes, following a trail made by +cattle, until beyond the flats we saw the green roof of the +pleasure-house which Sir William Johnson had built for himself. Our +ride together was nearly ended.</p> +<p>As at the same thought we tightened bridle and looked at each +other gravely.</p> +<p>"All rides end," I said.</p> +<p>"Ay, like happiness."</p> +<p>"Both may be renewed."</p> +<p>"Until they end again."</p> +<p>"Until they end forever."</p> +<p>She clasped her bare hands on her horse's neck, sitting with +bent head as though lost in sombre memories.</p> +<p>"What ends forever might endure forever," I said.</p> +<p>"Not our rides together," she murmured. "You must return to the +South one day. I must wed.... Where shall we be this day a year +hence?"</p> +<p>"Very far apart, cousin."</p> +<p>"Will you remember this ride?"</p> +<p>"Yes," I said, troubled.</p> +<p>"I will, too.... And I shall wonder what you are doing."</p> +<p>"And I shall think of you," I said, soberly.</p> +<p>"Will you write?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Will you?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Silence fell between us like a shadow; then:</p> +<p>"Yonder rides Sir George Covert," she said, listlessly.</p> +<p>I saw him dismounting before his door, but said nothing.</p> +<p>"Shall we move forward?" she asked, but did not stir a finger +towards the bridle lying on her horse's neck.</p> +<p>Another silence; and, impatiently:</p> +<p>"I cannot bear to have you go," she said; "we are perfectly +contented together--and I wish you to know all the thoughts I have +touching on the world and on people. I cannot tell them to my +father, nor to Ruyven--and Cecile is too young--"</p> +<p>"There is Sir George," I said.</p> +<p>"He! Why, I should never think of telling him of these thoughts +that please or trouble or torment me!" she said, in frank surprise. +"He neither cares for the things you care for nor thinks about them +at all."</p> +<p>"Perhaps he does. Ask him."</p> +<p>"I have. He smiles and says nothing. I am afraid to tax his +courtesy with babble of beast and bird and leaf and flower; and why +one man is rich and another poor; and whether it is right that men +should hold slaves; and why our Lord permits evil, having the power +to end it for all time. I should like to know all these things," +she said, earnestly.</p> +<p>"But I do not know them, Dorothy."</p> +<p>"Still, you think about them, and so do I. Sir Lupus says you +have liberated your Greeks and sent them back. I want to know why. +Then, too, though neither you nor I can know our Lord's purpose in +enduring the evil that Satan plans, it is pleasant, I think, to ask +each other."</p> +<p>"To think together," I said, sadly.</p> +<p>"Yes; that is it. Is it not a pleasure?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Dorothy."</p> +<p>"It does not matter that we fail to learn; it is the happiness +in knowing that the other also cares to know, the delight in +seaching for reason together. Cousin, I have so longed to say this +to somebody; and until you came I never believed it possible.... I +wish we were brother and sister! I wish you were Cecile, and I +could be with you all day and all night.... At night, half asleep, +I think of wonderful things to talk about, but I forget them by +morning. Do you?"</p> +<p>"Yes, cousin."</p> +<p>"It is strange we are so alike!" she said, staring at me +thoughtfully.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="IX"></a>IX</h2> +<h3>HIDDEN FIRE</h3> +<br> +<p>After a few moments' silence we moved forward towards the +pleasure-house, and we had scarcely started when down the road, +from the north, came the patroon riding a powerful black horse, +attended by old Cato mounted on a raw-boned hunter, and by one +Peter Van Horn, the district Brandt-Meester, or fire-warden. As +they halted at Sir George Covert's door, we rode up to join them at +a gallop, and the patroon, seeing us far off, waved his hat at us +in evident good humor.</p> +<p>"Not a landmark missing!" he shouted, "and my signs all +witnessed for record by Peter and Cato! How do the southwest +landmarks stand?"</p> +<p>"The tenth pine is blasted by lightning," said Dorothy, walking +her beautiful gray to Sir Lupus's side.</p> +<p>"Pooh! We've a dozen years to change trees," said Sir Lupus, in +great content. "All's well everywhere, save at the Fish-House near +the Sacandaga ford, where some impudent rascal says he saw smoke on +the hills. He's doubtless a liar. Where's Sir George?"</p> +<p>Sir George sauntered forth from the doorway where he had been +standing, and begged us to dismount, but the patroon declined, +saying that we had far to ride ere sundown, and that one of us +should go around by Broadalbin. However, Dorothy and I slipped from +our saddles to stretch our legs while a servant brought +stirrup-cups and Sir George gathered a spray of late lilac which my +cousin fastened to her leather belt.</p> +<p>"Tory lilacs," said Sir George, slyly; "these bushes came from +cuttings of those Sir William planted at Johnson Hall."</p> +<p>"If Sir William planted them, a rebel may wear them," replied +Dorothy, gayly.</p> +<p>"Ay, it's that whelp, Sir John, who has marred what the great +baronet left as his monument," growled old Peter Van Horn.</p> +<p>"That's treason!" snapped the patroon. "Stop it. I won't have +politics talked in my presence, no! Dammy, Peter, hold your tongue, +sir!"</p> +<p>Dorothy, wearing the lilac spray, vaulted lightly into her +saddle, and I mounted my mare. Stirrup-cups were filled and passed +up to us, and we drained a cooled measure of spiced claret to the +master of the pleasure-house, who pledged us gracefully in return, +and then stood by Dorothy's horse, chatting and laughing until, at +a sign from Sir Lupus, Cato sounded "Afoot!" on his curly +hunting-horn, and the patroon wheeled his big horse out into the +road, with a whip-salute to our host.</p> +<p>"Dine with us to-night!" he bawled, without turning his fat head +or waiting for a reply, and hammered away in a torrent of dust. Sir +George glanced wistfully at Dorothy.</p> +<p>"There's a district officer-call gone out," he said. "Some of +the Palatine officers desire my presence. I cannot refuse. So ... +it is good-bye for a week."</p> +<p>"Are you a militia officer?" I asked, curiously.</p> +<p>"Yes," he said, with a humorous grimace. "May I say that you +also are a candidate?"</p> +<p>Dorothy turned squarely in her saddle and looked me in the +eyes.</p> +<p>"At the district's service, Sir George," I said, lightly.</p> +<p>"Ha! That is well done, Ormond!" he exclaimed. "Nothing yet to +inconvenience you, but our Governor Clinton may send you a billet +doux from Albany before May ends and June begins--if this +periwigged beau, St. Leger, strolls out to ogle Stanwix--"</p> +<p>Dorothy turned her horse sharply, saluted Sir George, and +galloped away towards her father, who had halted at the cross-roads +to wait for us.</p> +<p>"Good-bye, Sir George," I said, offering my hand. He took it in +a firm, steady clasp.</p> +<p>"A safe journey, Ormond. I trust fortune may see fit to throw us +together in this coming campaign."</p> +<p>I bowed, turned bridle, and cantered off, leaving him standing +in the road before his gayly painted pleasure-house, an empty +wine-cup in his hand.</p> +<p>"Damnation, George!" bawled Sir Lupus, as I rode up, "have we +all day to stand nosing one another and trading gossip! Some of us +must ride by Fonda's Bush, or Broadalbin, whatever the Scotch loons +call it; and I'll say plainly that I have no stomach for it; I want +my dinner!"</p> +<p>"It will give me pleasure to go," said I, "but I require a +guide."</p> +<p>"Peter shall ride with you," began Sir Lupus; but Dorothy broke +in, impatiently:</p> +<p>"He need not. I shall guide Mr. Ormond to Broadalbin."</p> +<p>"Oh no, you won't!" snapped the patroon; "you've done enough of +forest-running for one day. Peter, pilot Mr. Ormond to the +Bush."</p> +<p>And he galloped on ahead, followed by Cato and Peter; so that, +by reason of their dust, which we did not choose to choke in, +Dorothy and I slackened our pace and fell behind.</p> +<p>"Do you know why you are to pass by Broadalbin?" she asked, +presently.</p> +<p>I said I did not.</p> +<p>"Folk at the Fish-House saw smoke on the Mayfield hills an hour +since. That is twice in three days!"</p> +<p>"Well," said I, "what of that?"</p> +<p>"It is best that the Broadalbin settlement should hear of +it."</p> +<p>"Do you mean that it may have been an Indian signal?"</p> +<p>"It may have been. I did not see it--the forest cut our +view."</p> +<p>The westering sun, shining over the Mayfield hills, turned the +dust to golden fog. Through it Cato's red coat glimmered, and the +hunting-horn, curving up over his bent back, struck out streams of +blinding sparks. Brass buttons on the patroon's broad coat-skirts +twinkled like yellow stars, and the spurs flashed on his +quarter-gaiters as he pounded along at a solid hand-gallop, hat +crammed over his fat ears, pig-tail a-bristle, and the blue coat on +his enormous body white with dust.</p> +<p>In the renewed melody of the song-birds there was a hint of +approaching evening; shadows lengthened; the sunlight grew redder +on the dusty road.</p> +<p>"The Broadalbin trail swings into the forest just ahead," said +Dorothy, pointing with her whip-stock. "See, there where they are +drawing bridle. But I mean to ride with you, nevertheless.... And +I'll do it!"</p> +<p>The patroon was waiting for us when we came to the +weather-beaten finger-post:</p> +<blockquote>"FONDA'S BUSH<br> +4 MILES."</blockquote> +<p>And Peter Van Horn had already ridden into the broad, soft +wood-road, when Dorothy, swinging her horse past him at a gallop, +cried out, "I want to go with them! Please let me!" And was gone +like a deer, tearing away down the leafy trail.</p> +<p>"Come back!" roared Sir Lupus, standing straight up in his +ponderous stirrups. "Come back, you little vixen! Am I to be +obeyed, or am I not? Baggage! Undutiful tree-cat! Dammy, she's +off!"</p> +<p>He looked at me and smote his fat thigh with open hand.</p> +<p>"Did you ever see the like of her!" he chuckled, in his pride. +"She's a Dutch Varick for obstinacy, but the rest is Ormond--all +Ormond. Ride on, George, and tell those rebel fools at Fonda's Bush +that they should be hunting cover in the forts if folk at the +Fish-House read that smoke aright. Follow the Brandt-Meester if +Dorothy slips you, and tell her I'll birch her, big as she is, if +she's not home by the new moon rise."</p> +<p>Then he dragged his hat over his mottled ears, grasped the +bridle and galloped on, followed by old Cato and his red coat and +curly horn.</p> +<p>I had ridden a cautious mile on the dim, leafy trail ere I +picked up Van Horn, only to quit him. I had ridden full three +before I caught sight of Dorothy, sitting her gray horse, head at +gaze in my direction.</p> +<p>"What in the world set you tearing off through the forest like +that?" I asked, laughing.</p> +<p>She turned her horse and we walked on, side by side.</p> +<p>"I wished to come," she said, simply. "The pleasures of this day +must end only with the night. Besides, I was burning to ask you if +it is true that you mean to stay here and serve with our +militia?"</p> +<p>"I mean to stay," I said, slowly.</p> +<p>"And serve?"</p> +<p>"If they desire it."</p> +<p>"Why?" she asked, raising her bright eyes.</p> +<p>I thought a moment, then said:</p> +<p>"I have decided to resist our King's soldiers."</p> +<p>"But why here?" she repeated, clear eyes still on mine. "Tell me +the truth."</p> +<p>"I think it is because you are here," I said, soberly.</p> +<p>The loveliest smile parted her lips.</p> +<p>"I hoped you would say that.... Do I please you? Listen, cousin: +I have a mad impulse to follow you--to be hindered rages me beyond +endurance--as when Sir Lupus called me back. For, within the past +hour the strangest fancy has possessed me that we have little time +left to be together; that I should not let one moment slip to enjoy +you."</p> +<p>"Foolish prophetess," I said, striving to laugh.</p> +<p>"A prophetess?" she repeated under her breath. And, as we rode +on through the forest dusk, her head drooped thoughtfully, shaded +by her loosened hair. At last she looked up dreamily, musing +aloud:</p> +<p>"No prophetess, cousin; only a child, nerveless and over-fretted +with too much pleasure, tired out with excitement, having played +too hard. I do not know quite how I should conduct. I am +unaccustomed to comrades like you, cousin; and, in the untasted +delights of such companionship, have run wild till my head swims +wi' the humming thoughts you stir in me, and I long for a dark, +still room and a bed to lie on, and think of this day's +pleasures."</p> +<p>After a silence, broken only by our horses treading the moist +earth: "I have been starving for this companionship.... I was +parched!... Cousin, have you let me drink too deeply? Have you been +too kind? Why am I in this new terror lest you--lest you tire of me +and my silly speech? Oh, I know my thoughts have been too long +pent! I could talk to you forever! I could ride with you till I +died! I am like a caged thing loosed, I tell you--for I may tell +you, may I not, cousin?"</p> +<p>"Tell me all you think, Dorothy."</p> +<p>"I could tell you all--everything! I never had a thought that I +do not desire you to know, ... save one.... And that I do desire to +tell you ... but cannot.... Cousin, why did you name your mare +Isene?"</p> +<p>"An Indian girl in Florida bore that name; the Seminoles called +her Issena."</p> +<p>"And so you named your mare from her?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Was she your friend--that you named your mare from her?"</p> +<p>"She lived a century ago--a princess. She wedded with a +Huguenot."</p> +<p>"Oh," said Dorothy, "I thought she was perhaps your +sweetheart."</p> +<p>"I have none."</p> +<p>"You never had one?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>I turned in my saddle.</p> +<p>"Why have you never had a gallant?"</p> +<p>"Oh, that is not the same. Men fall in love--or protest as much. +And at wine they boast of their good fortunes, swearing each that +his mistress is the fairest, and bragging till I yawn to listen.... +And yet you say you never had a sweetheart?"</p> +<p>"Neither titled nor untitled, cousin. And, if I had, at home we +never speak of it, deeming it a breach of honor."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"For shame, I suppose."</p> +<p>"Is it shameless to speak as I do?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Not to me, Dorothy. I wish you might be spared all that +unlicensed gossip that you hear at table--not that it could harm +such innocence as yours! For, on my honor, I never knew a woman +such as you, nor a maid so nobly fashioned!"</p> +<p>I stopped, meeting her wide eyes.</p> +<p>"Say it," she murmured. "It is happiness to hear you."</p> +<p>"Then hear me," I said, slowly. "Loyalty, devotion, tenderness, +all are your due; not alone for the fair body that holds your soul +imprisoned, but for the pure tenant that dwells in it so sweetly +behind the blue windows of your eyes! Dorothy! Dorothy! Have I said +too much? Yet I beg that you remember it, lest you forget me when I +have gone from you.... And say to Sir George that I said it.... +Tell him after you are wedded, and say that all men envy him, yet +wish him well. For the day he weds he weds the noblest woman in all +the confines of this earth!"</p> +<p>Dazed, she stared at me through the fading light; and I saw her +eyes all wet in the shadow of her tangled hair and the pulse +beating in her throat.</p> +<p>"You are so good--so pitiful," she said; "and I cannot even find +the words to tell you of those deep thoughts you stir in me--to +tell you how sweetly you use me--"</p> +<p>"Tell me no more," I stammered, all a-quiver at her voice. She +shrank back as at a blow, and I, head swimming, frighted, penitent, +caught her small hand in mine and drew her nearer; nor could I +speak for the loud beating of my heart.</p> +<p>"What is it?" she murmured. "Have I pained you that you tremble +so? Look at me, cousin. I can scarce see you in the dusk. Have I +hurt you? I love you dearly."</p> +<p>Her horse moved nearer, our knees touched. In the forest +darkness I found I held her waist imprisoned, and her arms were +heavy on my shoulders. Then her lips yielded and her arms tightened +around my neck, and that swift embrace in the swimming darkness +kindled in me a flame that has never died--that shall live when +this poor body crumbles into dust, lighting my soul through its +last dark pilgrimage.</p> +<p>As for her, she sat up in her saddle with a strange little +laugh, still holding to my hand. "Oh, you are divine in all you +lead me to," she whispered. "Never, never have I known delight in a +kiss; and I have been kissed, too, willing and against my will. But +you leave me breathing my heart out and all a-tremble with a +tenderness for you--no, not again, cousin, not yet."</p> +<p>Then slowly the full wretchedness of guilt burned me, bone and +soul, and what I had done seemed a black evil to a maid betrothed, +and to the man whose wine had quenched my thirst an hour since.</p> +<p>Something of my thoughts she may have read in my bent head and +face averted, for she leaned forward in her saddle, and drawing me +by the arm, turned me partly towards her.</p> +<p>"What troubles you?" she said, anxiously.</p> +<p>"My treason to Sir George."</p> +<p>"What treason?" she said, amazed.</p> +<p>"That I--caressed you."</p> +<p>She laughed outright.</p> +<p>"Am I not free-until I wed? Do you imagine I should have signed +my liberty away to please Sir George? Why, cousin, if I may not +caress whom I choose and find a pleasure in the way you use me, I +am no better than the winter log he buys to toast his shins +at!"</p> +<p>Then she grew angry in her impatience, slapping her bridle down +to range her horse up closer to mine.</p> +<p>"Am I not to wed him?" she said. "Is not that enough? And I told +him so, flatly, I warrant you, when Captain Campbell kissed me on +the porch--which maddened me, for he was not to my fancy--but Sir +George saw him and there was like to be a silly scene until I made +it plain that I would endure no bonds before I wore a +wedding-ring!" She laughed deliciously. "I think he understands now +that I am not yoked until I bend my neck. And until I bend it I am +free. So if I please you, kiss me, ... but leave me a little breath +to draw, cousin, ... and a saddle to cling to.... Now loose me--for +the forest ends!"</p> +<a name="354.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/354.jpg"><img src="images/354.jpg" +width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"NOW LOOSE ME--FOR THE FOREST ENDS!".</b></p> +<p>A faint red light grew in the woodland gloom; a rushing noise +like swiftly flowing water filled my ears--or was it the blood that +surged singing through my heart?</p> +<p>"Broadalbin Bush," she murmured, clearing her eyes of the +clouded hair and feeling for her stirrups with small, moccasined +toes. "Hark! Now we hear the Kennyetto roaring below the hill. See, +cousin, it is sunset, the west blazes, all heaven is afire! Ah! +what sorcery has turned the world to paradise--riding this day with +you?"</p> +<p>She turned in her saddle with an exquisite gesture, pressed her +outstretched hand against my lips, then, gathering bridle, launched +her horse straight through the underbrush, out into a pasture +where, across a naked hill, a few log-houses reddened in the +sunset.</p> +<p>There hung in the air a smell of sweetbrier as we drew bridle +before a cabin under the hill. I leaned over and plucked a handful +of the leaves, bruising them in my palm to savor the spicy +perfume.</p> +<p>A man came to the door of the cabin and stared at us; a tap-room +sluggard, a-sunning on the west fence-rail, chewed his cud solemnly +and watched us with watery eyes.</p> +<p>"Andrew Bowman, have you seen aught to fright folk on the +mountain?" asked Dorothy, gravely.</p> +<p>The man in the doorway shook his head. From the cabins near by a +few men and women trooped out into the road and hastened towards +us. One of the houses bore a bush, and I saw two men peering at us +through the open window, pewters in hand.</p> +<p>"Good people," said Dorothy, quietly, "the patroon sends you +word of a strange smoke seen this day in the hills."</p> +<p>"There's smoke there now," I said, pointing into the sunset.</p> +<p>At that moment Peter Van Horn galloped up, halted, and turned +his head, following the direction of my outstretched arm. Others +came, blinking into the ruddy evening glow, craning their necks to +see, and from the wretched tavern a lank lout stumbled forth, rifle +shouldered, pewter a-slop, to learn the news that had brought us +hither at that hour.</p> +<p>"It is mist," said a woman; but her voice trembled as she said +it.</p> +<p>"It is smoke," growled Van Horn. "Read it, you who can."</p> +<p>Whereat the fellow in the tavern window fell a-laughing and +called down to his companion: "Francy McCraw! Francy McCraw! The +Brandt-Meester says a Mohawk fire burns in the north!"</p> +<p>"I hear him," cried McCraw, draining his pewter.</p> +<p>Dorothy turned sharply. "Oh, is that you, McCraw? What brings +you to the Bush?"</p> +<p>The lank fellow turned his wild, blue eyes on her, then gazed at +the smoke. Some of the men scowled at him.</p> +<p>"Is that smoke?" I asked, sharply. "Answer me, McCraw!"</p> +<p>"A canna' deny it," he said, with a mad chuckle.</p> +<p>"Is it Indian smoke?" demanded Van Horn.</p> +<p>"Aweel," he replied, craning his skinny neck and cocking his +head impudently--"aweel, a'll admit that, too. It's Indian smoke; a +canna deny it, no."</p> +<p>"Is it a Mohawk signal?" I asked, bluntly.</p> +<p>At which he burst out into a crowing laugh.</p> +<p>"What does he say?" called out the man from the tavern. "What +does he say, Francy McCraw?"</p> +<p>"He says it maun be Mohawk smoke, Danny Redstock."</p> +<p>"And what if it is?" blustered Redstock, shouldering his way to +McCraw, rifle in hand. "Keep your black looks for your neighbors, +Andrew Bowman. What have we to do with your Mohawk fires?"</p> +<p>"Herman Salisbury!" cried Bowman to a neighbor, "do you hear +what this Tory renegade says?"</p> +<p>"Quiet! Quiet, there," said Redstock, swaggering out into the +road. "Francy McCraw, our good neighbors are woful perplexed by +that thread o' birch smoke yonder."</p> +<p>"Then tell the feckless fools tae watch it!" screamed McCraw, +seizing his rifle and menacing the little throng of men and women +who had closed swiftly in on him. "Hands off me, Johnny +Putnam--back, for your life, Charley Cady! Ay, stare at the smoke +till ye're eyes drop frae th' sockets! But no; there's some foulk +'ill tak' nae warnin'!"</p> +<p>He backed off down the road, followed by Redstock, rifles +cocked.</p> +<p>"An' ye'll bear me out," he shouted, "that there's them wha' +hear these words now shall meet their weirds ere a hunter's moon is +wasted!"</p> +<p>He laughed his insane laugh and, throwing his rifle over his +shoulder, halted, facing us.</p> +<p>"Hae ye no heard o' Catrine Montour?" he jeered. "She'll come in +the night, Andrew Bowman! Losh, mon, but she's a grewsome carlin', +wi' the witch-locks hangin' to her neck an' her twa een +blazin'!"</p> +<p>"You drive us out to-night!" shouted Redstock. "We'll remember +it when Brant is in the hills!"</p> +<p>"The wolf-yelp! Clan o' the wolf!" screamed McCraw. "Woe! Woe to +Broadalbane! 'Tis the pibroch o' Glencoe shall wake ye to the woods +afire! Be warned! Be warned, for ye stand knee-deep in ye're +shrouds!"</p> +<p>In the ruddy dusk their dark forms turned to shadows and were +gone.</p> +<p>Van Horn stirred in his saddle, then shook his shoulders as +though freeing them from a weight.</p> +<p>"Now you have it, you Broadalbin men," he said, grimly. "Go to +the forts while there's time."</p> +<p>In the darkness around us children began to whimper; a woman +broke down, sobbing.</p> +<p>"Silence!" cried Bowman, sternly. And to Dorothy, who sat +quietly on her horse beside him, "Say to the patroon that we know +our enemies. And you, Peter Van Horn, on whichever side you stand, +we men of the Bush thank you and this young lady for your +coming."</p> +<p>And that was all. In silence we wheeled our horses northward, +Van Horn riding ahead, and passed out of that dim hamlet which lay +already in the shadows of an unknown terror.</p> +<p>Behind us, as we looked back, one or two candles flickered in +cabin windows, pitiful, dim lights in the vast, dark ocean of the +forest. Above us the stars grew clearer. A vesper-sparrow sang its +pensive song. Tranquil, sweet, the serene notes floated into silver +echoes never-ending, till it seemed as if the starlight all around +us quivered into song.</p> +<p>I touched Dorothy, riding beside me, white as a spirit in the +pale radiance, and she turned her sweet, fearless face to mine.</p> +<p>"There is a sound," I whispered, "very far away."</p> +<p>She laid her hand in mine and drew bridle, listening. Van Horn, +too, had halted.</p> +<p>Far in the forest the sound stirred the silence; soft, stealthy, +nearer, nearer, till it grew into a patter. Suddenly Van Horn's +horse reared.</p> +<p>"It's there! it's there!" he cried, hoarsely, as our horses +swung round in terror.</p> +<p>"Look!" muttered Dorothy.</p> +<p>Then a thing occurred that stopped my heart's blood. For +straight through the forest came running a dark shape, a +squattering thing that passed us ere we could draw breath to +shriek; animal, human, or spirit, I knew not, but it ran on, +thuddy-thud, thuddy-thud! and we struggling with our frantic horses +to master them ere they dashed us lifeless among the trees.</p> +<p>"Jesu!" gasped Van Horn, dragging his powerful horse back into +the road. "Can you make aught o' yonder fearsome thing, like a +wart-toad scrabbling on two legs?"</p> +<p>Dorothy, teeth set, drove her heels into her gray's ribs and +forced him to where my mare stood all a-quiver.</p> +<p>"It's a thing from hell," panted Van Horn, fighting knee and +wrist with his roan. "My nag shies at neither bear nor wolf! Look +at him now!"</p> +<p>"Nor mine at anything save a savage," said I, fearfully peering +behind me while my mare trembled under me.</p> +<p>"I think we have seen a savage, that is all," fell Dorothy's +calm voice. "I think we have seen Catrine Montour."</p> +<p>At the name, Van Horn swore steadily.</p> +<p>"If that be the witch Montour, she runs like a clansman with the +fiery cross," I said, shuddering.</p> +<p>"And that is like to be her business," muttered Van Horn. "The +painted forest-men are in the hills, and if Senecas, Cayugas, and +Onondagas do not know it this night, it will be no fault of Catrine +Montour."</p> +<p>"Ride on, Peter," said Dorothy, and checked her horse till my +mare came abreast.</p> +<p>"Are you afraid?" I whispered.</p> +<p>"Afraid? No!" she said, astonished. "What should arouse fear in +me?"</p> +<p>"Your common-sense!" I said, impatiently, irritated to rudeness +by the shocking and unearthly spectacle which had nigh unnerved me. +But she answered very sweetly:</p> +<p>"If I fear nothing, it is because there is nothing that I know +of in the world to fright me. I remember," she added, gravely, "'A +thousand shall fall at my side and ten thousand at my right hand. +And it shall not come nigh me.' How can I fear, believing +that?"</p> +<p>She leaned from her saddle and I saw her eyes searching my face +in the darkness.</p> +<p>"Silly," she said, tenderly, "I have no fear save that you +should prove unkind."</p> +<p>"Then give yourself to me, Dorothy," I said, holding her +imprisoned.</p> +<p>"How can I? You have me."</p> +<p>"I mean forever."</p> +<p>"But I have."</p> +<p>"I mean in wedlock!" I whispered, fiercely.</p> +<p>"How can I, silly--I am promised!"</p> +<p>"Can I not stir you to love me?" I said.</p> +<p>"To love you?... Better than I do?... You may try."</p> +<p>"Then wed me!"</p> +<p>"If I were wed to you would I love you better than I do?" she +asked.</p> +<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy," I begged, holding her fast, "wed me; I love +you."</p> +<p>She swayed back into her saddle, breaking my clasp.</p> +<p>"You know I cannot," she said.... Then, almost tenderly: "Do you +truly desire it? It is so dear to hear you say it--and I have heard +the words often enough, too, but never as you say them.... Had you +asked me in December, ere I was in honor bound.... But I am +promised; ... only a word, but it holds me like a chain.... Dear +lad, forget it.... Use me kindly.... Teach me to love, ... an +unresisting pupil, ... for all life is too short for me to learn +in, ... alas!... God guard us both from love's unhappiness and +grant us only its sweetness--which you have taught me; to which I +am--I am awaking, ... after all these years, ... after all these +years without you.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Perhaps it were kinder to let me sleep.... I am but half awake +to love.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Is it best to wake me, after all? Is it too late?... Draw bridle +in the starlight. Look at me.... It is too late, for I shall never +sleep again."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="X"></a>X</h2> +<h3>TWO LESSONS</h3> +<br> +<p>For two whole days I did not see my cousin Dorothy, she lying +abed with hot and aching head, and the blinds drawn to keep out all +light. So I had time to consider what we had said and done, and to +what we stood committed.</p> +<p>Yet, with time heavy on my hands and full leisure to think, I +could make nothing of those swift, fevered hours together, nor what +had happened to us that the last moments should have found us in +each other's arms, her tear-stained eyes closed, her lips crushed +to mine. For, within that same hour, at table, she told Sir Lupus +to my very face that she desired to wed Sir George as soon as might +be, and would be content with nothing save that Sir Lupus despatch +a messenger to the pleasure house, bidding Sir George dispose of +his affairs so that the marriage fall within the first three days +of June.</p> +<p>I could not doubt my own ears, yet could scarce credit my +shocked senses to hear her; and I had sat there, now hot with +anger, now in cold amazement; not touching food save with an effort +that cost me all my self-command.</p> +<p>As for Sir Lupus, his astonishment and delight disgusted me, for +he fell a-blubbering in his joy, loading his daughter with +caresses, breaking out into praises of her, lauding above all her +filial gratitude and her constancy to Sir George, whom he also +larded and smeared with compliments till his eulogium, buttered all +too thick for my weakened stomach, drove me from the table to pace +the dark porch and strive to reconcile all these warring memories +a-battle in my swimming brain.</p> +<p>What demon possessed her to throw away time, when time was our +most precious ally, our only hope! With time--if she truly loved +me--what might not be done? And here, too, was another ally swiftly +coming to our aid on Time's own wings--the war!--whose far breath +already fanned the Mohawk smoke on the northern hills! And still +another friendly ally stood to aid us--absence! For, with Sir +George away, plunged into new scenes, new hopes, new ambitions, he +might well change in his affections. An officer, and a successful +one, rising higher every day in the esteem of his countrymen, +should find all paths open, all doors unlocked, and a gracious +welcome among those great folk of New York city, whose princely +mode of living might not only be justified, but even titled under a +new régime and a new monarchy.</p> +<p>These were the half-formed, maddened thoughts that went a-racing +through my mind as I paced the porch that night; and I think they +were, perhaps, the most unworthy thoughts that ever tempted me. For +I hated Sir George and wished him a quick flight to immortality +unless he changed in his desire for wedlock with my cousin.</p> +<p>Gnawing my lips in growing rage I saw the messenger for the +pleasure house mount and gallop out of the stockade, and I wished +him evil chance and a fall to dash his senses out ere he rode up +with his cursed message to Sir George's door.</p> +<p>Passion blinded and deafened me to all whispers of decency; +conscience lay stunned within me, and I think I know now what black +obsession drives men's bodies into murder and their souls to +punishments eternal.</p> +<p>Quivering from head to heel, now hot, now cold, and strangling +with the fierce desire for her whom I was losing more hopelessly +every moment, I started aimlessly through the starlight, pacing the +stockade like a caged beast, and I thought my swelling heart would +choke me if it broke not to ease my breath.</p> +<p>So this was love! A ghastly thing, God wot, to transform an +honest man, changing and twisting right and wrong until the threads +of decency and duty hung too hopelessly entangled for him to follow +or untwine. Only one thing could I see or understand: I desired her +whom I loved and was now fast losing forever.</p> +<p>Chance and circumstance had enmeshed me; in vain I struggled in +the net of fate, bruised, stunned, confused with grief and this new +fire of passion which had flashed up around me until I had inhaled +the flames and must forever bear their scars within as long as my +seared heart could pulse.</p> +<p>As I stood there under the dim trees, dumb, miserable, straining +my ears for the messenger's return, came my cousin Dorothy in the +pale, flowered gown she wore at supper, and ere she perceived me I +saw her searching for me, treading the new grass without a sound, +one hand pressed to her parted lips.</p> +<p>When she saw me she stood still, and her hands fell loosely to +her side.</p> +<p>"Cousin," she said, in a faint voice.</p> +<p>And, as I did not answer, she stepped nearer till I could see +her blue eyes searching mine.</p> +<p>"What have you done!" I cried, harshly.</p> +<p>"I do not know," she said.</p> +<p>"I know," I retorted, fiercely. "Time was all we had--a few poor +hours--a day or two together. And with time there was chance, and +with chance, hope. You have killed all three!"</p> +<p>"No; ... there was no chance; there is no longer any time; there +never was any hope."</p> +<p>"There was hope!" I said, bitterly.</p> +<p>"No, there was none," she murmured.</p> +<p>"Then why did you tell me that you were free till the yoke +locked you to him? Why did you desire to love? Why did you bid me +teach you? Why did you consent to my lips, my arms? Why did you +awake me?"</p> +<p>"God knows," she said, faintly.</p> +<p>"Is that your defence?" I asked. "Have you no defence?"</p> +<p>"None.... I had never loved.... I found you kind and I had known +no man like you.... Every moment with you entranced me till, ... I +don't know why, ... that sweet madness came upon ... us ... which +can never come again--which must never come.... Forgive me. I did +not understand. Love was a word to me."</p> +<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy, what have I done!" I stammered.</p> +<p>"Not you, but I, ... and now it is plain to me why, unwedded, I +stand yoked together with my honor, and you stand apart, fettered +to yours.... We have shaken our chains in play, the links still +hold firm and bright; but if we break them, then, as they snap, our +honor dies forever. For what I have done in idle ignorance forgive +me, and leave me to my penance, ... which must last for all my +life, cousin.... And you will forget.... Hush! dearest lad, and let +me speak. Well, then I will say that I pray you may forget! Well, +then I will not say that to grieve you.... I wish you to +remember--yet not know the pain that I--"</p> +<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy, do you still love me?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I do love you!... No, no! I ask you to spare me even the +touch of your hand! I ask it, I beg you to spare me! I implore--Be +a shield to me! Aid me, cousin. I ask it for the Ormond honor and +for the honor of the roof that shelters us both!... Now do you +understand?... Oh, I knew you to be all that I adore and +worship!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Our fault was in our ignorance. How could we know of that hidden +fire within us, stirring its chilled embers in all innocence until +the flames flashed out and clothed us both in glory, cousin? Heed +me, lest it turn to flames of hell!</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>And now, dear lad, lest you should deem me mad to cut short the +happy time we had to hope for, I must tell you what I have never +told before. All that we have in all the world is by charity of Sir +George. He stood in the breach when the Cosby heirs made ready to +foreclose on father; he held off the Van Rensselaers; he threw the +sop to Billy Livingston and to that great villain, Klock. To-day, +unsecured, his loans to my father, still unpaid, have nigh beggared +him. And the little he has he is about to risk in this war whose +tides are creeping on us through this very night.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>And when he honored me by asking me in marriage, I, knowing all +this, knowing all his goodness and his generosity--though he was +not aware I knew it--I was thankful to say yes--deeming it little +enough to please him--and I not knowing what love meant--"</p> +<p>Her soft voice broke; she laid her hands on her eyes, and stood +so, speaking blindly. "What can I do, cousin? What can I do? Tell +me! I love you. Tell me, use me kindly; teach me to do right and +keep my honor bright as you could desire it were I to be your +wife!"</p> +<p>It was that appeal, I think, that brought me back through the +distorted shadows of my passion; through the dark pit of envy, past +snares of jealousy and malice, and the traps and pitfalls dug by +Satan, safe to the trembling rock of honor once again.</p> +<p>Like a blind man healed by miracle, yet still groping in the +precious light that mazed him, so I peering with aching eyes for +those threads to guide me in my stunned perplexity. But when at +last I felt their touch, I found I held one already--the thread of +hope--and whether for good or evil I did not drop it, but gathered +all together and wove them to a rope to hold by.</p> +<p>"What is it I must swear," I asked, cold to the knees.</p> +<p>"Never again to kiss me."</p> +<p>"Never again."</p> +<p>"Nor to caress me."</p> +<p>"Nor to caress you."</p> +<p>"Nor speak of love."</p> +<p>"Nor speak of love."</p> +<p>"And ... that is all," she faltered.</p> +<p>"No, not all. I swear to love you always, never to forget you, +never to prove unworthy in your eyes, never to wed; living, to +honor you; dying, with your name upon my lips."</p> +<p>She had stretched out her arms towards me as though warning me +to stop; but, as I spoke slowly, weighing each word and its cost, +her hands trembled and sought each other so that she stood looking +at me, fingers interlocked and her sweet face as white as +death.</p> +<p>And after a long time she came to me, and, raising my hands, +kissed them; and I touched her hair with dumb lips; and she stole +away through the starlight like a white ghost returning to its +tomb.</p> +<p>And long after, long, long after, as I stood there, broke on my +wrapt ears the far stroke of horse's hoofs, nearer, nearer, until +the black bulk of the rider rose up in the night and Sir Lupus came +to the porch.</p> +<p>"Eh! What?" he cried. "Sir George away with the Palatine rebels? +Where? Gone to Stanwix? Now Heaven have mercy on him for a madman +who mixes in this devil's brew! And he'll drown me with him, too! +Dammy, they'll say that I'm in with him. But I'm not! Curse me if I +am. I'm neutral--neither rebel nor Tory--and I'll let 'em know it, +too; only desiring quiet and peace and a fair word for all. +Damnation!"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>And so had ended that memorable day and night; and now for two +whole wretched days I had not seen Dorothy, nor heard of her save +through Ruyven, who brought us news that she lay on her bed in the +dark with no desire for company.</p> +<p>"There is a doctor at Johnstown," he said; "but Dorothy refuses, +saying that she is only tired and requires peace and rest. I don't +like it, Cousin George. Never have I seen her ill, nor has any one. +Suppose you look at her, will you?"</p> +<p>"If she will permit me," I said, slowly. "Ask her, Ruyven."</p> +<p>But he returned, shaking his head, and I sat down once more upon +the porch to think of her and of all I loved in her; and how I must +strive to fashion my life so that I do naught that might shame me +should she know.</p> +<p>Now that it was believed that factional bickering between the +inhabitants of Tryon County might lead, in the immediate future, to +something more serious than town brawls and tavern squabbles; and, +more-over, as the Iroquois agitation had already resulted in the +withdrawal to Fort Niagara of the main body of the Mohawk +nation--for what ominous purpose it might be easy to guess--Sir +Lupus forbade the children to go a-roaming outside his own +boundaries.</p> +<p>Further, he had cautioned his servants and tenants not to rove +out of bounds, to avoid public houses like the "Turtle-dove and +Olive," and to refrain from busying themselves about matters in +which they had no concern.</p> +<p>Yet that very day, spite of the patroon's orders, when General +Schuyler's militia-call went out, one-half of his tenantry +disappeared overnight, abandoning everything save their live-stock +and a rough cart heaped with household furniture; journeying with +women and children, goods and chattels, towards the nearest +block-house or fort, there to deposit all except powder-horn, +flint, and rifle, and join the district regiment now laboring with +pick and shovel on the works at Fort Stanwix.</p> +<p>As I sat there on the porch, wretched, restless, debating what +course I should take in the presence of this growing disorder +which, as I have said, had already invaded our own tenantry, came +Sir Lupus a-waddling, pipe in hand, and Cato bearing his huge chair +so he might sit in the sun, which was warm on the porch.</p> +<p>"You've heard what my tenant rascals have done?" he grunted, +settling in his chair and stretching his fat legs.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," I said.</p> +<p>"What d' ye think of it? Eh? What d' ye think?"</p> +<p>"I think it is very pitiful and sad to see these poor creatures +leaving their little farms to face the British regulars--and +starvation."</p> +<p>"Face the devil!" he snorted. "Nobody forces 'em!"</p> +<p>"The greater honor due them," I retorted.</p> +<p>"Honor! Fol-de-rol! Had it been any other patroon but me, he'd +turn his manor-house into a court-house, arrest 'em, try 'em, and +hang a few for luck! In the old days, I'll warrant you, the Cosbys +would have stood no such nonsense--no, nor the Livingstons, nor the +Van Cortlandts. A hundred lashes here and there, a debtor's jail, a +hanging or two, would have made things more cheerful. But I, curse +me if I could ever bring myself to use my simplest prerogatives; I +can't whip a man, no! I can't hang a man for anything--even a +sheep-thief has his chance with me--like that great villain, Billy +Bones, who turned renegade and joined Danny Redstock and the +McCraw."</p> +<p>He snorted in self-contempt and puffed savagely at his clay +pipe.</p> +<p>"La patroon? Dammy, I'm an old woman! Get me my knitting! I want +my knitting and a sunny spot to mumble my gums and wait for noon +and a dish o' porridge!... George, my rents are cut in half, and +half my farms left to the briers and wolves in one day, because his +Majesty, General Schuyler, orders his Highness, Colonel Dayton, to +call out half the militia to make a fort for his Eminence, Colonel +Gansevoort!"</p> +<p>"At Stanwix?"</p> +<p>"They call it Fort Schuyler now--after his Highness in +Albany.</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus," I said, "if it is true that the British mean to +invade us here with Brant's Mohawks, there is but one bulwark +between Tryon County and the enemy, and that is Fort Stanwix. Why, +in Heaven's name, should it not be defended? If this British +officer and his renegades, regulars, and Indians take Stanwix and +fortify Johnstown, the whole country will swarm with savages, +outlaws, and a brutal soldiery already hardened and made callous by +a year of frontier warfare!</p> +<p>"Can you not understand this, sir? Do you think it possible for +these blood-drunk ruffians to roam the Mohawk and Sacandaga valleys +and respect you and yours just because you say you are neutral? +Turn loose a pack of famished panthers in a common pasture and mark +your sheep with your device and see how many are alive at +daybreak!"</p> +<p>"Dammy, sir!" cried Sir Lupus, "the enemy are led by British +gentlemen."</p> +<p>"Who doubtless will keep their own cuffs clean; it were shame to +doubt it! But if the Mohawks march with them there'll be a bloody +page in Tryon County annals."</p> +<p>"The Mohawks will not join!" he said, violently. "Has not +Schuyler held a council-fire and talked with belts to the entire +confederacy?"</p> +<p>"The confederacy returned no belts," I said, "and the Mohawks +were not present."</p> +<p>"Kirkland saw Brant," he persisted, obstinately.</p> +<p>"Yes, and sent a secret report to Albany. If there had been good +news in that report, you Tryon County men had heard it long since, +Sir Lupus."</p> +<p>"With whom have you been talking, sir?" he sneered, removing his +pipe from his yellow teeth.</p> +<p>"With one of your tenants yesterday, a certain Christian Schell, +lately returned with Stoner's scout."</p> +<p>"And what did Stoner's men see in the northwest?" he demanded, +contemptuously.</p> +<p>"They saw half a thousand Mohawks with eyes painted in black +circles and white, Sir Lupus."</p> +<p>"For the planting-dance!" he muttered.</p> +<p>"No, Sir Lupus. The castles are empty, the villages deserted. +There is not one Mohawk left on their ancient lands, there is not +one seed planted, not one foot of soil cultivated, not one +apple-bough grafted, not one fish-line set!</p> +<p>"And you tell me the Mohawks are painted for the planting-dance, +in black and white? With every hatchet shining like silver, and +every knife ground to a razor-edge, and every rifle polished, and +every flint new?"</p> +<p>"Who saw such things?" he asked, hoarsely.</p> +<p>"Christian Schell, of Stoner's scout."</p> +<p>"Now God curse them if they lift an arm to harm a Tryon County +man!" he burst out. "I'll not believe it of the British gentlemen +who differ with us over taxing tea! No, dammy if I'll credit such a +monstrous thing as this alliance!"</p> +<p>"Yet, a few nights since, sir, you heard Walter Butler and Sir +John threaten to use the Mohawks."</p> +<p>"And did not heed them!" he said, angrily. "It is all talk, all +threats, and empty warning. I tell you they dare not for their +names' sakes employ the savages against their own kind--against +friends who think not as they think--against old neighbors, ay, +their own kin!</p> +<p>"Nor dare we. Look at Schuyler--a gentleman, if ever there was +one on this rotten earth--standing, belts in hand, before the +sachems of the confederacy, not soliciting Cayuga support, not +begging Seneca aid, not proposing a foul alliance with the +Onondagas; but demanding right manfully that the confederacy remain +neutral; nay, more, he repulsed offers of warriors from the Oneidas +to scout for him, knowing what that sweet word '<i>scout</i>' +implied--God bless him I ... I have no love for Schuyler.... He +lately called me 'malt-worm,' and, if I'm not at fault, he added, +'skin-flint Dutchman,' or some such tribute to my thrift. But he +has conducted like a man of honor in this Iroquois matter, and I +care not who hears me say it!"</p> +<p>He settled himself in his chair, mumbling in a rumbling voice, +and all I could make out was here and there a curse or two +distributed impartially 'twixt Tory and rebel and other asses now +untethered in the world.</p> +<p>"Well, sir," I said, "from all I can gather, Burgoyne is +marching southward through the lakes, and Clinton is gathering an +army in New York to march north and meet Burgoyne, and now comes +this Barry St. Leger on the flank, aiming to join the others at +Albany after taking Stanwix and Johnstown on the march--three +spears to pierce a common centre, three torches to fire three +valleys, and you neutral Tryon men in the centre, calm, undismayed, +smoking your pipes and singing songs of peace and good-will for all +on earth."</p> +<p>"And why not, sir!" he snapped.</p> +<p>"Did you ever hear of Juggernaut?"</p> +<p>"I've heard the name--a Frenchman, was he not? I think he burned +Schenectady."</p> +<p>"No, sir; he is a heathen god."</p> +<p>"And what the devil, sir, has Tryon County to do with heathen +gods!" he bawled.</p> +<p>"You shall see--when the wheels pass," I said, gloomily.</p> +<p>He folded his fat hands over his stomach and smoked in obstinate +silence. I, too, was silent; again a faint disgust for this man +seized me. How noble and unselfish now appeared the conduct of +those poor tenants of his who had abandoned their little farms to +answer Schuyler's call!--trudging northward with wives and babes, +trusting to God for bread to fall like manna in this wilderness to +save the frail lives of their loved ones, while they faced the +trained troops of Great Britain, and perhaps the Iroquois.</p> +<p>And here he sat, the patroon, sucking his pipe, nursing his +stomach; too cautious, too thrifty to stand like a man, even for +the honor of his own roof-tree! Lord! how mean, how sordid did he +look to me, sulking there, his mottled double-chin crowded out upon +his stock, his bow-legs wide to cradle the huge belly, his small +eyes obstinately a-squint and partly shut, which lent a gross +shrewdness to the expanse of fat, almost baleful, like the eye of a +squid in its shapeless, jellied body!</p> +<p>"What are your plans?" he said, abruptly.</p> +<p>I told him that, through Sir George, I had placed my poor +services at the State's disposal.</p> +<p>"You mean the rebel State's disposal?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"Then you are ready to enlist?"</p> +<p>"Quite ready, Sir Lupus."</p> +<p>"Only awaiting summons from Clinton and Schuyler?" he +sneered.</p> +<p>"That is all, sir."</p> +<p>"And what about your properties in Florida?"</p> +<p>"I can do nothing there. If they confiscate them in my absence, +they might do worse were I to go back and defy them. I believe my +life is worth something to our cause, and it would be only to waste +it foolishly if I returned to fight for a few indigo-vats and +canefields."</p> +<p>"While you can remain here and fight for other people's +hen-coops, eh?"</p> +<p>"No, sir; only to take up the common quarrel and stand for that +liberty which we inherited from those who now seek to dispossess +us."</p> +<p>"Quite an orator!" he observed, grimly. "The Ormonds were +formerly more ready with their swords than with their tongues."</p> +<p>"I trust I shall not fail to sustain their traditions," I said, +controlling my anger with a desperate effort.</p> +<p>He burst out into a hollow laugh.</p> +<p>"There you go, red as a turkey-cock and madder than a singed +tree-cat! George, can't you let me plague you in comfort! Dammy, +it's undutiful! For pity's sake! let me sneer--let me gibe and jeer +if it eases me."</p> +<p>I glared at him, half inclined to laugh.</p> +<p>"Curse it!" he said, wrathfully, "I'm serious. You don't know +how serious I am. It's no laughing matter, George. I must do +something to ease me!" He burst out into a roar, swearing in +volleys.</p> +<p>"D' ye think I wish to appear contemptible?" he shouted. "D' ye +think I like to sit here like an old wife, scolding in one breath +and preaching thrift in the next? A weak-kneed, chicken-livered, +white-bellied old bullfrog that squeaks and jumps, plunk! into the +puddle when a footstep falls in the grass! Am I not a patroon? Am I +not Dutch? Granted I'm fat and slow and a glutton, and lazy as a +wolverine. I can fight like one, too! Don't make any mistake there, +George!"</p> +<p>His broad face flushed crimson, his little, green eyes snapped +fire.</p> +<p>"D' ye think I don't love a fight as well as my neighbor? D' ye +think I've a stomach for insults and flouts and winks and nudges? +Have I a liver to sit doing sums on my thumbs when these impudent +British are kicking my people out of their own doors? Am I of a +kidney to smile and bow, and swallow and digest the orders of Tory +swashbucklers, who lay down a rule of conduct for men who should be +framing rules of common decency for them? D' ye think I'm a snail +or a potato or an empty pair o' breeches? Damnation!"</p> +<p>Rage convulsed him. He recovered his self-command slowly, +smashing his pipe in the interval; and I, astonished beyond +measure, waited for the explanation which he appeared to be +disposed to give.</p> +<p>"If I'm what I am," he said, hoarsely, "an old jack-ass +he-hawing 'Peace! peace! thrift! thrift!' it is because I must and +not because the music pleases me.... And I had not meant to tell +you why--for none other suspects it--but my personal honor is at +stake. I am in debt to a friend, George, and unless I am left in +peace here to collect my tithes and till my fields and run my mills +and ship my pearl-ashes, I can never hope to pay a debt of honor +incurred--and which I mean to pay, if I live, so help me God!</p> +<p>"Lad, if this house, these farms, these acres were my own, do +you think I'd hesitate to polish up that old sword yonder that my +father carried when Schenectady went up in flames?... Know me +better, George!... Know that this condemnation to inaction is the +bitterest trial I have ever known. How easy it would be for me to +throw my own property into one balance, my sword into the other, +and say, 'Defend the one with the other or be robbed!' But I can't +throw another man's lands into the balance. I can't raise the +war-yelp and go careering about after glory when I owe every +shilling I possess and thousands more to an honorable and generous +gentleman who refused all security for the loan save my own word of +honor.</p> +<p>"And now, simple, brave, high-minded as he is, he offers to +return me my word of honor, free me from his debt, and leave me +unshackled to conduct in this coming war as I see fit.</p> +<p>"But that is more than he can do, George. My word once pledged +can only be redeemed by what it stood for, and he is powerless to +give it back.</p> +<p>"That is all, sir.... Pray think more kindly of an old fool in +future, when you plume yourself upon your liberty to draw sword in +the most just cause this world has ever known."</p> +<p>"It is I who am the fool, Sir Lupus," I said, in a low +voice.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XI"></a>XI</h2> +<h3>LIGHTS AND SHADOWS</h3> +<br> +<p>I remember it was the last day of May before I saw my cousin +Dorothy again.</p> +<p>Late that afternoon I had taken a fishing-rod and a book, <i>The +Poems of Pansard</i>, and had set out for the grist-mill on the +stream below the log-bridge; but did not go by road, as the dust +was deep, so instead crossed the meadow and entered the cool +thicket, making a shorter route to the stream.</p> +<p>Through the woodland, as I passed, I saw violets in hollows and +blue innocence starring moist glades with its heavenly color, and +in the drier woods those slender-stemmed blue bell-flowers which +some call the Venus's looking-glass.</p> +<p>In my saddened and rebellious heart a more innocent passion +stirred and awoke--the tender pleasure I have always found in +seeking out those shy people of the forest, the wild blossoms--a +harmless pleasure, for it is ever my habit to leave them +undisturbed upon their stalks.</p> +<p>Deeper in the forest pink moccasin-flowers bloomed among rocks, +and the air was tinctured with a honeyed smell from the spiked +orchis cradled in its sheltering leaf under the hemlock shade.</p> +<p>Once, as I crossed a marshy place, about me floated a violet +perfume, and I was at a loss to find its source until I espied a +single purple blossom of the Arethusa bedded in sturdy thickets of +rose-azalea, faintly spicy, and all humming with the wings of +plundering bees.</p> +<p>Underfoot my shoes brushed through spikenard, and fell silently +on carpets of moss-pinks, and once I saw a matted bed of late +Mayflower, and the forest dusk grew sweeter and sweeter, saturating +all the woodland, until each breath I drew seemed to +intoxicate.</p> +<p>Spring languor was in earth and sky, and in my bones, too; yet, +through this Northern forest ever and anon came faint reminders of +receding snows, melting beyond the Canadas--delicate zephyrs, +tinctured with the far scent of frost, flavoring the sun's balm at +moments with a sharper essence.</p> +<p>Now traversing a ferny space edged in with sweetbrier, a breeze +accompanied me, caressing neck and hair, stirring a sudden warmth +upon my cheek like a breathless maid close beside me, +whispering.</p> +<p>Then through the rustle of leafy depths I heard the stream's +laughter, very far away, and I turned to the left across the moss, +walking more swiftly till I came to the log-bridge where the road +crosses. Below me leaped the stream, deep in its ravine of slate, +roaring over the dam above the rocky gorge only to flow out again +between the ledge and the stone foundations of the grist-mill +opposite. Down into the ravine and under the dam I climbed, using +the mossy steps that nature had cut in the slate, and found a rock +to sit on where the spray from the dam could not drench me. And +here I baited my hook and cast out, so that the swirling water +might carry my lure under the mill's foundations, where Ruyven said +big, dusky trout most often lurked.</p> +<p>But I am no fisherman, and it gives me no pleasure to drag a +finny creature from its element and see its poor mouth gasp and its +eyes glaze and the fiery dots on its quivering sides grow dimmer. +So when a sly trout snatched off my bait I was in no mood to cover +my hook again, but set the rod on the rocks and let the bright +current waft my line as it would, harmless now as the dusty alder +leaves dimpling yonder ripple. So I opened my book, idly attentive, +reading <i>The Poems of Pansard</i>, while dappled shadows of +clustered maple leaves moved on the page, and droning bees set old +Pansard's lines to music.</p> +<blockquote>"Like two sweet skylarks springing skyward, +singing,<br> + Piercing the empyrean of blinding light,<br> +So shall our souls take flight, serenely winging,<br> + Soaring on azure heights to God's delight;<br> +While from below through sombre deeps come stealing<br> +The floating notes of earthward church-bells pealing."</blockquote> +<p>My thoughts wandered and the yellow page faded to a glimmer amid +pale spots of sunshine waning when some slow cloud drifted across +the sun. Again my eyes returned to the printed page, and again +thought parted from its moorings, a derelict upon the tide of +memory. Far in the forest I heard the white-throat's call with the +endless, sad refrain, "Weep-wee-p! Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy!" +Though some vow that the little bird sings plainly, "Sweet-sw-eet! +Canada, Canada, Canada!"</p> +<p>Then for a while I closed my eyes until, slowly, that awakening +sense that somebody was looking at me came over me, and I raised my +head.</p> +<p>Dorothy stood on the log-bridge above the dam, elbows on the +rail, gazing pensively at me.</p> +<p>"Well, of all idle men!" she said, steadying her voice +perceptibly. "Shall I come down?"</p> +<p>And without waiting for a reply she walked around to the south +end of the bridge and began to descend the ravine.</p> +<p>I offered assistance; she ignored it and picked her own way down +the cleft to the stream-side.</p> +<p>"It seems a thousand years since I have seen you," she said. +"What have you been doing all this while? What are you doing now? +Reading? Oh! fishing! And can you catch nothing, silly?... Give me +that rod.... No, I don't want it, after all; let the trout swim in +peace.... How pale you have grown, cousin!"</p> +<p>"You also, Dorothy," I said.</p> +<p>"Oh, I know that; there's a glass in my room, thank you.... I +thought I'd come down.... There is company at the house--some of +Colonel Gansevoort's officers, Third Regiment of the New York line, +if you please, and two impudent young ensigns of the Half-moon +Regiment, all on their way to Stanwix fort."</p> +<p>She seated herself on the deep moss and balanced her back +against a silver-birch tree.</p> +<p>"They're at the house, all these men," she said; "and what do +you think? General Schuyler and his lady are to arrive this +evening, and I'm to receive them, dressed in my best tucker!... and +there may be others with them, though the General comes on a tour +of inspection, being anxious lest disorder break out in this +district if he is compelled to abandon Ticonderoga.... What do you +think of that--George?"</p> +<p>My name fell so sweetly, so confidently, from her lips that I +looked up in warm pleasure and found her grave eyes searching +mine.</p> +<p>"Make it easier for me," she said, in a low voice. "How can I +talk to you if you do not answer me?"</p> +<p>"I--I mean to answer, Dorothy," I stammered; "I am very thankful +for your kindness to me."</p> +<p>"Do you think it is hard to be kind to you?" she murmured. "What +happiness if I only might be kind!" She hid her face in her hands +and bowed her head. "Pay no heed to me," she said; "I--I thought I +could see you and control this rebel tongue of mine. And here am I +with heart insurgent beating the long roll and every nerve a-quiver +with sedition!"</p> +<p>"What are you saying?" I protested, miserably.</p> +<p>She dropped her hands from her face and gazed at me quite +calmly.</p> +<p>"Saying? I was saying that these rocks are wet, and that I was +silly to come down here in my Pompadour shoes and stockings, and +I'm silly to stay here, and I'm going!"</p> +<p>And go she did, up over the moss and rock like a fawn, and I +after her to the top of the bank, where she seemed vastly surprised +to see me.</p> +<p>"Now I pray you choose which way you mean to stroll," she said, +impatiently. "Here lie two paths, and I will take this straight and +narrow one."</p> +<p>She turned sharply and I with her, and for a long time we walked +swiftly, side by side, exchanging neither word nor glance until at +last she stopped short, seated herself on a mossy log, and touched +her hot face with a crumpled bit of lace and cambric.</p> +<p>"I tell you what, Mr. Longshanks!" she said. "I shall go no +farther with you unless you talk to me. Mercy on the lad with his +seven-league boots! He has me breathless and both hat-strings +flying and my shoe-points dragging to trip my heels! Sit down, sir, +till I knot my ribbons under my ear; and I'll thank you to tie my +shoe-points! Not doubled in a sailor's-knot, silly!... And, oh, +cousin, I would I had a sun-mask!... Now you are laughing! Oh, I +know you think me a country hoyden, careless of sunburn and dust! +But I'm not. I love a smooth, white skin as well as any London beau +who praises it in verses. And I shall have one for myself, too. You +may see, to-night, if the Misses Carmichael come with Lady +Schuyler, for we'll have a dance, perhaps, and I mean to paint and +patch and powder till you'd swear me a French marquise!... Cousin, +this narrow forest pathway leads across the water back to the +house. Shall we take it?... You will have to carry me over the +stream, for I'll not wet my shins for love of any man, mark +that!"</p> +<p>She tied her pink hat-ribbons under her chin and stood up while +I made ready; then I lifted her from the ground. Very gravely she +dropped her arms around my neck as I stepped into the rushing +current and waded out, the water curling almost to my knee-buckles. +So we crossed the grist-mill stream in silence, eyes averted from +each other's faces; and in silence, too, we resumed the straight +and narrow path, now deep with last year's leaves, until we came to +a hot, sandy bank covered with wild strawberries, overlooking the +stream.</p> +<p>In a moment she was on her knees, filling her handkerchief with +strawberries, and I sat down in the yellow sand, eyes following the +stream where it sparkled deep under its leafy screen below.</p> +<p>"Cousin," she said, timidly, "are you displeased?"</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"At my tyranny to make you bear me across the stream--with all +your heavier burdens, and my own--"</p> +<p>"I ask no sweeter burdens," I replied.</p> +<p>She seated herself in the sand and placed a scarlet berry +between lips that matched it.</p> +<p>"I have tried very hard to talk to you," she said.</p> +<p>"I don't know what to say, Dorothy," I muttered. "Truly I do +desire to amuse you and make you laugh--as once I did. But the +heart of everything seems dead. There! I did not mean that! Don't +hide your face, Dorothy! Don't look like that! I--I cannot bear it. +And listen, cousin; we are to be quite happy. I have thought it all +out, and I mean to be gay and amuse you.... Won't you look at me, +Dorothy?" "Wh--why?" she asked, unsteadily.</p> +<p>"Just to see how happy I am--just to see that I pull no long +faces--idiot that I was!... Dorothy, will you smile just once?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she whispered, lifting her head and raising her wet +lashes. Presently her lips parted in one of her adorable smiles. +"Now that you have made me weep till my nose is red you may pick me +every strawberry in sight," she said, winking away the bright +tears. "You have heard of the penance of the Algonquin witch?"</p> +<p>I knew nothing of Northern Indian lore, and I said so.</p> +<p>"What? You never heard of the Stonish Giants? You never heard of +the Flying Head? Mercy on the boy! Sit here and we'll eat +strawberries and I shall tell you tales of the Long House.... Sit +nearer, for I shall speak in a low voice lest old Atotarho awake +from his long sleep and the dead pines ring hollow, like +witch-drums under the yellow-hammer's double blows.... Are you +afraid?"</p> +<p>"All a-shiver," I whispered, gayly.</p> +<p>"Then listen," she breathed, raising one pink-tipped finger. +"This is the tale of the Eight Thunders, told in the oldest tongue +of the confederacy and to all ensigns of the three clans ere the +Erians sued for peace. Therefore it is true.</p> +<p>"Long ago, the Holder of the Heavens made a very poisonous blue +otter, and the Mohawks killed it and threw its body into the lake. +And the Holder of Heaven came to the eastern door of the Long House +and knocked, saying: 'Where is the very poisonous blue otter that I +made, O Keepers of the Eastern Door?'</p> +<p>"'Who calls?' asked the Mohawks, peeping out to see.</p> +<p>"Then the Holder of the Heavens named himself, and the Mohawks +were afraid and hid in the Long House, listening.</p> +<p>"'Be afraid! O you wise men and sachems! The wisdom of a child +alone can save you!' said the Holder of the Heavens. Saying this he +wrapped himself in a bright cloud and went like a swift arrow to +the sun."</p> +<p>My cousin's voice had fallen into a low, melodious sing-song; +her rapt eyes were fixed on me.</p> +<p>"A youth of the Mohawks loved a maid, and they sat by the lake +at night, counting the Dancers in the sky--which we call stars of +the Pleiades.</p> +<p>"'One has fallen into the lake,' said the youth.</p> +<p>"'It is the eye of the very poisonous blue otter,' replied the +maid, beginning to cry.</p> +<p>"'I see the lost Dancer shining down under the water,' said the +youth again. Then he bade the maid go back and wait for him; and +she went back and built a fire and sat sadly beside it. Then she +heard some one coming and turned around. A young man stood there +dressed in white, and with white feathers on his head. 'You are +sad,' he said to the maid, 'but we will help you.' Then he gave her +a belt of purple wampum to show that he spoke the truth.</p> +<p>"'Follow,' he said; and she followed to a place in the forest +where smoke rose. There she saw a fire, and, around it, eight +chiefs sitting, with white feathers on their heads.</p> +<p>"'These chiefs are the Eight Thunders,' she thought; 'now they +will help me.' And she said: 'A Dancer has fallen out of the sky +and a Mohawk youth has plunged for it.'</p> +<p>"'The blue otter has turned into a serpent, and the Mohawk youth +beheld her eye under the waters,' they said, one after the other. +The maid wept and laid the wampum at her feet. Then she rubbed +ashes on her lips and on her breasts and in the palms of her +hands.</p> +<p>"'The Mohawk youth has wedded the Lake Serpent,' they said, one +after the other. The maid wept; and she rubbed ashes on her thighs +and on her feet.</p> +<p>"'Listen,' they said, one after another; 'take strawberries and +go to the lake. You will know what to do. When that is done we will +come in the form of a cloud on the lake, not in the sky.'</p> +<p>"So she found strawberries in the starlight and went to the +lake, calling, 'Friend! Friend! I am going away and wish to see +you!'</p> +<p>"Out on the lake the water began to boil, and coming out of it +she saw her friend. He had a spot on his forehead and looked like a +serpent, and yet like a man. Then she spread the berries on the +shore and he came to the land and ate. Then he went back to the +shore and placed his lips to the water, drinking. And the maid saw +him going down through the water like a snake. So she cried, +'Friends! Friends! I am going away and wish to see you!'</p> +<p>"The lake boiled and her friend came out of it. The lake boiled +once more; not in one spot alone, but all over, like a high sea +spouting on a reef.</p> +<p>"Out of the water came her friend's wife, beautiful to behold +and shining with silver scales. Her long hair fell all around her, +and seemed like silver and gold. When she came ashore she stretched +out on the sand and took a strawberry between her lips. The young +maid watched the lake until she saw something moving on the waters +a great way off, which seemed like a cloud.</p> +<p>"In a moment the stars went out and it grew dark, and it +thundered till the skies fell down, torn into rain by the terrible +lightning. All was still at last, and it grew lighter. The maid +opened her eyes to find herself in the arms of her friend. But at +their feet lay the dying sparks of a shattered star.</p> +<p>"Then as they went back through the woods the eight chiefs +passed them in Indian file, and they saw them rising higher and +higher, till they went up to the sky like mists at sunrise."</p> +<p>Dorothy's voice died away; she stretched out one arm.</p> +<a name="355.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/355.jpg"><img src="images/355.jpg" +width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"THIS IS THE END, O YOU WISE MEN AND SACHEMS!".</b></p> +<p>"This is the end, O you wise men and sachems, told since the +beginning to us People of the Morning. Hiro [I have spoken]!"</p> +<p>Then a startling thing occurred; up from the underbrush behind +us rose a tall Indian warrior, naked to the waist, painted from +belt to brow with terrific, nameless emblems and signs. I sprang to +my feet, horror-struck; the savage folded his arms, quietly +smiling; and I saw knife and hatchet resting in his belt and a long +rifle on the moss at his feet.</p> +<p>"Kôue! That was a true tale," he said, in good English. +"It is a miracle that one among you sings the truth concerning us +poor Mohawks."</p> +<p>"Do you come in peace?" I asked, almost stunned.</p> +<p>He made a gesture. "Had I come otherwise, you had known it!" He +looked straight at Dorothy. "You are the patroon's daughter. Does +he speak as truthfully of the Mohawks as do you?"</p> +<p>"Who are you?" I asked, slowly.</p> +<p>He smiled again. "My name is Brant," he said.</p> +<p>"Joseph Brant! Thayendanegea!" murmured Dorothy, aloud.</p> +<p>"A cousin of his," said the savage, carelessly. Then he turned +sternly on me. "Tell that man who follows me that I could have +slain him twice within the hour; once at the ford, once on Stoner's +hill. Does he take me for a deer? Does he believe I wear war-paint? +There is no war betwixt the Mohawks and the Boston +people--<i>yet</i>! Tell that fool to go home!"</p> +<p>"What fool?" I asked, troubled.</p> +<p>"You will meet him--journeying the wrong way," said the Indian, +grimly.</p> +<p>With a quick, guarded motion he picked up his rifle, turned +short, and passed swiftly northward straight into the forest, +leaving us listening there together long after he had +disappeared.</p> +<p>"That chief was Joseph Brant, ... but he wore no war-paint," +whispered my cousin. "He was painted for the secret rites of the +False-Faces."</p> +<p>"He could have slain us as we sat," I said, bitterly +humiliated.</p> +<p>She looked up at me thoughtfully; there was not in her face the +slightest trace of the deep emotions which had shocked me.</p> +<p>"A tribal fire is lighted somewhere," she mused. "Chiefs like +Brant do not travel alone--unless--unless he came to consult that +witch Catrine Montour, or to guide her to some national +council-fire in the North."</p> +<p>She pondered awhile, and I stood by in silence, my heart still +beating heavily from my astonishment at the hideous apparition of a +moment since.</p> +<p>"Do you know," she said, "that I believe Brant spoke the truth. +There is no war yet, as far as concerns the Mohawks. The smoke we +saw was a secret signal; that hag was scuttling around to collect +the False-Faces for a council. They may mean war; I'm sure they +mean it, though Brant wore no war-paint. But war has not yet been +declared; it is no scant ceremony when a nation of the Iroquois +decides on war. And if the confederacy declares war the ceremonies +may last a fortnight. The False-Faces must be heard from first. +And, Heaven help us! I believe their fires are lighted now."</p> +<p>"What ghastly manner of folk are these False-Faces?" I +asked.</p> +<p>"A secret clan, common to all Northern and Western Indians, +celebrating secret rites among the six nations of the Iroquois. +Some say the spectacle is worse than the orgies of the +Dream-feast--a frightful sight, truly hellish; and yet others say +the False-Faces do no harm, but make merry in secret places. But +this I know; if the False-Faces are to decide for war or peace, +they will sway the entire confederacy, and perhaps every Indian in +North America; for though nobody knows who belongs to the secret +sect, two-thirds of the Mohawks are said to be numbered in its +ranks; and as go the Mohawks, so goes the confederacy."</p> +<p>"How is it you know all this?" I asked, amazed.</p> +<p>"My playmate was Magdalen Brant," she said. "Her playmates were +pure Mohawk."</p> +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that this painted savage is kin to that +lovely girl who came with Sir John and the Butlers?" I +demanded.</p> +<p>"They are related. And, cousin, this 'painted savage' is no +savage if the arts of civilization which he learned at Dr. +Wheelock's school count for anything. He was secretary to old Sir +William. He is an educated man, spite of his naked body and paint, +and the more to be dreaded, it appears to me.... Hark! See those +branches moving beside the trail! There is a man yonder. Follow +me."</p> +<p>On the sandy bank our shoes made little sound, yet the unseen +man heard us and threw up a glittering rifle, calling out: "Halt! +or I fire."</p> +<p>Dorothy stopped short, and her hand fell on my arm, pressing it +significantly. Out into the middle of the trail stepped a tall +fellow clad from throat to ankle in deer-skin. On his curly head +rested a little, round cap of silvery mole-skin, light as a +feather; his leggings' fringe was dyed green; baldrick, +knife-sheath, bullet-pouch, powder-horn, and hatchet-holster were +deeply beaded in scarlet, white, and black, and bands of purple +porcupine-quills edged shoulder-cape and moccasins, around which +were painted orange-colored flowers, each centred with a golden +bead.</p> +<p>"A forest-runner," she motioned with her lips, "and, if I'm not +blind, he should answer to the name of Mount--and many crimes, they +say."</p> +<p>The forest-runner stood alert, rifle resting easily in the +hollow of his left arm.</p> +<p>"Who passes?" he called out.</p> +<p>"White folk," replied Dorothy, laughing. Then we stepped +out.</p> +<p>"Well, well," said the forest-runner, lifting his mole-skin cap +with a grin; "if this is not the pleasantest sight that has soothed +my eyes since we hung that Tory whelp last Friday--and no +disrespect to Mistress Varick, whose father is more patriot than +many another I might name!"</p> +<p>"I bid you good-even, Jack Mount," said Dorothy, smiling.</p> +<p>"To you, Mistress Varick," he said, bowing the deeper; then +glanced keenly at me and recognized me at the same moment. "Has my +prophecy come true, sir?" he asked, instantly.</p> +<p>"God save our country," I said, significantly.</p> +<p>"Then I was right!" he said, and flushed with pleasure when I +offered him my hand.</p> +<p>"If I am not too free," he muttered, taking my hand in his +great, hard paw, almost affectionately.</p> +<p>"You may walk with us if you journey our way," said Dorothy; and +the great fellow shuffled up beside her, cap in hand, and it amused +me to see him strive to shorten his strides to hers, so that he +presently fell into a strange gait, half-skip, half-toddle.</p> +<p>"Pray cover yourself," said Dorothy, encouragingly, and Mount +did so, dumb as a Matanzas oyster and crimson as a boiled sea-crab. +Then, doubtless, deeming that gentility required some polite +observation, he spoke in a high-pitched voice of the balmy weather +and the sweet profusion of birds and flowers, when there was more +like to be a "sweet profusion" of Indians; and I nigh stifled with +laughter to see this lumbering, free-voiced forest-runner +transformed to a mincing, anxious, backwoods macaroni at the smile +of a pretty woman.</p> +<p>"Do you bring no other news save of the birds and blossoms?" +asked Dorothy, mischievously. "Tell us what we all are fearful of. +Have the Senecas and Cayugas risen to join the British?"</p> +<p>Mount stole a glance at me.</p> +<p>"I wish I knew," he muttered.</p> +<p>"We will know soon, now," I said, soberly.</p> +<p>"Sooner, perhaps, than you expect, sir," he said. "I am summoned +to the manor to confer with General Schuyler on this very matter of +the Iroquois."</p> +<p>"Is it true that the Mohawks are in their war-paint?" asked +Dorothy, maliciously.</p> +<p>"Stoner and Timothy Murphy say so," replied Mount. "Sir John and +the Butlers are busy with the Onondagas and Oneidas; Dominic +Kirkland is doing his best to keep them peaceable; and our General +played his last cards at their national council. We can only wait +and see, Mistress Varick."</p> +<p>He hesitated, glancing at me askance.</p> +<p>"The fact is," he said, "I've been sniffing at moccasin tracks +for the last hour, up hill, down dale, over the ford, where I lost +them, then circled and picked them up again on the moss a mile +below the bridge. If I read them right, they were Mohawk tracks and +made within the hour, and how that skulking brute got away from me +I cannot think."</p> +<p>He looked at us in an injured manner, for we were striving not +to smile.</p> +<p>"I'm counted a good tracker," he muttered. "I'm as good as +Walter Butler or Tim Murphy, and my friend, the Weasel, now with +Morgan's riflemen, is no keener forest-runner than am I. Oh, I do +not mean to brag, or say I can match my cunning against such a +human bloodhound as Joseph Brant."</p> +<p>He paused, in hurt surprise, for we were laughing. And then I +told him of the Indian and what message he had sent by us, and +Mount listened, red as a pippin, gnawing his lip.</p> +<p>"I am glad to know it," he said. "This will be evil news to +General Schuyler, I have no doubt. Lord! but it makes me mad to +think how close to Brant I stood and could not drill his painted +hide!"</p> +<p>"He spared you," I said.</p> +<p>"That is his affair," muttered Mount, striding on angrily.</p> +<p>"There speaks the obstinate white man, who can see no good in +any savage," whispered Dorothy. "Nothing an Indian does is right or +generous; these forest-runners hate them, distrust them, fear +them--though they may deny it--and kill all they can. And you may +argue all day with an Indian-hater and have your trouble to pay +you. Yet I have heard that this man Mount is brave and generous to +enemies of his own color."</p> +<p>We had now come to the road in front of the house, and Mount set +his cap rakishly on his head, straightened cape and baldrick, and +ran his fingers through the gorgeous thrums rippling from sleeve +and thigh.</p> +<p>"I'd barter a month's pay for a pot o' beer," he said to me. "I +learned to drink serving with Cresap's riflemen at the siege of +Boston; a godless company, sir, for an innocent man to fall among. +But Morgan's rifles are worse, Mr. Ormond; they drink no water save +when it rains in their gin toddy."</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus says you tried to join them," said Dorothy, to plague +him.</p> +<p>"So I did, Mistress Varick, so I did," he stammered; "to break +'em o' their habits, ma'am. Trust me, if I had that corps I'd teach +'em to let spirits alone if I had to drink every drop in camp to +keep 'em sober!"</p> +<p>"There's beer in the buttery," she said, laughing; "and if you +smile at Tulip she'll see you starve not."</p> +<p>"Nobody," said I, "goes thirsty or hungry at Varick Manor."</p> +<p>"Indeed, no," said Dorothy, much amused, as old Cato came down +the path, hat in hand. "Here, Cato! do you take Captain Mount and +see that he is comfortable and that he lacks nothing."</p> +<p>So, standing together in the stockade gateway, we watched Cato +conducting Mount towards the quarters behind the guard-house, then +walked on to meet the children, who came dancing down the driveway +to greet us.</p> +<p>"Dorothy! Dorothy!" cried Cecile, "we've shaved candles and +waxed the library floors. Lady Schuyler is here and the General and +the Carmichael girls we knew at school, and their cousin, Maddaleen +Dirck, and Christie McDonald and Marguerite Haldimand--cousin to +the Tory general in Canada--and--"</p> +<p>"I'm to walk a minuet with Madge Haldimand!" broke in Ruyven; +"will you lend me your gold stock-buckle, Cousin Ormond?"</p> +<p>"I mean to dance, too," cried Harry, crowding up to pluck my +sleeve. "Please, Cousin Ormond, lend me a lace handkerchief."</p> +<p>"Paltz Clavarack, of the Half-moon Regiment, asked me to walk a +minuet," observed Cecile, tossing her head. "I'm sure I don't know +what to say. He's so persistent."</p> +<p>Benny's clamor broke out: "Thammy thtole papath betht +thnuff-boxth! Thammy thtole papath betht thnuff-boxth!"</p> +<p>"Sammy!" cried Dorothy, "what did you steal your father's best +snuff-box for?"</p> +<p>"I only desired to offer snuff to General Schuyler," said Sammy, +sullenly, amid a roar of laughter.</p> +<p>"We're to dine at eight! Everybody is dressing; come on, +Dorothy!" cried Cecile. "Mr. Clavarack vowed he'd perish if I kept +him waiting--"</p> +<p>"You should see the escort!" said Ruyven to me. "Dragoons, +cousin, in leather helmets and jack-boots, and all wearing new +sabres taken from the Hessian cavalry. They're in the quarters with +Tim Murphy, of Morgan's, and, Lord! how thirsty they appear to +be!"</p> +<p>"There's the handsomest man I ever saw," murmured Cecile to +Dorothy, "Captain O'Neil, of the New York line. He's dying to see +you; he said so to Mr. Clavarack, and I heard him."</p> +<p>Dorothy looked up with heightened color.</p> +<p>"Will you walk the minuet with me, Dorothy?" I whispered.</p> +<p>She looked down, faintly smiling:</p> +<p>"Perhaps," she said.</p> +<p>"That is no answer," I retorted, surprised and hurt.</p> +<p>"I know it," she said, demurely.</p> +<p>"Then answer me, Dorothy!"</p> +<p>She looked at me so gravely that I could not be certain whether +it was pretence or earnest.</p> +<p>"I am hostess," she said; "I belong to my guests. If my duties +prevent my walking the minuet with you, I shall find a suitable +partner for you, cousin."</p> +<p>"And no doubt for yourself," I retorted, irritated to +rudeness.</p> +<p>Surprise and disdain were in her eyes. Her raised brows and cool +smile boded me no good.</p> +<p>"I thought I was free to choose," she said, serenely.</p> +<p>"You are, and so am I," I said. "Will you have me for the +minuet?"</p> +<p>We paused in the hallway, facing each other.</p> +<p>She gave me a dangerous glance, biting her lip in silence.</p> +<p>And, the devil possessing me, I said, "For the last time, will +you take me?"</p> +<p>"No!" she said, under her breath. "You have your answer +now."</p> +<p>"I have my answer," I repeated, setting my teeth.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XII"></a>XII</h2> +<h3>THE GHOST-RING</h3> +<br> +<p>I had bathed and dressed me in my best suit of pale-lilac silk, +with flapped waistcoat of primrose stiff with gold, and Cato was +powdering my hair; when Sir Lupus waddled in, magnificent in +scarlet and white, and smelling to heaven of French perfume and +pomatum.</p> +<p>"George!" he cried, in his brusque, explosive fashion, "I like +Schuyler, and I care not who knows it! Dammy! I was cool enough +with him and his lady when they arrived, but he played Valentine to +my Orson till I gave up; yes, I did, George, I capitulated. Says +he, 'Sir Lupus, if a painful misunderstanding has kept us old +neighbors from an exchange of civilities, I trust differences may +be forgotten in this graver crisis. In our social stratum there is +but one great line of cleavage now, opened by the convulsions of +war, sir."</p> +<p>"'Damn the convulsions of war, sir!' says I.</p> +<p>"'Quite right,' says he, mildly; 'war is always damnable, Sir +Lupus.'</p> +<p>"'General Schuyler,' says I, 'there is no nonsense about me. You +and Lady Schuyler are under my roof, and you are welcome, whatever +opinion you entertain of me and my fashion of living. I understand +perfectly that this visit is not a visit of ceremony from a +neighbor, but a military necessity.'</p> +<p>"'Sir Lupus,' says Lady Schuyler, 'had it been only a military +necessity I should scarcely have accompanied the General and his +guests.'</p> +<p>"'Madam,' says I, 'it is commonly reported that I offended the +entire aristocracy of Albany when I had Sir John Johnson's +sweetheart to dine with them. And for that I have been ostracized. +For which ostracism, madam, I care not a brass farthing. And, +madam, were I to dine all Albany to-night, I should not ignore my +old neighbors and friends, the Putnams of Tribes Hill, to suit the +hypocrisy of a few strangers from Albany. Right is right, madam, +and decency is decency! And I say now that to honest men Claire +Putnam is Sir John's wife by every law of honor, decency, and +chivalry; and I shall so treat her in the face of a rotten world +and to the undying shame of that beast, Sir John!'</p> +<p>"Whereupon--would you believe it, George?--Schuyler took both my +hands in his and said my conduct honored me, and more of the same +sort o' thing, and Lady Schuyler gave me her hand in that sweet, +stately fashion; and, dammy! I saluted her finger-tips. Heaven +knows how I found it possible to bend my waist, but I did, George. +And there's an end to the whole matter!"</p> +<p>He took snuff, blew his nose violently, snapped his gold +snuff-box, and waddled to the window, where, below, in the early +dusk, torches and rush-lights burned, illuminating the cavalry +horses tethered along their picket-rope, and the trooper on guard, +pacing his beat, musket shining in the wavering light.</p> +<p>"That escort will be my undoing," he muttered. "Folk will dub me +a partisan now. Dammy! a man under my roof is a guest, be he Tory +or rebel. I do but desire to cultivate my land and pay my debts of +honor; and I'll stick to it till they leave me in peace or hang me +to my barn door!"</p> +<p>And he toddled out, muttering and fumbling with his snuff-box, +bidding me hasten and not keep them waiting dinner.</p> +<p>I stood before the mirror with its lighted sconces, gazing +grimly at my sober face while Cato tied my queue-ribbon and dusted +my silken coat-skirts. Then I fastened the brilliant buckle under +my chin, shook out the deep, soft lace at throat and wristband, and +took my small-sword from Cato.</p> +<p>"Mars' George," murmured the old man, "yo' look lak yo' is gwine +wed wif mah li'l Miss Dorry."</p> +<p>I stared at him angrily. "What put that into your head?" I +demanded.</p> +<p>"I dunno, suh; hit dess look dat-a-way to me, suh."</p> +<p>"You're a fool," I said, sharply.</p> +<p>"No, suh, I ain' no fool, Mars' George. I done see de sign! +Yaas, suh, I done see de sign."</p> +<p>"What sign?"</p> +<p>The old man chuckled, looked slyly at my left hand, then +chuckled again.</p> +<p>"Mars' George, yo' is wearin' yo' weddin'-ring now!"</p> +<p>"A ring! There is no ring on my hand, you rascal!" I said.</p> +<p>"Yaas, suh; dey sho' is, Mars' George," he insisted, still +chuckling.</p> +<p>"I tell you I never wear a ring," I said, impatiently.</p> +<p>"'Scuse me, Mars' George, suh," he said, humbly. And, lifting my +left hand, laid it in his wrinkled, black palm, peering closely. I +also looked, and saw at the base of my third finger a circle like +the mark left by a wedding-ring.</p> +<p>"That is strange," I said; "I never wore a ring in all my +life!"</p> +<p>"Das de sign, suh," muttered the old man; "das de Ormond sign, +suh. Yo' pap wore de ghos'-ring, an' his pap wore it too, suh. All +de Ormonds done wore de ghos'-ring fore dey wus wedded. Hit am dess +dat-a-way. Mars' George--"</p> +<p>He hesitated, looking up at me with gentle, dim eyes.</p> +<p>"Miss Dorry, suh--"</p> +<p>He stopped short, then dropped his voice to a whisper.</p> +<p>"'Fore Miss Dorry git up outen de baid, suh, I done tote de +bre'kfus in de mawnin'. An' de fustest word dat li'l Miss Dorry +say, 'Cato,' she say, 'whar Mars' George?' she say. 'He 'roun' de +yahd, Miss Dorry,' I say. ''Pears lak he gettin' mo' res'less an' +mis'ble, Miss Dorry.'</p> +<p>"'Cato,' she 'low, 'I spec' ma' haid gwine ache if I lie hyah in +dishyere baid mo'n two free day. Whar ma' milk an' co'n pone, +Cato?'</p> +<p>"So I des sot de salver down side de baid, suh, an' li'l Miss +Dorry she done set up in de baid, suh, an' hole out one li'l bare +arm--"</p> +<p>He laid a wrinkled finger on his lips; his dark face quivered +with mystery and emotion.</p> +<p>"One li'l bare <i>arm</i>," he repeated, "an' I see de +sign!"</p> +<p>"What sign?" I stammered.</p> +<p>"De bride-sign on de ring-finger! Yaas, suh. An' I say, 'Whar +yo' ring, Miss Dorry?' An' she 'low ain' nebber wore no ring. An' I +say, 'Whar dat ring, Miss Dorry?'</p> +<p>"Den Miss Dorry look kinder queer, and rub de ghos'-ring on de +bridal-finger.</p> +<p>"'What dat?' she 'low.</p> +<p>"'Dasser ghos'-ring, honey.'</p> +<p>"Den she rub an' rub, but, bless yo' heart, Mars' George! she +dess natch'ly gwine wear dat pink ghos'-ring twill yo' slip de +bride-ring on.... Mars' George! Honey! What de matter, chile?... Is +you a-weepin', Mars' George?"</p> +<p>"Oh, Cato, Cato!" I choked, dropping my head on his +shoulder.</p> +<p>"What dey do to mah l'il Mars' George?" he said, soothingly. +"'Spec' some one done git saucy! Huh! Who care? Dar de sign! Dar de +ghos'-ring! Mars' George, yo' is dess boun' to wed, suh! Miss +Dorry, she dess boun' to wed, too--"</p> +<p>"But not with me, Cato, not with me. There's another man coming +for Miss Dorry, Cato. She has promised him."</p> +<p>"Who dat?" he cried. "How come dishyere ghost-ring roun' yo' +weddin'-finger?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," I said; "the chance pressure of a riding-glove, +perhaps. It will fade away, Cato, this ghost-ring, as you call +it.... Give me that rag o' lace; ... dust the powder away, Cato.... +There, I'm smiling; can't you see, you rascal?... And tell Tulip +she is right."</p> +<p>"What dat foolish wench done tole you?" he exclaimed, +wrathfully.</p> +<p>But I only shook my head impatiently and walked out. Down the +hallway I halted in the light of the sconces and looked at the +strange mark on my finger. It was plainly visible. "A tight glove," +I muttered, and walked on towards the stairs.</p> +<p>From the floor below came a breezy buzz of voices, laughter, the +snap of ivory fans spreading, the whisk and rustle of petticoats. I +leaned a moment over the rail which circled the stair-gallery and +looked down.</p> +<p>Unaccustomed cleanliness and wax and candle-light made a pretty +background for all this powdered and silken company swarming below. +The servants and children had gathered ground-pine to festoon the +walls; stair-rail, bronze cannon, pictures, trophies, and windows +were all bright with the aromatic green foliage; enormous bunches +of peonies perfumed the house, and everywhere masses of yellow and +white elder-bloom and swamp-marigold brightened the corners.</p> +<p>Sir Lupus, standing in the hallway with a tall gentleman who +wore the epaulets and the buff-and-blue uniform of a major-general, +beckoned me, and I descended the stairs to make the acquaintance of +that noblest and most generous of soldiers, Philip Schuyler. He +held my hand a moment, scrutinizing me with kindly eyes, and, +turning to Sir Lupus, said, "There are few men to whom my heart +surrenders at sight, but your young kinsman is one of the few, Sir +Lupus."</p> +<p>"He's a good boy, General, a brave lad," mumbled Sir Lupus, +frowning to hide his pride. "A bit quick at conclusions, +perhaps--eh, George?"</p> +<p>"Too quick, sir," I said, coloring.</p> +<p>"A fault you have already repaired by confession," said the +General, with his kindly smile. "Mr. Ormond, I had the pleasure of +receiving Sir George Covert the day he left for Stanwix, and Sir +George mentioned your desire for a commission."</p> +<p>"I do desire it, sir," I said, quickly.</p> +<p>"Have you served, Mr. Ormond?" he asked, gravely.</p> +<p>"I have seen some trifling service against the Florida savages, +sir."</p> +<p>"As officer, of course."</p> +<p>"As officer of our rangers, General."</p> +<p>"You were never wounded?"</p> +<p>"No, sir; ... not severely."</p> +<p>"Oh!... not severely."</p> +<p>"No, sir."</p> +<p>"There are some gentlemen of my acquaintance," said Schuyler, +turning to Sir Lupus, "who might take a lesson in modesty from Mr. +Ormond."</p> +<p>"Yes," broke out Sir Lupus--"that pompous ass, Gates."</p> +<p>"General Gates is a loyal soldier," said Schuyler, gravely.</p> +<p>"Who the devil cares?" fumed Sir Lupus. "I call a spade a spade! +And I say he is at the head of that infamous cabal which seeks to +disgrace you. Don't tell me, sir! I'm an older man than you, sir! +I've a right to say it, and I do. Gates is an envious ass, and +unfit to hold your stirrup!"</p> +<p>"This is a painful matter," said Schuyler, in a low voice. +"Indiscreet friendship may make it worse. I regard General Gates as +a patriot and a brother soldier.... Pray let us choose a gayer +topic ... friends."</p> +<p>His manner was so noble, his courtesy so charming, that there +was no sting in his snub to Sir Lupus. Even I had heard of the +amazing jealousies and intrigues which had made Schuyler's life +miserable--charges of incompetency, of indifference, of +corruption--nay, some wretched creatures who sought to push Gates +into Schuyler's command even hinted at cowardice and treason. And +none could doubt that Gates knew it and encouraged it, for he had +publicly spoken of Schuyler in slighting and contemptuous +terms.</p> +<p>Yet the gentleman whose honor had been the target for these +slanderers never uttered one word against his traducers: and, when +a friend asked him whether he was too proud to defend himself, +replied, serenely, "Not too proud, but too sensible to spread +discord in my country's army."</p> +<p>"Lady Schuyler desires to know you," said the General, "for I +see her fan-signal, which I always obey." And he laid his arm on +mine as a father might, and led me across the room to where Dorothy +stood with Lady Schuyler on her right, surrounded by a bevy of +bright-eyed girls and gay young officers.</p> +<p>Dorothy presented me in a quiet voice, and I bowed very low to +Lady Schuyler, who made me an old-time reverence, gave me her +fingers to kiss, and spoke most kindly to me, inquiring about my +journey, and how I liked this Northern climate.</p> +<p>Then Dorothy made me known to those near her, to the pretty +Carmichael twins, whose black eyes brimmed purest mischief; to Miss +Haldimand, whose cold beauty had set the Canadas aflame; and to +others of whom I have little recollection save their names. +Christie McDonald and Lysbet Dirck, two fashionable New York +belles, kin to the Schuylers.</p> +<p>As for the men, there was young Paltz Clavarack, ensign in the +Half-moon Regiment, very fine in his orange-faced uniform; and +there was Major Harrow, of the New York line; and a jolly, handsome +dare-devil, Captain Tully O'Neil, of the escort of horse, who hung +to Dorothy's skirts and whispered things that made her laugh. There +were others, too, aides in new uniforms, a medical officer, who +bustled about in the rôle of everybody's friend; and a parcel +of young subalterns, very serious, very red, and very grave, as +though the destiny of empires reposed in their blue-and-gold +despatch pouches.</p> +<p>"I wonder," murmured Dorothy, leaning towards me and speaking +behind her rose-plumed fan--"I wonder why I answered you so."</p> +<p>"Because I deserved it," I muttered,</p> +<p>"Cousin I Cousin!" she said, softly, "you deserve all I can +give--all that I dare not give. You break my heart with +kindness."</p> +<p>I stepped to her side; all around us rose the hum of voices, +laughter, the click of spurs, the soft sounds of silken gowns on a +polished floor.</p> +<p>"It is you who are kind to me, Dorothy," I whispered, "I know I +can never have you, but you must never doubt my constancy. Say you +will not?"</p> +<p>"Hush!" she whispered; "come to the dining-hall; I must look at +the table to see that all is well done, and there is nobody +there.... We can talk there."</p> +<p>She slipped off through the throng, and I sauntered into the +gun-room, from whence I crossed the hallway and entered the +dining-hall. Dorothy stood inspecting the silver and linen, and +giving orders to Cato in a low voice. Then she dismissed the row of +servants and sat down in a leather chair, resting her forehead in +her hands.</p> +<p>"Deary me! Deary me!" she murmured, "how my brain whirls!... I +would I were abed!... I would I were dead!... What was it you said +concerning constancy? Oh, I remember; I am never to doubt your +constancy." She raised her fair head from between her hands.</p> +<p>"Promise you will never doubt it," I whispered.</p> +<p>"I--I never will," she said. "Ask me again for the minuet, dear. +I--I refused everybody--for you."</p> +<p>"Will you walk it with me, Dorothy?"</p> +<p>"Yes--yes, indeed! I told them all I must wait till you asked +me."</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" I said, laughing nervously, "you didn't tell +them that, did you?"</p> +<p>She bent her lovely face, and I saw the smile in her eyes +glimmering through unshed tears.</p> +<p>"Yes; I told them that. Captain O'Neil protests he means to call +you out and run you through. And I said you would probably cut off +his queue and tie him up by his spurs if he presumed to any levity. +Then he said he'd tell Sir George Covert, and I said I'd tell him +myself and everybody else that I loved my cousin Ormond better than +anybody in the world and meant to wed him--"</p> +<p>"Dorothy!" I gasped.</p> +<p>"Wed him to the most, beautiful and lovely and desirable maid in +America!"</p> +<p>"And who is that, if it be not yourself?" I asked, amazed.</p> +<p>"It's Maddaleen Dirck, the New York heiress, Lysbet's sister; +and you are to take her to table."</p> +<p>"Dorothy," I said, angrily, "you told me that you desired me to +be faithful to my love for you!"</p> +<p>"I do! Oh, I do!" she said, passionately. "But it is wrong; it +is dreadfully wrong. To be safe we must both wed, and then--God +knows!--we cannot in honor think of one another."</p> +<p>"It will make no difference," I said, savagely.</p> +<p>"Why, of course, it will!" she insisted, in astonishment. "We +shall be married."</p> +<p>"Do you suppose love can be crushed by marriage?" I asked.</p> +<p>"The hope of it can."</p> +<p>"It cannot, Dorothy."</p> +<p>"It must be crushed!" she exclaimed, flushing scarlet. "If we +both are tied by honor, how can we hope? Cousin, I think I must be +mad to say it, but I never see you that I do not hope. We are not +safe, I tell you, spite of all our vows and promises.... You do not +need to woo me, you do not need to persuade me! Ere you could speak +I should be yours, now, this very moment, for a look, a smile--were +it not for that pale spectre of my own self which rises ever before +me, stern, inexorable, blocking every path which leads to you, and +leaving only that one path free where the sign reads 'honor.' ... +And I--I am sometimes frightened lest, in an overwhelming flood of +love, that sign be torn away and no spectre of myself rise to +confront me, barring those paths that lead to you.... Don't touch +me; Cato is looking at us.... He's gone.... Wait, do not leave +me.... I have been so wretched and unhappy.... I could scarce find +strength and heart to let them dress me, thinking on your face when +I answered you so cruelly.... Oh, cousin! where are our vows now? +Where are the solemn promises we made never to speak of love?... +Lovers make promises like that in story-books--and keep them, too, +and die sanctified, blessing one another and mounting on radiant +wings to heaven.... Where I should find no heaven save in you! Ah, +God! that is the most terrible. That takes my heart away--to die +and wake to find myself still his wife--to live through all +eternity without you--and no hope of you--no hope!... For I could +be patient through this earthly life, losing my youth and yours +forever, ... but not after death! No, no! I cannot.... Better hell +with you than endless heaven with him!... Don't speak to me.... +Take your hand from my hand.... Can you not see that I mean nothing +of what I say--that I do not know what I am saying?... I must go +back; I am hostess--a happy one, as you perceive.... Will I never +learn to curb my tongue? You must forget every word I uttered--do +you hear me?"</p> +<p>She sprang up in her rustling silks and took a dozen steps +towards the door, then turned.</p> +<p>"Do you hear me?" she said. "I bid you remember every word I +uttered--every word!"</p> +<p>She was gone, leaving me staring at the flowers and silver and +the clustered lights. But I saw them not; for before my eyes +floated the vision of a slender hand, and on the wedding-finger I +saw a faint, rosy circle, as I had seen it there a moment since, +when Dorothy dropped her bare arms on the cloth and laid her head +between them.</p> +<p>So it was true; whether for good or ill my cousin wore the +ghost-ring which for ages, Cato says, we Ormonds have worn before +the marriage-ring. There was Ormond blood in Dorothy. Did she wear +the sign as prophecy for that ring Sir George should wed her with? +I dared not doubt it--and yet, why did I also wear the sign?</p> +<p>Then in a flash the forgotten legend of the Maid-at-Arms came +back to me, ringing through my ears in clamorous words:</p> +<blockquote>"Serene, 'mid love's alarms,<br> +For all time shall the Maids-at-Arms,<br> +<i>Wearing the ghost-ring,</i> triumph with their +constancy!"</blockquote> +<p>I sprang to the door in my excitement and stared at the picture +of the Maid-at-Arms.</p> +<p>Sweetly the violet eyes of the maid looked back at me, her armor +glittered, her soft throat seemed to swell with the breath of +life.</p> +<p>Then I crept nearer, eyes fixed on her wedding-finger. And I saw +there a faint rosy circle as though a golden ring had pressed the +snowy flesh.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> +<h3>THE MAID-AT-ARMS</h3> +<br> +<p>I remember little of that dinner save that it differed vastly +from the quarrelsome carousal at which the Johnsons and Butlers +figured in so sinister a rôle, and at which the Glencoe +captains disgraced themselves. But now, if the patroon's wine lent +new color to the fair faces round me, there was no feverish +laughter, nothing of brutal license. Healths were given and drunk +with all the kindly ceremony to which I had been accustomed. At +times pattering gusts of hand-clapping followed some popular toast, +such as "Our New Flag," to which General Schuyler responded in +perfect taste, veiling the deep emotions that the toast stirred in +many with graceful allegory tempered by modesty and +self-restraint.</p> +<p>At the former dinner I had had for my neighbors Dorothy and +Magdalen Brant. Now I sat between Miss Haldimand and Maddaleen +Dirck, whom I had for partner, a pretty little thing, who peppered +her conversation with fashionable New York phrases and spiced the +intervals with French. And I remember she assured me that New York +was the only city fit to live in and that she should never survive +a prolonged transportation from that earthly paradise of elegance +and fashion. Which made me itch to go there.</p> +<p>I think, without meaning any unkindness, that Miss Haldimand, +the Canadian beauty, was somewhat surprised that I had not already +fallen a victim to her lovely presence; but, upon reflection, set +it down to my stupidity; for presently she devoted her conversation +exclusively to Ruyven, whose delight and gratitude could not but +draw a smile from those who observed him. I saw Cecile playing the +maiden's game with young Paltz Clavarack, and Lady Schuyler on Sir +Lupus's right, charmingly demure, faintly amused, and evidently +determined not to be shocked by the free bluntness of her host.</p> +<p>The mischievous Carmichael twins had turned the batteries of +their eyes on two solemn, faultlessly dressed subalterns, and had +already reduced them to the verge of capitulation; and busy, +bustling Dr. Sleeper cracked witticisms with all who offered him +the fee of their attention, and the dinner went very well.</p> +<p>Radiant, beautiful beyond word or thought, Dorothy sat, leaning +back in her chair, and the candle-light on the frosty-gold of her +hair and on her bare arms and neck made of her a miracle of +celestial loveliness. And it was pleasant to see the stately +General on her right bend beside her with that grave gallantry +which young girls find more grateful than the privileged badinage +of old beaus. At moments her sweet eyes stole towards me, and +always found mine raised to greet her with that silent +understanding which brought the faintest smile to her quiet lips. +Once, above the melodious hum of voices, the word "war" sounded +distinctly, and General Schuyler said:</p> +<p>"In these days of modern weapons of precision and long range, +conflicts are doubly deplorable. In the times of the old +match-locks and blunderbusses and unwieldly weapons weighing more +than three times what our modern light rifles weigh, there was +little chance for slaughter. But now that we have our deadly +flint-locks, a battle-field will be a sad spectacle. Bunker Hill +has taught the whole world a lesson that might not be in vain if it +incites us to rid the earth of this wicked frenzy men call +war."</p> +<p>"General," said Sir Lupus, "if weapons were twenty times as +quick and deadly--which is, of course, impossible, thank +God!--there would always be enough men in the world to get up a +war, and enjoy it, too!"</p> +<p>"I do not like to believe that," said Schuyler, smiling.</p> +<p>"Wait and see," muttered the patroon. "I'd like to live a +hundred years hence, just to prove I'm right."</p> +<p>"I should rather not live to see it," said the General, with a +twinkle in his small, grave eyes.</p> +<p>Then quietly the last healths were given and pledged; Dorothy +rose, and we all stood while she and Lady Schuyler passed out, +followed by the other ladies; and I had to restrain Ruyven, who had +made plans to follow Marguerite Haldimand. Then we men gathered +once more over our port and walnuts, conversing freely, while the +fiddles and bassoons tuned up from the hallway, and General +Schuyler told us pleasantly as much of the military situation as he +desired us to know. And it did amuse me to observe the solemn +subalterns nodding all like wise young owlets, as though they +could, if they only dared, reveal secrets that would astonish the +General himself.</p> +<p>Snuff was passed, offered, and accepted with ceremony befitting; +spirits replaced the port, but General Schuyler drank sparingly, +and his well-trained suite perforce followed his example. So that +when it came time to rejoin our ladies there was no evidence of +wandering legs, no amiably vacant laughter, no loud voices to +strike the postprandial discord at the dance or at the +card-tables.</p> +<p>"How did I conduct, cousin?" whispered Ruyven, arm in arm with +me as we entered the long drawing-room. And my response pleasing +him, he made off straight towards Marguerite Haldimand, who viewed +his joyous arrival none too cordially, I thought. Poor Ruyven! Must +he so soon close the gate of Eden behind him?--leaving forever his +immortal boyhood sleeping amid the never-fading flowers.</p> +<p>It was a fascinating and alarming spectacle to see Sir Lupus +walking a minuet with Lady Schuyler, and I marvelled that the gold +buttons on his waistcoat did not fly off in volleys when he strove +to bend what once, perhaps, had been his waist.</p> +<p>Ceremony dictated what we had both forgotten, and General +Schuyler led out Dorothy, who, scarlet in her distress, looked +appealingly at me to see that I understood. And I smiled back to +see her sweet face brighten with gratitude and confidence and a +promise to make up to me what the stern rule of hospitality had +deprived us of.</p> +<p>So it was that I had her for the Sir Roger de Coverley, and +after that for a Delaware reel, which all danced with a delightful +abandon, even Miss Haldimand unbending like a goddess surprised to +find a pleasure in our mortal capers. And it was a pretty sight to +see the ladies pass, gliding daintily under the arch of glittering +swords, led by Lady Schuyler and Dorothy in laughing files, while +the fiddle-bows whirred, and the music of bassoon and hautboys +blended and ended in a final mellow crash. Then breathless voices +rose, and skirts swished and French heels tapped the polished floor +and solemn subalterns stalked about seeking ices and lost buckles +and mislaid fans; and a faint voice said, "Oh!" when a jewelled +garter was found, and a very red subaltern said, "Honi soit!" and +everybody laughed.</p> +<p>Presently I missed the General, and, a moment later, Dorothy. As +I stood in the hallway, seeking for her, came Cecile, crying out +that they were to have pictures and charades, and that General +Schuyler, who was to be a judge, awaited me in the gun-room.</p> +<p>The door of the gun-room was closed. I tapped and entered.</p> +<p>The General sat at the mahogany table, leaning back in his +arm-chair; opposite sat Dorothy, bare elbows on the table, fingers +clasped. Standing by the General, arms folded, Jack Mount loomed a +colossal figure in his beaded buckskins.</p> +<a name="356.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/356.jpg"><img src="images/356.jpg" +width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"JACK MOUNT LOOMED A COLOSSAL FIGURE IN HIS BEADED +BUCKSKINS".</b></p> +<p>"Ah, Mr. Ormond!" said the General, as I closed the door quietly +behind me; "pray be seated. They are to have pictures and charades, +you know; I shall not keep Miss Dorothy and yourself very +long."</p> +<p>I seated myself beside Dorothy, exchanging a smile with +Mount.</p> +<p>"Now," said the General, dropping his voice to a lower tone, +"what was it you saw in the forest to-day?"</p> +<p>So Mount had already reported the apparition of the painted +savage!</p> +<p>I told what I had seen, describing the Indian in detail, and +repeating word for word his warning message to Mount.</p> +<p>The General looked inquiringly at Dorothy. "I understand," he +said, "that you know as much about the Iroquois as the Iroquois do +themselves."</p> +<p>"I think I do," she said, simply.</p> +<p>"May I ask how you acquired your knowledge, Miss Dorothy?"</p> +<p>"There have always been Iroquois villages along our boundary +until last spring, when the Mohawks left with Guy Johnson," she +said. "I have always played with Iroquois children; I went to +school with Magdalen Brant. I taught among our Mohawks and Oneidas +when I was thirteen. Then I was instructed by sachems and I learned +what the witch-drums say, and I need use no signs in the six +languages or the clan dialects, save only when I speak with the +Lenni-Lenape. Maybe, too, the Hurons and Algonquins have words that +I know not, for many Tuscaroras do not understand them save by +sign."</p> +<p>"I wish that some of my interpreters had your knowledge, or a +fifth of it," said the General, smiling. "Tell me, Miss Dorothy, +who was that Indian and what did that paint mean?"</p> +<p>"The Indian was Joseph Brant, called Thayendanegea, which means, +'He who holds many peoples together,' or, in plainer words, 'A +bundle of sticks.'"</p> +<p>"You are certain it was Brant?"</p> +<p>"Yes. He has dined at this table with us. He is an educated +man." She hesitated, looking down thoughtfully at her own +reflection in the polished table. "The paint he wore was not +war-paint. The signs on his body were emblems of the secret clan +called the 'False-Faces.'"</p> +<p>The General looked up at Jack Mount.</p> +<p>"What did Stoner say?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Stoner reports that all the Iroquois are making ready for some +unknown rite, sir. He saw pyramids of flat river-stones set up on +hills and he saw smoke answering smoke from the Adirondack peaks to +the Mayfield hills."</p> +<p>"What did Timothy Murphy observe?" asked Schuyler, watching +Mount intently.</p> +<p>"Murphy brings news of their witch, Catrine Montour, sir. He. +chased her till he dropped--like all the rest of us--but she went +on and on a running, hop! tap! hop! tap! and patter, patter, +patter! It stirs my hair to think on her, and I'm no coward, sir. +We call her 'The Toad-woman.'"</p> +<p>"I'll make you chief of scouts if you catch her," said the +General, sharply.</p> +<p>"Very good, sir," replied Mount, pulling a wry face, which made +us all laugh.</p> +<p>"It has been reported to me," said the General, quietly, "that +the Butlers, father and son, are in this county to attend a secret +council; and that, with the help of Catrine Montour, they expect to +carry the Mohawk nation with them as well as the Cayugas and the +Senecas.</p> +<p>"It has further been reported to me by the Palatine scout that +the Onondagas are wavering, that the Oneidas are disposed to stand +our friends, that the Tuscaroras are anxious to remain neutral.</p> +<p>"Now, within a few days, news has reached me that these three +doubtful nations are to be persuaded by an unknown woman who is, +they say, the prophetess of the False-Faces."</p> +<p>He paused, looking straight at Dorothy.</p> +<p>"From your knowledge," he said, slowly, "tell me who is this +unknown woman."</p> +<p>"Do you not know, sir?" she asked, simply.</p> +<p>"Yes, I think I do, child. It is Magdalen Brant."</p> +<p>"Yes," she said, quietly; "from childhood she stood as +prophetess of the False-Faces. She is an educated girl, sweet, +lovable, honorable, and sincere. She has been petted by the fine +ladies of New York, of Philadelphia, of Albany. Yet she is partly +Mohawk."</p> +<p>"Not that charming girl whom I had to dinner?" I cried, +astonished.</p> +<p>"Yes, cousin," she said, tranquilly. "You are surprised? Why? +You should see, as I have seen, pupils from Dr. Wheelock's school +return to their tribes and, in a summer, sink to the level of the +painted sachem, every vestige of civilization vanished with the +knowledge of the tongue that taught it."</p> +<p>"I have seen that," said Schuyler, frowning.</p> +<p>"And I--by your leave, sir--I have seen it, too!" said Mount, +savagely. "There may be some virtue in the rattlesnake; some folk +eat 'em! But there is none in an Indian, not even stewed--"</p> +<p>"That will do," said the General, ignoring the grim jest. "Do +you speak the Iroquois tongues, or any of them?" he asked, wheeling +around to address me.</p> +<p>"I speak Tuscarora, sir," I replied. "The Tuscaroras understand +the other five nations, but not the Hurons or Algonquins."</p> +<p>"What tongue is used when the Iroquois meet?" he asked +Dorothy.</p> +<p>"Out of compliment to the youngest nation they use the Tuscarora +language," she said.</p> +<p>The General rose, bowing to Dorothy with a charming smile.</p> +<p>"I must not keep you from your charades any longer," he said, +conducting her to the door and thanking her for the great help and +profit he had derived from her knowledge of the Iroquois.</p> +<p>He had not dismissed us, so we awaited his return; and presently +he appeared, calm, courteous, and walked up to me, laying a kindly +hand on my shoulder.</p> +<p>"I want an officer who understands Tuscarora and who has felt +the bite of an Indian bullet," he said, earnestly.</p> +<p>I stood silent and attentive.</p> +<p>"I want that officer to find the False-Faces' council-fire and +listen to every word said, and report to me. I want him to use +every endeavor to find this woman, Magdalen Brant, and use every +art to persuade her to throw all her influence with the Onondagas, +Oneidas, and Tuscaroras for their strict neutrality in this coming +war. The service I require may be dangerous and may not. I do not +know. Are you ready, Captain Ormond?"</p> +<p>"Ready, sir!" I said, steadily.</p> +<p>He drew a parchment from his breast-pocket and laid it in my +hands. It was my commission in the armies of the United States of +America as captain in the militia battalion of Morgan's regiment of +riflemen, and signed by our Governor, George Clinton.</p> +<p>"Do you accept this commission, Mr. Ormond?" he asked, regarding +me pleasantly.</p> +<p>"I do, sir."</p> +<p>Sir Lupus's family Bible lay on the window-sill; the General +bade Mount fetch it, and he did so. The General placed it before +me, and I laid my hand upon it, looking him in the face. Then, in a +low voice, he administered the oath, and I replied slowly but +clearly, ending, "So help me God," and kissed the Book.</p> +<p>"Sit down, sir," said the General; and when I was seated he told +me how the Continental Congress in July of 1775 had established +three Indian departments; how that he, as chief commissioner of +this Northern department, which included the Six Nations of the +Iroquois confederacy, had summoned the national council, first at +German Flatts, then at Albany; how he and the Reverend Mr. Kirkland +and Mr. Dean had done all that could be done to keep the Iroquois +neutral, but that they had not fully prevailed against the counsels +of Guy Johnson and Brant, though the venerable chief of the Mohawk +upper castle had seemed inclined to neutrality. He told me of +General Herkimer's useless conference with Brant at Unadilla, where +that chief had declared that "The King of England's belts were +still lodged with the Mohawks, and that the Mohawks could not +violate their pledges."</p> +<p>"I think we have lost the Mohawks," said the General, +thoughtfully. "Perhaps also the Senecas and Cayugas; for this +she-devil, Catrine Montour, is a Huron-Seneca, and her nation will +follow her. But, if we can hold the three other nations back, it +will be a vast gain to our cause--not that I desire or would permit +them to do battle for me, though our Congress has decided to enlist +such Indians as wish to serve; but because there might be some +thousand warriors the less to hang on our flanks and do the +dreadful work among the people of this country which these people +so justly fear."</p> +<p>He rose, nodding to me, and I followed him to the door.</p> +<p>"Now," he said, "you know what you are to do."</p> +<p>"When shall I set out, sir?" I asked.</p> +<p>He smiled, saying, "I shall give you no instructions, Captain +Ormond; I shall only concern myself with results."</p> +<p>"May I take with me whom I please?"</p> +<p>"Certainly, sir."</p> +<p>I looked at Mount, who had been standing motionless by the door, +an attentive spectator.</p> +<p>"I will take the rifleman Mount," I said, "unless he is detailed +for other service--"</p> +<p>"Take him, Mr. Ormond. When do you wish to start? I ask it +because there is a gentleman at Broadalbin who has news for you, +and you must pass that way."</p> +<p>"May I ask who that is?" I inquired, respectfully.</p> +<p>"The gentleman is Sir George Covert, captain on my personal +staff, and now under your orders."</p> +<p>"I shall set out to-night, sir," I said, abruptly; then stepped +back to let him pass me into the hallway beyond.</p> +<p>"Saddle my mare and make every preparation," I said to Mount. +"When you are ready lead the horses to the stockade gate.... How +long will you take?"</p> +<p>"An hour, sir, for rubbing down, saddling, and packing fodder, +ammunition, and provisions."</p> +<p>"Very well," I said, soberly, and walked out to the long +drawing-room, where the company had taken chairs and were all +whispering and watching a green baize curtain which somebody had +hung across the farther end of the room.</p> +<p>"Charades and pictures," whispered Cecile, at my elbow. "I +guessed two, and Mr. Clavarack says it was wonderful."</p> +<p>"It certainly was," I said, gravely. "Where is Ruyven? Oh, +sitting with Miss Haldimand? Cecile, would you ask Miss Haldimand's +indulgence for a few moments? I must speak to Sir Lupus and to you +and Ruyven."</p> +<p>I stepped back of the rows of chairs to where Sir Lupus sat in +his great arm-chair by the doorway; and in another moment Cecile +and Ruyven came up, the latter polite but scarcely pleased to be +torn away from his first inamorata.</p> +<p>"Sir Lupus, and you, Cecile and Ruyven," I said, in a low voice, +"I am going on a little journey, and shall be absent for a few +days, perhaps longer. I wish to take this opportunity to say +good-bye, and to thank you all for your great kindness to me."</p> +<p>"Where the devil are you going?" snapped Sir Lupus.</p> +<p>"I am not at liberty to say, sir; perhaps General Schuyler may +tell you."</p> +<p>The patroon looked up at me sorrowfully. "George! George!" he +said, "has it touched us already?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," I muttered.</p> +<p>"What?" whispered Cecile.</p> +<p>"Father means the war. Our cousin Ormond is going to the war," +exclaimed Ruyven, softly.</p> +<p>There was a pause; then Cecile flung both arms around my neck +and kissed me in choking silence. The patroon's great, fat hand +sought mine and held it; Ruyven placed his arm about my shoulder. +Never had I imagined that I could love these kinsmen of mine so +dearly.</p> +<p>"There's always a bed for you here; remember that, my lad," +growled the patroon.</p> +<p>"Take me, too," sniffed Ruyven.</p> +<p>"Eh! What?" cried the patroon. "<i>I'll</i> take you; oh +yes--over my knee, you impudent puppy! Let me catch you sneaking +off to this war and I'll--"</p> +<p>Ruyven relapsed into silence, staring at me in troubled +fascination.</p> +<p>"The house is yours, George," grunted the patroon. "Help +yourself to what you need for your journey."</p> +<p>"Thank you, sir; say good-bye to the children, kiss them all for +me, Cecile. And don't run away and get married until I come +back."</p> +<p>A stifled snivel was my answer.</p> +<p>Then into the room shuffled old Cato, and began to extinguish +the candles; and I saw the green curtain twitch, and everybody +whispered "Ah-h!"</p> +<p>General Schuyler arose in the dim light when the last candle was +blown out. "You are to guess the title of this picture!" he said, +in his even, pleasant voice. "It is a famous picture, familiar to +all present, I think, and celebrated in the Old World as well as in +the New.... Draw the curtain, Cato!"</p> +<p>Suddenly the curtain parted, and there stood the living, +breathing figure of the "Maid-at-Arms." Her thick, gold hair +clouded her cheeks, her eyes, blue as wood-violets, looked out +sweetly from the shadowy background, her armor glittered.</p> +<p>A stillness fell over the dark room; slowly the green curtains +closed; the figure vanished.</p> +<p>There was a roar of excited applause in my ears as I stumbled +forward through the darkness, groping my way towards the dim +gun-room through which she must pass to regain her chamber by the +narrow stairway which led to the attic.</p> +<p>She was not there; I waited a moment, listening in the darkness, +and presently I heard, somewhere overhead, a faint ringing sound +and the deadened clash of armed steps on the garret floor.</p> +<p>"Dorothy!" I called.</p> +<p>The steps ceased, and I mounted the steep stairway and came out +into the garret, and saw her standing there, her armor outlined +against the window and the pale starlight streaming over her steel +shoulder-pieces.</p> +<p>I shall never forget her as she stood looking at me, her +steel-clad figure half buried in the darkness, yet dimly apparent +in its youthful symmetry where the starlight fell on the curve of +cuisse and greave, glimmering on the inlaid gorget with an +unearthly light, and stirring pale sparks like fire-flies tangled +in her hair.</p> +<p>"Did I please you?" she whispered. "Did I not surprise you? Cato +scoured the armor for me; it is the same armor she wore, they +say--the Maid-at-Arms. And it fits me like my leather clothes, limb +and body. Hark!... They are applauding yet! But I do not mean to +spoil the magic picture by a senseless repetition.... And some are +sure to say a ghost appeared.... Why are you so silent?... Did I +not please you?"</p> +<p>She flung casque and sword on the floor, cleared her white +forehead from its tumbled veil of hair; then bent nearer, scanning +my eyes closely.</p> +<p>"Is aught amiss?" she asked, under her breath.</p> +<p>I turned and slowly traversed the upper hallway to her chamber +door, she walking beside me in silence, striving to read my +face.</p> +<p>"Let your maids disarm you," I whispered; "then dress and tap at +my door. I shall be waiting."</p> +<p>"Tell me now, cousin."</p> +<p>"No; dress first."</p> +<p>"It will take too long to do my hair. Oh, tell me! You have +frightened me."</p> +<p>"It is nothing to frighten you," I said. "Put off your armor and +come to my door. Will you promise?"</p> +<p>"Ye-es," she faltered; and I turned and hastened to my own +chamber, to prepare for the business which lay before me.</p> +<p>I dressed rapidly, my thoughts in a whirl; but I had scarcely +slung powder-horn and pouch, and belted in my hunting-shirt, when +there came a rapping at the door, and I opened it and stepped out +into the dim hallway.</p> +<p>At sight of me she understood, and turned quite white, standing +there in her boudoir-robe of China silk, her heavy, burnished hair +in two loose braids to her waist.</p> +<p>In silence I lifted her listless hands and kissed the fingers, +then the cold wrists and palms. And I saw the faint circlet of the +ghost-ring on her bridal finger, and touched it with my lips.</p> +<p>Then, as I stepped past her, she gave a low cry, hiding her face +in her hands, and leaned back against the wall, quivering from head +to foot.</p> +<p>"Don't go!" she sobbed. "Don't go--don't go!"</p> +<p>And because I durst not, for her own sake, turn or listen, I +reeled on, seeing nothing, her faint cry ringing in my ears, until +darkness and a cold wind struck me in the face, and I saw horses +waiting, black in the starlight, and the gigantic form of a man at +their heads, fringed cape blowing in the wind.</p> +<p>"All ready?" I gasped.</p> +<p>"All is ready and the night fine! We ride by Broadalbin, I +think.... Whoa! back up! you long-eared ass! D'ye think to smell a +Mohawk?... Or is it your comrades on the picket-rope that bedevil +you?... Look at the troop-horses, sir, all a-rolling on their backs +in the sand, four hoofs waving in the air. It's easier on yon +sentry than when they're all a-squealin' and a-bitin'--This way, +sir. We swing by the bush and pick up the Iroquois trail 'twixt the +Hollow and Mayfield."</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> +<h3>ON DUTY</h3> +<br> +<p>As we galloped into Broadalbin Bush a house on our right loomed +up black and silent, and I saw shutters and doors swinging wide +open, and the stars shining through. There was something sinister +in this stark and tenantless homestead, whose void casements +stared, like empty eye-sockets.</p> +<p>"They have gone to the Middle Fort--all of them except the +Stoners," said Mount, pushing his horse up beside mine. "Look, sir! +See what this red terror has already done to make a wilderness of +County Try on--and not a blow struck yet!"</p> +<p>We passed another house, doorless, deserted; and as I rode +abreast of it, to my horror I saw two shining eyes staring out at +me from the empty window.</p> +<p>"A wolf--already!" muttered Mount, tugging at his bridle as his +horse sheered off, snorting; and I saw something run across the +front steps and drop into the shadows.</p> +<p>The roar of the Kennyetto sounded nearer. Woods gave place to +stump-fields in which the young corn sprouted, silvered by the +stars. Across a stony pasture we saw a rushlight burning in a +doorway; and, swinging our horses out across a strip of burned +stubble, we came presently to Stoner's house and heard the noise of +the stream rushing through the woods below.</p> +<p>I saw Sir George Covert immediately; he was sitting on a log +under the window, dressed in his uniform, a dark military cloak +mantling his shoulders and knees. When he recognized me he rose and +came to my side.</p> +<p>"Well, Ormond," he said, quietly, "it's a comfort to see you. +Leave your horses with Elerson. Who is that with you--oh, Jack +Mount? These are the riflemen, Elerson and Murphy--Morgan's men, +you know."</p> +<p>The two riflemen saluted me with easy ceremony and sauntered +over to where Mount was standing at our horses' heads.</p> +<p>"Hello, Catamount Jack," said Elerson, humorously. "Where 'd ye +steal the squaw-buckskins? Look at the macaroni, Tim--all yellow +and purple fringe!"</p> +<p>Mount surveyed the riflemen in their suits of brown holland and +belted rifle-frocks.</p> +<p>"Dave Elerson, you look like a Quakeress in a Dutch jerkin," he +observed.</p> +<p>"'Tis the nate turrn to yere leg he grudges ye," said Murphy to +Elerson. "Wisha, Dave, ye've the legs av a beau!"</p> +<p>"Bow-legs, Dave," commented Mount. "It's not your fault, lad. +I've seen 'em run from the Iroquois as fast as Tim's--"</p> +<p>The bantering reply of the big Irishman was lost to me as Sir +George led me out of earshot, one arm linked in mine.</p> +<p>I told him briefly of my mission, of my new rank in the army. He +congratulated me warmly, and asked, in his pleasant way, for news +of the manor, yet did not name Dorothy, which surprised me to the +verge of resentment. Twice I spoke of her, and he replied +courteously, yet seemed nothing eager to learn of her beyond what I +volunteered.</p> +<p>And at last I said: "Sir George, may I not claim a kinsman's +privilege to wish you joy in your great happiness?"</p> +<p>"What happiness?" he asked, blankly; then, in slight confusion, +added: "You speak of my betrothal to your cousin Dorothy. I am +stupid beyond pardon, Ormond; I thank you for your kind wishes.... +I suppose Sir Lupus told you," he added, vaguely.</p> +<p>"My cousin Dorothy told me," I said.</p> +<p>"Ah! Yes--yes, indeed. But it is all in the future yet, Ormond." +He moved on, switching the long weeds with a stick he had found. +"All in the future," he murmured, absently--"in fact, quite remote, +Ormond.... By-the-way, you know why you were to meet me?"</p> +<p>"No, I don't," I replied, coldly.</p> +<p>"Then I'll tell you. The General is trying to head off Walter +Butler and arrest him. Murphy and Elerson have just heard that +Walter Butler's mother and sister, and a young lady, Magdalen +Brant--you met her at Varicks'--are staying quietly at the house of +a Tory named Beacraft. We must strive to catch him there; and, +failing that, we must watch Magdalen Brant, that she has no +communication with the Iroquois." He hesitated, head bent. "You +see, the General believes that this young girl can sway the +False-Faces to peace or war. She was once their pet--as a child.... +It seems hard to believe that this lovely and cultivated young girl +could revert to such savage customs.... And yet Murphy and Elerson +credit it, and say that she will surely appear at the False-Faces' +rites.... It is horrible, Ormond; she is a sweet child--by Heaven, +she would turn a European court with her wit and beauty!"</p> +<p>"I concede her beauty," I said, uneasy at his warm praise, "but +as to her wit, I confess I scarcely exchanged a dozen words with +her that night, and so am no judge."</p> +<p>"Ah!" he said, with an absent-minded stare.</p> +<p>"I naturally devoted myself to my cousin Dorothy," I added, +irritated, without knowing why.</p> +<p>"Quite so--quite so," he mused. "As I was saying, it seems cruel +to suspect Magdalen Brant, but the General believes she can sway +the Oneidas and Tuscaroras.... It is a ghastly idea. And if she +does attempt this thing, it will be through the infernal +machinations and devilish persuasions of the Butlers--mark that, +Ormond!"</p> +<p>He turned short in his tracks and made a fierce gesture with his +stick. It broke short, and he flung the splintered ends into the +darkness.</p> +<p>"Why," he said, warmly, "there is not a gentler, sweeter +disposition in the world than Magdalen Brant's, if no one comes +a-tampering to wake the Iroquois blood in her. These accursed +Butlers seem inspired by hell itself--and Guy Johnson!--What kind +of a man is that, to take this young girl from Albany, where she +had forgotten what a council-fire meant, and bring her here to +these savages--sacrifice her!--undo all those years of culture and +education!--rouse in her the dormant traditions and passions which +she had imbibed with her first milk, and which she forgot when she +was weaned! That is the truth, I tell you! I know, sir! It was my +uncle who took her from Guy Park and sent her to my aunt +Livingston. She had the best of schooling; she was reared in +luxury; she had every advantage that could be gained in Albany; my +aunt took her to London that she might acquire those graces of +deportment which we but roughly imitate.... Is it not sickening to +see Guy Johnson and Sir John exercise their power of relationship +and persuade her from a good home back to this?... Think of it, +Ormond!"</p> +<p>"I do think of it," said I. "It is wrong--it is cruel and +shameful!"</p> +<p>"It is worse," said Sir George, bitterly. "Scarce a year has she +been at Guy Park, yet to-day she is in full sympathy with Guy and +Sir John and her dusky kinsman, Brant. Outwardly she is a charming, +modest maid, and I do not for an instant mean you to think she is +not chaste! The Irish nation is no more famed for its chastity than +the Mohawk, but I know that she listens when the forest +calls--listens with savant ears, Ormond, and her dozen drops of +dusky blood set her pulses flying to the free call of the Wolf +clan!"</p> +<p>"Do you know her well?" I asked.</p> +<p>"I? No. I saw her at my aunt Livingston's. It was the other +night that I talked long with her--for the first time in my +life."</p> +<p>He stood silent, knee-deep in the dewy weeds, hand worrying his +sword-hilt, long cloak flung back.</p> +<p>"You have no idea how much of a woman she is," he said, +vaguely.</p> +<p>"In that case," I replied, "you might influence her."</p> +<p>He raised his thoughtful face to the stars, studying the Twin +Pointers.</p> +<p>"May I try?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Try? Yes, try, in Heaven's name, Sir George! If she must speak +to the Oneidas, persuade her to throw her influence for peace, if +you can. At all events, I shall know whether or not she goes to the +fire, for I am charged by the General to find the False-Faces and +report to him every word said.... Do you speak Tuscarora, Sir +George?"</p> +<p>"No; only Mohawk," he said. "How are you going to find the +False-Faces' meeting-place?"</p> +<p>"If Magdalen Brant goes, I go," said I. "And while I'm watching +her, Jack Mount is to range, and track any savage who passes the +Iroquois trail.... What do you mean to do with Murphy and +Elerson?"</p> +<p>"Elerson rides back to the manor with our horses; we've no +further use for them here. Murphy follows me.... And I think we +should be on our way," he added, impatiently.</p> +<p>We walked back to the house, where old man Stoner and his two +big boys stood with our riflemen, drinking flip.</p> +<p>"Elerson," I said, "ride my mare and lead the other horses back +to Varicks'. Murphy, you will pilot us to Beacraft's. Jack, go +forward with Murphy."</p> +<p>Old Stoner wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, bit into a +twist of tobacco, spat derisively, and said: "This pup Beacraft +swares he'll lift my haar 'fore he gits through with me! Threatened +men live long. Kindly tell him me an' my sons is to hum. Sir +George."</p> +<p>The big, lank boys laughed, and winked at me as I passed.</p> +<p>"Good trail an' many skelps to ye!" said old Stoner. "If ye see +Francy McCraw, jest tell him thar's a rope an' a apple-tree waitin' +fur him down to Fundy's Bush!"</p> +<p>"Tell Danny Redstock an' Billy Bones that the Stoner boys is +smellin' almighty close on their trail!" called out the elder +youth.</p> +<p>Elerson, in his saddle, gathered the bridles that Mount handed +him and rode off into the darkness, leading Mount's horse and Sir +George's at a trot. We filed off due west, Murphy and Mount +striding in the lead, the noise of the river below us on our left. +A few rods and we swung south, then west into a wretched +stump-road, which Sir George said was the Mayfield road and part of +the Sacandaga trail.</p> +<p>The roar of the Kennyetto accompanied us, then for a while was +lost in the swaying murmur of the pines. Twice we passed trodden +carrying-places before the rushing of the river sounded once more +far below us in a gorge; and we descended into a hollow to a ford +from which an Indian trail ran back to the north. This was the +Balston trail, which joined the Fish-House road; and Sir George +said it was the trail I should have followed had it not been +necessary for me to meet him at Fonda's Bush to relieve him of his +horse.</p> +<p>Now, journeying rapidly west, our faces set towards the Mayfield +hills, we passed two or three small, cold brooks, on +stepping-stones, where the dark sky, set with stars, danced in the +ripples. Once, on a cleared hill, we saw against the sky the dim +bulk of a lonely barn; then nothing more fashioned by human hands +until, hours later, we found Murphy and Mount standing beside some +rough pasture bars in the forest. How they had found them in the +darkness of the woods--for we had long since left the stump-road--I +do not know; but the bars were there, and a brush fence; and Murphy +whispered that, beyond, a cow-path led to Beacraft's house.</p> +<p>Now, wary of ambuscade, we moved on, rifles primed and cocked, +traversing a wet path bowered by willow and alder, until we reached +a cornfield, fenced with split rails. The path skirted this, +continuing under a line of huge trees, then ascended a stony little +hill, on which a shadowy house stood.</p> +<p>"Beacraft's," whispered Murphy.</p> +<p>Sir George suggested that we surround the house and watch it +till dawn; so Mount circled the little hill and took station in the +north, Sir George moved eastward, Murphy crept to the west, and I +sat down under the last tree in the lane, cocked rifle on my knees, +pan sheltered under my round cap of doeskin.</p> +<p>Sunrise was to be our signal to move forward. The hours dragged; +the stars grew no paler; no sign of life appeared in the ghostly +house save when the west wind brought to me a faint scent of smoke, +invisible as yet above the single chimney.</p> +<p>But after a long while I knew that dawn was on the way towards +the western hills, for a bird twittered restlessly in the tree +above me, and I began to feel, rather than hear, a multitude of +feathered stirrings all about me in the darkness.</p> +<p>Would dawn never come? The stars seemed brighter than ever--no, +one on the eastern horizon twinkled paler; the blue-black sky had +faded; another star paled; others lost their diamond lustre; a +silvery pallor spread throughout the east, while the increasing +chorus of the birds grew in my ears.</p> +<p>Then a cock-crow rang out, close by, and the bird o' dawn's +clear fanfare roused the feathered world to a rushing outpour of +song.</p> +<p>All the east was yellow now; a rose-light quivered behind the +forest like the shimmer of a hidden fire; then a blinding shaft of +light fell across the world.</p> +<p>Springing to my feet, I shouldered my rifle and started across +the pasture, ankle deep in glittering dew; and as I advanced Sir +George appeared, breasting the hill from the east; Murphy's big +bulk loomed in the west; and, as we met before the door of the +house, Jack Mount sauntered around the corner, chewing a +grass-stem, his long, brown rifle cradled in his arm.</p> +<p>"Rap on the door, Mount," I said. Mount gave a round double rap, +chewed his grass-stem, considered, then rapped again, humming to +himself in an under-tone:</p> +<blockquote>"Is the old fox in?<br> +Is the old fox out?<br> +Is the old fox gone to Glo-ry?<br> +Oh, he's just come in,<br> +But he's just gone out,<br> +And I hope you like my sto-ry!<br> +Tink-a-diddle-diddle-diddle,<br> +Tink-a-diddle-diddle-dum--"</blockquote> +<p>"Rap louder," I said.</p> +<p>Mount obeyed, chewed reflectively, and scratched his ear.</p> +<blockquote>"Is the Tory in?<br> +Is the Tory out?<br> +Is the Tory gone to Glo-ry?<br> +Oh, he's just come in.<br> +But he's just gone out--"</blockquote> +<p>"Knock louder," I repeated.</p> +<p>Murphy said he could drive the door in with his gun-butt; I +shook my head.</p> +<p>"Somebody's coming," observed Mount--</p> +<blockquote>"Tink-a-diddle-diddle--"</blockquote> +<p>The door opened and a lean, dark-faced man appeared, dressed in +his smalls and shirt. He favored us with a sour look, which +deepened to a scowl when he recognized Mount, who saluted him +cheerfully.</p> +<p>"Hello, Beacraft, old cock! How's the mad world usin' you these +palmy, balmy days?"</p> +<p>"Pretty well," said Beacraft, sullenly.</p> +<p>"That's right, that's right," cried Mount. "My friends and I +thought we'd just drop around. Ain't you glad, Beacraft, old +buck?"</p> +<p>"Not very," said Beacraft.</p> +<p>"Not <i>very</i>!" echoed Mount, in apparent dismay and sorrow. +"Ain't you enj'yin' good health, Beacraft?"</p> +<p>"I'm well, but I'm busy," said the man, slowly.</p> +<p>"So are we, so are we," cried Mount, with a brisk laugh. "Come +in, friends; you must know my old acquaintance Beacraft better; a +King's man, gentlemen, so we can all feel at home now!"</p> +<p>For a moment Beacraft looked as though he meant to shut the door +in our faces, but Mount's huge bulk was in the way, and we all +followed his lead, entering a large, unplastered room, part +kitchen, part bedroom.</p> +<p>"A King's man," repeated Mount, cordially, rubbing his hands at +the smouldering fire and looking around in apparent satisfaction. +"A King's man; what the nasty rebels call a 'Tory,' gentlemen. My! +Ain't this nice to be all together so friendly and cosey with my +old friend Beacraft? Who's visitin' ye, Beacraft? Anybody sleepin' +up-stairs, old friend?"</p> +<p>Beacraft looked around at us, and his eyes rested on Sir +George.</p> +<p>"Who be you?" he asked.</p> +<p>"This is my friend, Mr. Covert," said Mount, fairly sweating +cordiality from every pore--"my dear old friend, Mr. Covert--"</p> +<p>"Oh," said Beacraft, "I thought he was Sir George Covert.... And +yonder stands your dear old friend Timothy Murphy, I suppose?"</p> +<p>"Exactly," smiled Mount, rubbing his palms in appreciation.</p> +<p>The man gave me an evil look.</p> +<p>"I don't know you," he said, "but I could guess your business." +And to Mount: "What do you want?"</p> +<p>"We want to know," said I, "whether Captain Walter Butler is +lodging here?"</p> +<p>"He was," said Beacraft, grimly; "he left yesterday."</p> +<blockquote>"And I hope you like my sto-ry!"</blockquote> +<p>hummed Mount, strolling about the room, peeping into closets and +cupboards, poking under the bed with his rifle, and finally coming +to a halt at the foot of the stairs with his head on one side, like +a jay-bird immersed in thought.</p> +<p>Murphy, who had quietly entered the cellar, returned +empty-handed, and, at a signal from me, stepped outside and seated +himself on a chopping-block in the yard, from whence he commanded a +view of the house and vicinity.</p> +<p>"Now, Mr. Beacraft," I said, "whoever lodges above must come +down; and it would be pleasanter for everybody if you carried the +invitation."</p> +<p>"Do you propose to violate the privacy of my house?" he +asked.</p> +<p>"I certainly do."</p> +<p>"Where is your warrant of authority?" he inquired, fixing his +penetrating eyes on mine.</p> +<p>"I have my authority from the General commanding this +department. My instructions are verbal--my warrant is military +necessity. I fear that this explanation must satisfy you."</p> +<p>"It does not," he said, doggedly.</p> +<p>"That is unfortunate," I observed. "I will give you one more +chance to answer my question. What person or persons are on the +floor above?"</p> +<p>"Captain Butler was there; he departed yesterday with his mother +and sister," replied Beacraft, maliciously.</p> +<p>"Is that all?"</p> +<p>"Miss Brant is there," he muttered.</p> +<p>I glanced at Sir George, who had risen to pace the floor, +throwing back his military cloak. At sight of his uniform +Beacraft's small eyes seemed to dart fire.</p> +<p>"What were you doing when we knocked?" I inquired.</p> +<p>"Cooking," he replied, tersely.</p> +<p>"Then cook breakfast for us all--and Miss Brant," I said. +"Mount, help Mr. Beacraft with the corn-bread and boil those eggs. +Sir George, I want Murphy to stay outside, so if you would spread +the cloth--"</p> +<p>"Of course," he said, nervously; and I started up the flimsy +wooden stairway, which shook as I mounted. Beacraft's malignant +eyes followed me for a moment, then he thrust his hands into his +pockets and glowered at Mount, who, whistling cheerfully, squatted +before the fireplace, blowing the embers with a pair of home-made +bellows.</p> +<p>On the floor above, four doors faced the narrow passage-way. I +knocked at one. A gentle, sleepy voice answered:</p> +<p>"Very well."</p> +<p>Then, in turn, I entered each of the remaining rooms and +searched. In the first room there was nothing but a bed and a bit +of mirror framed in pine; in the second, another bed and a +clothes-press which contained an empty cider-jug and a tattered +almanac; in the third room a mattress lay on the floor, and beside +it two ink-horns, several quills, and a sheet of blue paper, such +as comes wrapped around a sugar-loaf. The sheet of paper was pinned +to the floor with pine splinters, as though a draughtsman had +prepared it for drawing some plan, but there were no lines on it, +and I was about to leave it when a peculiar odor in the close air +of the room brought me back to re-examine it on both sides.</p> +<p>There was no mark on the blue surface. I picked up an ink-horn, +sniffed it, and spilled a drop of the fluid on my finger. The fluid +left no stain, but the odor I had noticed certainly came from it. I +folded the paper and placed it in my beaded pouch, then descended +the stairs, to find Mount stirring the corn-bread and Sir George +laying a cloth over the kitchen table, while Beacraft sat moodily +by the window, watching everybody askance. The fire needed mending +and I used the bellows. And, as I knelt there on the hearth, I saw +a milky white stain slowly spread over the finger which I had +dipped into the ink-horn. I walked to the door and stood in the +cool morning air. Slowly the white stain disappeared.</p> +<p>"Mount," I said, sharply, "you and Murphy and Beacraft will eat +your breakfast at once--and be quick about it." And I motioned +Murphy into the house and sat down on an old plough to wait.</p> +<p>Through the open door I could see the two big riflemen plying +spoon and knife, while Beacraft picked furtively at his +johnny-cake, eyes travelling restlessly from Mount to Murphy, from +Sir George to the wooden stairway.</p> +<p>My riflemen ate like hounds after a chase, tipping their +porridge-dishes to scrape them clean, then bolted eggs and smoking +corn-bread in a trice, and rose, taking Beacraft with them to the +doorway.</p> +<p>"Fill your pipes, lads," I said. "Sit out in the sun yonder. Mr. +Beacraft may have some excellent stories to tell you."</p> +<p>"I must do my work," said Beacraft, angrily, but Mount and +Murphy each took an arm and led the unwilling man across the strip +of potato-hills to a grassy knoll under a big oak, from whence a +view of the house and clearing could be obtained. When I entered +the house again, Sir George was busy removing soiled plates and +arranging covers for three; and I sat down close to the fire, +drawing the square of blue paper from my pouch and spreading it to +the blaze. When it was piping hot I laid it upon my knees and +examined the design. What I had before me was a well-drawn map of +the Kingsland district, made in white outline, showing trails and +distances between farms. And, out of fifty farms marked, +forty-three bore the word "Rebel," and were ornamented by <i>little +red hatchets</i>.</p> +<p>Also, to every house was affixed the number, sex, and age of its +inhabitants, even down to the three-months babe in the cradle, the +number of cattle, the amount of grain in the barns.</p> +<p>Further, the Kingsland district of the county was divided into +three sections, the first marked "McCraw's Operations," the second +"Butler and Indians," the third "St. Leger's Indians and Royal +Greens." The paper was signed by Uriah Beacraft.</p> +<p>After a few moments I folded this carefully prepared plan for +deliberate and wholesale murder and placed it in my wallet.</p> +<p>Sir George looked up at me with a question in his eyes. I +nodded, saying: "We have enough to arrest Beacraft. If you cannot +persuade Magdalen Brant, we must arrest her, too. You had best use +all your art, Sir George."</p> +<p>"I will do what I can," he said, gravely.</p> +<p>A moment later a light step sounded on the stairs; we both +sprang to our feet and removed our hats. Magdalen Brant appeared, +fresh and sweet as a rose-peony on a dewy morning.</p> +<p>"Sir George!" she exclaimed, in flushed dismay--"and you, too, +Mr. Ormond!"</p> +<p>Sir George bowed, laughingly, saying that our journey had +brought us so near her that we could not neglect to pay our +respects.</p> +<p>"Where is Mr. Beacraft?" she said, bewildered, and at the same +moment caught sight of him through the open doorway, seated under +the oak-tree, apparently in delightful confab with Murphy and +Mount.</p> +<p>"I do not quite understand," she said, gazing steadily at Sir +George. "We are King's people here. And you--"</p> +<p>She looked at his blue-and-buff uniform, shaking her head, then +glanced at me in my fringed buckskins.</p> +<p>"I trust this war cannot erase the pleasant memories of other +days, Miss Brant," said Sir George, easily. "May we not have one +more hour together before the storm breaks?"</p> +<p>"What storm, Sir George?" she asked, coloring up.</p> +<p>"The British invasion," I said. "We have chosen our colors; your +kinsmen have chosen theirs. It is a political, not a personal +difference, Miss Brant, and we may honorably clasp hands until our +hands are needed for our hilts."</p> +<p>Sir George, graceful and debonair, conducted her to her place at +the rough table; I served the hasty-pudding, making a jest of the +situation. And presently we were eating there in the sunshine of +the open doorway, chatting over the dinner at Varicks', each +outvying the others to make the best of an unhappy and delicate +situation.</p> +<p>Sir George spoke of the days in Albany spent with his aunt, and +she responded in sensitive reserve, which presently softened under +his gentle courtesy, leaving her beautiful, dark eyes a trifle dim +and her scarlet mouth quivering,</p> +<p>"It is like another life," she said. "It was too lovely to last. +Ah, those dear people in Albany, and their great kindness to me! +And now I shall never see them again."</p> +<p>"Why not?" asked Sir George. "My aunt Livingston would welcome +you."</p> +<p>"I cannot abandon my own kin, Sir George," she said, raising her +distressed eyes to his.</p> +<p>"There are moments when it is best to sever such ties," I +observed.</p> +<p>"Perhaps," she said, quickly; "but this is not the moment, Mr. +Ormond. My kinsmen are exiled fugitives, deprived of their own +lands by those who have risen in rebellion against our King. How +can I, whom they loved in their prosperity, leave them in their +adversity?"</p> +<p>"You speak of Guy Johnson and Sir John?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Yes; and of those brave people whose blood flows in my veins," +she said, quietly. "Where is the Mohawk nation now, Sir George? +This is their country, secured to them by solemn oath and covenant, +inviolate for all time. Their belts lie with the King of England; +his belts lie still with my people, the Mohawks. Where are +they?"</p> +<p>"Fled to Oswego with Sir John," I said.</p> +<p>"And homeless!" she added, in a low, tense voice--"homeless, +without clothing, without food, save what Guy Johnson gives them; +their women and children utterly helpless, the graves of their +fathers abandoned, their fireplace at Onondaga cold, and the brands +scattered for the first time in a thousand years I This have you +Boston people done--done already, without striking a blow."</p> +<p>She turned her head proudly and looked straight at Sir +George.</p> +<p>"Is it not the truth?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Only in part," he said, gently. Then, with infinite pains and +delicacy, he told her of our government's desire that the Iroquois +should not engage in the struggle; that if they had consented to +neutrality they might have remained in possession of their lands +and all their ancient rights, guaranteed by our Congress.</p> +<p>He pointed out the fatal consequences of Guy Johnson's councils, +the effect of Butler's lying promises, the dreadful results of such +a struggle between Indians, maddened by the loss of their own +homes, and settlers desperately clinging to theirs.</p> +<p>"It is not the Mohawks I blame," he said, "it is those to whom +opportunity has given wider education and knowledge--the Tories, +who are attempting to use the Six Nations for their own selfish and +terrible ends!... If in your veins run a few drops of Mohawk blood, +my child, English blood runs there, too. Be true to your bright +Mohawk blood; be true to the generous English blood. It were +cowardly to deny either--shameful to betray the one for the +other."</p> +<p>She gazed at him, fascinated; his voice swayed her, his +handsome, grave face held her. Whether it was reason or emotion, +mind or heart, I know not, but her whole sensitive being seemed to +respond to his voice; and as he played upon this lovely human +instrument, varying his deep theme, she responded in every nerve, +every breath. Reason, hope, sorrow, tenderness, passion--all these +I read in her deep, velvet eyes, and in the mute language of her +lips, and in the timing pulse-beat under the lace on her +breast.</p> +<p>I rose and walked to the door. She did not heed my going, nor +did Sir George.</p> +<p>Under the oak-tree I found Murphy and Mount, smoking their pipes +and watching Beacraft, who lay with his rough head pillowed on his +arms, feigning slumber.</p> +<p>"Why did you mark so many houses with the red hatchet?" I asked, +pleasantly.</p> +<p>He did not move a muscle, but over his face a deep color spread +to the neck and hair.</p> +<p>"Murphy," I said, "take that prisoner to General Schuyler!"</p> +<p>Beacraft sprang up, glaring at me out of bloodshot eyes.</p> +<p>"Shoot him if he breaks away," I added.</p> +<p>From his convulsed and distorted lips a torrent of profanity +burst as Murphy laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and faced him +eastward. I drew the blue paper from my wallet, whispered to +Murphy, and handed it to him. He shoved it inside the breast of his +hunting-shirt, cocked his rifle, and tapped Beacraft on the +arm.</p> +<p>So they marched away across the sunlit pasture, where blackbirds +walked among the cattle, and the dew sparkled in tinted drops of +fire.</p> +<p>In all my horror of the man I pitied him, for I knew he was +going to his death, there through the fresh, sweet morning, under +the blue heavens. Once I saw him look up, as though to take a last +long look at a free sky, and my heart ached heavily. Yet he had +plotted death in its most dreadful shapes for others who loved life +as well as he--death to neighbors, death to strangers--whole +families, whom he had perhaps never even seen--to mothers, to +fathers, old, young, babes in the cradle, babes at the breast; +<i>and he had set down the total of one hundred and twenty-nine +scalps at twenty dollars each, over his own signature</i>.</p> +<p>Schuyler had said to me that it was not the black-eyed Indians +the people of Tryon County dreaded, but the <i>blue-eyed</i> +savages. And I had scarcely understood at that time how the +ferocity of demons could lie dormant in white breasts.</p> +<p>Standing there with Mount under the oak, I saw Sir George and +Magdalen Brant leave the house and stroll down the path towards the +stream. Sir George was still speaking in his quiet, earnest manner; +her eyes were fixed on him so that she scarce heeded her steps, and +twice long sprays of sweetbrier caught her gown, and Sir George +freed her. But her eyes never wandered from him; and I myself +thought he never looked so handsome and courtly as he did now, in +his officer's uniform and black cockade.</p> +<p>Where their pathway entered the alders, below the lane, they +vanished from our sight; and, leaving Mount to watch I went back to +the house, to search it thoroughly from cellar to the dark garret +beneath the eaves.</p> +<p>At two o'clock in the afternoon Sir George and Magdalen Brant +had not returned. I called Mount into the house, and we cooked some +eggs and johnny-cake to stay our stomachs. An hour later I sent +Mount out to make a circle of a mile, strike the Iroquois trail and +hang to it till dark, following any traveller, white or red, who +might be likely to lead him towards the secret trysting-place of +the False-Faces.</p> +<p>Left alone at the house, I continued to rummage, finding nothing +of importance, however; and towards dusk I came out to see if I +might discover Sir George and Magdalen Brant. They were not in +sight. I waited for a while, strolling about the deserted garden, +where a few poppies turned their crimson disks towards the setting +sun, and a peony lay dead and smelling rank, with the ants crawling +all over it. In the mellow light the stillness was absolute, save +when a distant white-throat's silvery call, long drawn out, floated +from the forest's darkening edge.</p> +<p>The melancholy of the deserted home oppressed me, as though I +had wronged it; the sad little house seemed to be watching me out +of its humble windows, like a patient dog awaiting another blow. +Beacraft's worn coat and threadbare vest, limp and musty as the +garments of a dead man, hung on a peg behind the door. I searched +the pockets with repugnance and found a few papers, which smelled +like the covers of ancient books, memoranda of miserable little +transactions--threepence paid for soling shoes, twopence here, a +penny there; nothing more. I threw the papers on the grass, dipped +up a bucket of well-water, and rinsed my fingers. And always the +tenantless house watched me furtively from its humble windows.</p> +<p>The sun's brassy edge glittered above the blue chain of hills as +I walked across the pasture towards the path that led winding among +the alders to the brook below. I followed it in the deepening +evening light and sat down on a log, watching the water swirling +through the flat stepping-stones where trout were swarming, leaping +for the tiny winged creatures that drifted across the dusky water. +And as I sat there I became aware of sounds like voices; and at +first, seeing no one, I thought the noises came from the low +bubbling monotone of the stream. Then I heard a voice murmuring: "I +will do what you ask me--I will do everything you desire."</p> +<p>Fearful of eavesdropping, I rose, peering ahead to make myself +known, but saw nothing in the deepening dusk. On the point of +calling, the words died on my lips as the same voice sounded again, +close to me:</p> +<p>"I pray you let me have my way. I will obey you. How can you +doubt it? But I must obey in my own way."</p> +<p>And Sir George's deep, pleasant voice answered: "There is danger +to you in this. I could not endure that, Magdalen."</p> +<p>They were on a path parallel to the trail in which I stood, +separated from me by a deep fringe of willow. I could not see them, +though now they were slowly passing abreast of me.</p> +<p>"What do you care for a maid you so easily persuade?" she asked, +with a little laugh that rang pitifully false in the dusk.</p> +<p>"It is her own merciful heart that persuades her," he said, +under his breath.</p> +<p>"I think my heart is merciful," she said--"more merciful than +even I knew. The restless blood in me set me afire when I saw the +wrong done to these patient people of the Long House.... And when +they appealed to me I came here to justify them, and bid them stand +for their own hearths.... And now you come, teaching me the truth +concerning right and wrong, and how God views justice and +injustice; and how this tempest, once loosened, can never be +chained until innocent and guilty are alike ingulfed.... I am very +young to know all these things without counsel.... I needed +aid--and wisdom to teach me--your wisdom. Now, in my turn, I shall +teach; but you must let me teach in my way. There is only one way +that the Long House can be taught.... You do not believe it, but in +this I am wiser than you--I <i>know</i>."</p> +<p>"Will you not tell me what you mean to do, Magdalen?"</p> +<p>"No, Sir George."</p> +<p>"When will you tell me?"</p> +<p>"Never. But you will know what I have done. You will see that I +hold three nations back. What else can you ask? I shall obey you. +What more is there?"</p> +<p>Her voice lingered in the air like an echo of flowing water, +then died away as they moved on, until nothing sounded in the +forest stillness save the low ripple of the stream. An hour later I +picked my way back to the house and saw Sir George standing in the +starlight, and Mount beside him, pointing towards the east.</p> +<p>"I've found the False-Faces' trysting-place," said Mount, +eagerly, as I came up. "I circled and struck the main Iroquois +trail half a mile yonder in the bottom land--a smooth, hard trail, +worn a foot deep, sir. And first comes an Onondaga war-party, +stripped and painted something sickening, and I dogged 'em till +they turned off into the bush to shoot a doe full of arrows--though +all had guns!--and left 'em eating. Then comes three painted +devils, all hung about with witch-drums and rattles, and I tied to +them. And, would you believe it, sir, they kept me on a fox-trot +straight east, then south along a deer-path, till they struck the +Kennyetto at that sulphur spring under the big cliff--you know, Sir +George, where Klock's old line cuts into the Mohawk country?"</p> +<p>"I know," said Sir George.</p> +<p>Mount took off his cap and scratched his ear.</p> +<p>"The forest is full of little heaps of flat stones. I could see +my painted friends with the drums and rattles stop as they ran by, +and each pull a flat stone from the river and add it to the nearest +heap. Then they disappeared in the ravine--and I guess that settles +it, Captain Ormond."</p> +<p>Sir George looked at me, nodding.</p> +<p>"That settles it, Ormond," he said.</p> +<p>I bade Mount cook us something to eat. Sir George looked after +him as he entered the house, then began a restless pacing to and +fro, arms loosely clasped behind him.</p> +<p>"About Magdalen Brant," he said, abruptly. "She will not speak +to the three nations for Butler's party. The child had no idea of +this wretched conspiracy to turn the savages loose in the valley. +She thought our people meant to drive the Iroquois from their own +lands--a black disgrace to us if we ever do!... They implored her +to speak to them in council. Did you know they believe her to be +inspired? Well, they do. When she was a child they got that notion, +and Guy Johnson and Walter Butler have been lying to her and +telling her what to say to the Oneidas and Onondagas."</p> +<p>He turned impatiently, pacing the yard, scowling, and gnawing +his lip.</p> +<p>"Where is she?" I asked.</p> +<p>"She has gone to bed. She would eat nothing. We must take her +back with us to Albany and summon the sachems of the three nations, +with belts."</p> +<p>"Yes," I said, slowly. "But before we leave I must see the +False-Faces."</p> +<p>"Did Schuyler make that a point?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Sir George."</p> +<p>"They say the False-Faces' rites are terrific," he muttered. +"Thank God, that child will not be lured into those hideous orgies +by Walter Butler!"</p> +<p>We walked towards the house where Mount had prepared our food. I +sat down on the door-step to eat my porridge and think of what lay +before me and how best to accomplish it. And at first I was minded +to send Sir George back with Magdalen Brant and take only Mount +with me. But whether it was a craven dread of despatching to +Dorothy the man she was pledged to wed, or whether a desire for his +knowledge and experience prompted me to invite his attendance at +the False-Faces' rites, I do not know clearly, even now. He came +out of the house presently, and I asked him if he would go with +me.</p> +<p>"One of us should stay here with Magdalen Brant," he said, +gravely.</p> +<p>"Is she not safe here?" I asked.</p> +<p>"You cannot leave a child like that absolutely alone," he +answered.</p> +<p>"Then take her to Varicks'," I said, sullenly. "If she remains +here some of Butler's men will be after her to attend the +council."</p> +<p>"You wish me to go up-stairs and rouse her for a +journey--now?"</p> +<p>"Yes; it is best to get her into a safe place," I muttered. "She +may change her ideas, too, betwixt now and dawn."</p> +<p>He re-entered the house. I heard his spurs jingling on the +stairway, then his voice, and a rapping at the door above.</p> +<p>Jack Mount appeared, rifle in hand, wiping his mouth with his +fingers; and together we paced the yard, waiting for Sir George and +Magdalen Brant to set out before we struck the Iroquois trail.</p> +<p>Suddenly Sir George's heavy tread sounded on the stairs; he came +to the door, looking about him, east and west. His features were +pallid and set and seamed with stern lines; he laid an unsteady +hand on my arm and drew me a pace aside.</p> +<p>"Magdalen Brant is gone," he said.</p> +<p>"Gone!" I repeated. "Where?"</p> +<p>"I don't know!" he said, hoarsely.</p> +<p>I stared at him in astonishment. Gone? Where? Into the +tremendous blackness of this wilderness that menaced us on all +sides like a sea? And they had thought to tame her like a +land-blown gull among the poultry!</p> +<p>"Those drops of Mohawk blood are not in her veins for nothing," +I said, bitterly. "Here is our first lesson."</p> +<p>He hung his head. She had lied to him with innocent, smooth +face, as all such fifth-castes lie. No jewelled snake could shed +her skin as deftly as this young maid had slipped from her +shoulders the frail garment of civilization.</p> +<p>The man beside me stood as though stunned. I was obliged to +speak to him thrice ere he roused to follow Jack Mount, who, at a +sign from me, had started across the dark hill-side to guide us to +the trysting-place of the False-Faces' clan.</p> +<p>"Mount," I whispered, as he lingered waiting for us at the +stepping-stones in the dark, "some one has passed this trail since +I stood here an hour ago." And, bending down, I pointed to a high, +flat stepping-stone, which glimmered wet in the pale light of the +stars.</p> +<p>Sir George drew his tinder-box, struck steel to flint, and +lighted a short wax dip.</p> +<p>"Here!" whispered Mount.</p> +<p>On the edge of the sand the dip-light illuminated the small +imprint of a woman's shoe, pointing southeast.</p> +<p>Magdalen Brant had heard the voices in the Long House.</p> +<p>"The mischief is done," said Sir George, steadily. "I take the +blame and disgrace of this."</p> +<p>"No; I take it," said I, sternly. "Step back, Sir George. Blow +out that dip! Mount, can you find your way to that sulphur spring +where the flat stones are piled in little heaps?"</p> +<p>The big fellow laughed. As he strode forward into the depthless +sea of darkness a whippoorwill called.</p> +<p>"That's Elerson, sir," he said, and repeated the call twice.</p> +<p>The rifleman appeared from the darkness, touching his cap to me. +"The horses are safe, sir," he said. "The General desires you to +send your report through Sir George Covert and push forward with +Mount to Stanwix."</p> +<p>He drew a sealed paper from his pouch and handed it to me, +saying that I was to read it.</p> +<p>Sir George lighted his dip once more. I broke the seal and read +my orders under the feeble, flickering light:</p> +<blockquote>"TEMPORARY HEADQUARTERS,<br> +VARICK MANOR,<br> +<i>June I, 1777.</i><br> +<br> +<i>To Captain Ormond, on scout:</i><br> +<br> +Sir,--The General commanding this department desires you to employ +all art and persuasion to induce the Oneidas, Tuscaroras, and +Onondagas to remain quiet. Failing this, you are again reminded +that the capture of Magdalen Brant is of the utmost importance. If +possible, make Walter Butler also prisoner, and send him to Albany +under charge of Timothy Murphy; but, above all, secure the person +of Magdalen Brant and send her to Varick Manor under escort of Sir +George Covert. If, for any reason, you find these orders impossible +of execution, send your report of the False-Faces' council through +Sir George Covert, and push forward with the riflemen Mount, +Murphy, and Elerson until you are in touch with Gansevoort's +outposts at Stanwix. Warn Colonel Gansevoort that Colonel Barry St. +Leger has moved from Oswego, and order out a strong scout towards +Fort Niagara. Although Congress authorizes the employment of +friendly Oneidas as scouts, General Schuyler trusts that you will +not avail yourself of this liberty. <i>Noblesse oblige</i>! The +General directs you to return only when you have carried out these +orders to the best of your ability. You will burn this paper before +you set out for Stanwix. I am, sir,<br> +<br> +"Your most humble and obedient servant,<br> +<br> +"JOHN HARROW,<br> +Major and A.D.C. to the Major-General Commanding.<br> +(Signed) PHILIP SCHUYLER,<br> +Major-General Commanding the Department of the North."</blockquote> +<p>Hot with mortification at the wretched muddle I had already made +of my mission, I thrust the paper into my pouch and turned to +Elerson.</p> +<p>"You know Magdalen Brant?" I asked, impatiently.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> +<p>"There is a chance," I said, "that she may return to that house +on the hill behind us. If she comes back you will see that she does +not leave the house until we return."</p> +<p>Sir George extinguished the dip once more. Mount turned and set +off at a swinging pace along the invisible path; after him strode +Sir George; I followed, brooding bitterly on my stupidity, and +hopeless now of securing the prisoner in whose fragile hands the +fate of the Northland lay.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XV"></a>XV</h2> +<h3>THE FALSE-FACES</h3> +<br> +<p>For a long time we had scented green birch smoke, and now, on +hands and knees, we were crawling along the edge of a cliff, the +roar of the river in our ears, when Mount suddenly flattened out +and I heard him breathing heavily as I lay down close beside +him.</p> +<p>"Look!" he whispered, "the ravine is full of fire!"</p> +<p>A dull-red glare grew from the depths of the ravine; crimson +shadows shook across the wall of earth and rock. Above the roaring +of the stream I heard an immense confused murmur and the smothered +thumping rhythm of distant drumming.</p> +<p>"Go on," I whispered.</p> +<p>Mount crawled forward, Sir George and I after him. The light +below burned redder and redder on the cliff; sounds of voices grew +more distinct; the dark stream sprang into view, crimson under the +increasing furnace glow. Then, as we rounded a heavy jutting crag, +a great light flared up almost in our faces, not out of the +kindling ravine, but breaking forth among the huge pines on the +cliffs.</p> +<p>"Their council-fire!" panted Mount. "See them sitting +there!"</p> +<p>"Flatten out," I whispered. "Follow me!" And I crawled straight +towards the fire, where, ink-black against the ruddy conflagration, +an enormous pine lay uprooted, smashed by lightning or tempest, I +know not which.</p> +<p>Into the dense shadows of the debris I crawled, Mount and Sir +George following, and lay there in the dark, staring at the +forbidden circle where the secret mysteries of the False-Faces had +already begun.</p> +<p>Three great fires roared, set at regular intervals in a cleared +space, walled in by the huge black pines. At the foot of a tree sat +a white man, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. The +man was Walter Butler.</p> +<p>On his right sat Brant, wrapped in a crimson blanket, his face +painted black and scarlet. On his left knelt a ghastly figure +wearing a scowling wooden mask painted yellow and black.</p> +<p>Six separate groups of Indians surrounded the fires. They were +sachems of the Six Nations, each sachem bearing in his hands the +symbol of his nation and of his clan. All were wrapped in +black-and-white blankets, and their faces were painted white above +the upper lip as though they wore skin-tight masks.</p> +<p>Three young girls, naked save for the beaded clout, and painted +scarlet from brow to ankle, beat the witch-drums tump-a-tump! +tump-a-tump! while a fourth stood, erect as a vermilion statue, +holding a chain belt woven in black-and-white wampum.</p> +<p>Behind these central figures the firelight fell on a solid +semicircle of savages, crowns shaved, feathers aslant on the +braided lock, and all oiled and painted for war.</p> +<p>A chief, wrapped in a blue blanket, stepped out into the circle +swinging the carcass of a white dog by the hind-legs. He tied it to +a black-birch sapling and left it dangling and turning round and +round.</p> +<p>"This for the Keepers of the Fires," he said, in Tuscarora, and +flung the dog's entrails into the middle fire.</p> +<p>Three young men sprang into the ring; each threw a log onto one +of the fires.</p> +<p>"The name of the Holder of the Heavens may now be spoken and +heard without offence," said an old sachem, rising. "Hark! +brothers. Harken, O you wise men and sachems! The False-Faces are +laughing in the ravine where the water is being painted with +firelight. I acquaint you that the False-Faces are coming up out of +the ravine!"</p> +<p>The witch-drums boomed and rattled in the silence that followed +his words. Far off I heard the sound of many voices laughing and +talking all together; nearer, nearer, until, torch in hand, a +hideously masked figure bounded into the circle, shaking out his +bristling cloak of green reeds. Another followed, another, then +three, then six, then a dozen, whirling their blazing torches; all +horribly masked and smothered in coarse bunches of long, black +hair, or cloaked with rustling river reeds.</p> +<blockquote>"Ha! Ah-weh-hot-kwah!<br> +Ha! Ah-weh-hah!<br> +Ha! The crimson flower!<br> +Ha! The flower!"</blockquote> +<p>they chanted, thronging around the central fire; then falling +back in a half-circle, torches lifted, while the masked figures +banked solidly behind, chanted monotonously:</p> +<blockquote>"Red fire burns on the maple!<br> +Red fire burns in the pines.<br> +The red flower to the maple!<br> +The red death to the pines!"</blockquote> +<p>At this two young girls, wearing white feathers and white weasel +pelts dangling from shoulders to knees, entered the ring from +opposite ends. Their arms were full of those spectral blossoms +called "Ghost-corn," and they strewed the flowers around the ring +in silence. Then three maidens, glistening in cloaks of green +pine-needles, slipped into the fire circle, throwing showers of +violets and yellow moccasin flowers over the earth, calling out, +amid laughter, "Moccasins for whippoorwills! Violets for the two +heads entangled!" And, their arms empty of blossoms, they danced +away, laughing while the False-Faces clattered their wooden masks +and swung their torches till the flames whistled.</p> +<p>Then six sachems rose, casting off their black-and-white +blankets, and each in turn planted branches of yellow willow, green +willow, red osier, samphire, witch-hazel, spice-bush, and silver +birch along the edge of the silent throng of savages.</p> +<p>"Until the night-sun comes be these your barriers, O Iroquois!" +they chanted. And all answered:</p> +<p>"The Cherry-maid shall lock the gates to the People of the +Morning! A-e! ja-e! Wild cherry and cherry that is red!"</p> +<p>Then came the Cherry-maid, a slender creature, hung from head to +foot with thick bunches of wild cherries which danced and swung +when she walked; and the False-Faces plucked the fruit from her as +she passed around, laughing and tossing her black hair, until she +had been despoiled and only the garment of sewed leaves hung from +shoulder to ankle.</p> +<p>A green blanket was spread for her and she sat down under the +branch of witch-hazel.</p> +<p>"The barrier is closed!" she said. "Kindle your coals from +Onondaga, O you Keepers of the Central Fire!"</p> +<p>An aged sachem arose, and, lifting his withered arm, swept it +eastward.</p> +<p>"The hearth is cleansed," he said, feebly. "Brothers, attend! +She-who-runs is coming. Listen!"</p> +<p>A dead silence fell over the throng, broken only by the rustle +of the flames. After a moment, very far away in the forest, +something sounded like the muffled gallop of an animal, paddy-pad! +paddy-pad, coming nearer and ever nearer.</p> +<p>"It's the Toad-woman!" gasped Mount in my ear. "It's the Huron +witch! Ah! My God! look there!"</p> +<p>Hopping, squattering, half scrambling, half bounding into the +firelight came running a dumpy creature all fluttering with scarlet +rags. A coarse mat of gray hair masked her visage; she pushed it +aside and raised a dreadful face in the red fire-glow--a face so +marred, so horrible, that I felt Mount shivering in the darkness +beside me.</p> +<p>Through the hollow boom-boom of the witch-drums I heard a murmur +swelling from the motionless crowd, like a rising wind in the +pines. The hag heard it too; her mouth widened, splitting her +ghastly visage. A single yellow fang caught the firelight.</p> +<p>"O you People of the Mountain! O you Onondagas!" she cried. "I +am come to ask my Cayugas and my Senecas why they assemble here on +the Kennyetto when their council-fire and yours should burn at +Onondaga! O you Oneidas, People of the Standing Stone! I am come to +ask my Senecas, my Mountain-snakes, why the Keepers of the Iroquois +Fire have let it go out? O you of the three clans, let your ensigns +rise and listen. I speak to the Wolf, the Turtle, and the Bear! And +I call on the seven kindred clans of the Wolf, and the two kindred +clans of the Turtle, and the four kindred clans of the Bear +throughout the Six Nations of the Iroquois confederacy, throughout +the clans of the Lenni-Lenape, throughout the Huron-Algonquins and +their clans!</p> +<p>"And I call on the False-Faces of the Spirit-water and the Water +of Light!"</p> +<p>She shook her scarlet rags and, raising her arm, hurled a +hatchet into a painted post which stood behind the central +fire.</p> +<p>"O you Cayugas, People of the Carrying-place! Strike that +war-post with your hatchets or face the ghosts of your fathers in +every trail!"</p> +<p>There was a deathly silence. Catrine Montour closed her horrible +little eyes, threw back her head, and, marking time with her flat +foot, began to chant.</p> +<p>She chanted the glory of the Long House; of the nations that +drove the Eries, the Hurons, the Algonquins; of the nation that +purged the earth of the Stonish Giants; of the nation that fought +the dreadful battle of the Flying Heads. She sang the triumph of +the confederacy, the bonds that linked the Elder Brothers and Elder +Sons with the Esaurora, whose tongue was the sign of council +unity.</p> +<p>And the circle of savages began to sway in rhythm to her +chanting, answering back, calling their challenge from clan to +clan; until, suddenly, the Senecas sprang to their feet and drove +their hatchets into the war-post, challenging the Lenape with their +own battle-cry:</p> +<p>"Yoagh! Yoagh! Ha-ha! Hagh! Yoagh!"</p> +<p>Then the Mohawks raised their war-yelp and struck the post; and +the Cayugas answered with a terrible cry, striking the post, and +calling out for the Next Youngest Son--meaning the Tuscaroras--to +draw their hatchets.</p> +<p>"Have the Seminoles made women of you?" screamed Catrine +Montour, menacing the sachems of the Tuscaroras with clinched +fists.</p> +<p>"Let the Lenape tell you of women!" retorted a Tuscarora sachem, +calmly.</p> +<p>At this opening of an old wound the Oneidas called on the Lenape +to answer; but the Lenape sat sullen and silent, with flashing eyes +fixed on the Mohawks.</p> +<p>Then Catrine Montour, lashing herself into a fury, screamed for +vengeance on the people who had broken the chain-belt with the Long +House. Raving and frothing, she burst into a torrent of prophecy, +which silenced every tongue and held every Indian fascinated.</p> +<p>"Look!" whispered Mount. "The Oneidas are drawing their +hatchets! The Tuscaroras will follow! The Iroquois will declare for +war!"</p> +<p>Suddenly the False-Faces raised a ringing shout:</p> +<p>"Kree! Ha-ha! Kre-e!"</p> +<p>And a hideous creature in yellow advanced, rattling his yellow +mask.</p> +<p>Catrine Montour, slavering and gasping, leaned against the +painted war-post. Into the fire-ring came dancing a dozen girls, +all strung with brilliant wampum, their bodies and limbs painted +vermilion, sleeveless robes of wild iris hanging to their knees. +With a shout they chanted:</p> +<p>"O False-Faces, prepare to do honor to the truth! She who Dreams +has come from her three sisters--the Woman of the Thunder-cloud, +the Woman of the Sounding Footsteps, the Woman of the Murmuring +Skies!"</p> +<p>And, joining hands, they cried, sweetly: "Come, O Little Rosebud +Woman!--Ke-neance-e-qua! O-gin-e-o-qua!--Woman of the Rose!"</p> +<p>And all together the False-Faces cried: "Welcome to Ta-lu-la, +the leaping waters! Here is I-é-nia, the wanderer's rest! +Welcome, O Woman of the Rose!"</p> +<p>Then the grotesque throng of the False-Faces parted right and +left; a lynx, its green eyes glowing, paced out into the firelight; +and behind the tawny tree-cat came slowly a single figure--a young +girl, bare of breast and arm; belted at the hips with silver, from +which hung a straight breadth of doeskin to the instep of her bare +feet. Her dark hair, parted, fell in two heavy braids to her knees; +her lips were tinted with scarlet; her small ear-lobes and +finger-tips were stained a faint rose-color.</p> +<p>In the breathless silence she raised her head. Sir George's +crushing grip clutched my arm, and he fell a-shuddering like a man +with ague.</p> +<p>The figure before us was Magdalen Brant.</p> +<p>The lynx lay down at her feet and looked her steadily in the +face.</p> +<p>Slowly she raised her rounded arm, opened her empty palm; then +from space she seemed to pluck a rose, and I saw it there between +her forefinger and her thumb.</p> +<p>A startled murmur broke from the throng. "Magic! She plucks +blossoms from the empty air!"</p> +<p>"O you Oneidas," came the sweet, serene voice, "at the tryst of +the False-Faces I have kept my tryst.</p> +<p>"You wise men of the Six Nations, listen now attentively; and +you, ensigns and attestants, attend, honoring the truth which from +my twin lips shall flow, sweetly as new honey and as sap from April +maples."</p> +<p>She stooped and picked from the ground a withered leaf, holding +it out in her small, pink palm.</p> +<p>"Like this withered leaf is your understanding. It is for a maid +to quicken you to life, ... as I restore this last year's leaf to +life," she said, deliberately.</p> +<p>In her open palm the dry, gray leaf quivered, moved, +straightened, slowly turned moist and fresh and green. Through the +intense silence the heavy, gasping breath of hundreds of savages +told of the tension they struggled under.</p> +<p>She dropped the leaf to her feet; gradually it lost its green +and curled up again, a brittle, ashy flake.</p> +<p>"O you Oneidas!" she cried, in that clear voice which seemed to +leave a floating melody in the air, "I have talked with my Sisters +of the Murmuring Skies, and none but the lynx at my feet heard +us."</p> +<p>She bent her lovely head and looked into the creature's blazing +orbs; after a moment the cat rose, took three stealthy steps, and +lay down at her feet, closing its emerald eyes.</p> +<p>The girl raised her head: "Ask me concerning the truth, you +sachems of the Oneida, and speak for the five war-chiefs who stand +in their paint behind you!"</p> +<p>An old sachem rose, peering out at her from dim, aged eyes.</p> +<p>"Is it war, O Woman of the Rose?" he quavered.</p> +<p>"Neah!" she said, sweetly.</p> +<p>An intense silence followed, shattered by a scream from the hag, +Catrine.</p> +<p>"A lie! It is war! You have struck the post, Cayugas! Senecas! +Mohawks! It is a lie! Let this young sorceress speak to the +Oneidas; they are hers; the Tuscaroras are hers, and the Onondagas +and the Lenape! Let them heed her and her dreams and her +witchcraft! It concerns not you, O Mountain-snakes! It concerns +only these and False-Faces! She is their prophetess; let her dream +for them. I have dreamed for you, O Elder Brothers! And I have +dreamed of war!!"</p> +<p>"And I of peace!" came the clear, floating voice, soothing the +harsh echoes of the hag's shrieking appeal. "Take heed, you +Mohawks, and you Cayuga war-chiefs and sachems, that you do no +violence to this council-fire!"</p> +<p>"The Oneidas are women!" yelled the hag.</p> +<p>Magdalen Brant made a curiously graceful gesture, as though +throwing something to the ground from her empty hand. And, as all +looked, something did strike the ground--something that coiled and +hissed and rattled--a snake, crouched in the form of a letter +<i>S</i>; and the lynx turned its head, snarling, every hair +erect.</p> +<p>"Mohawks and Cayugas!" she cried; "are you to judge the +Oneidas?--you who dare not take this rattlesnake in your +hands?"</p> +<p>There was no reply. She smiled and lifted the snake. It coiled +up in her palm, rattling and lifting its terrible head to the level +of her eyes. The lynx growled.</p> +<p>"Quiet!" she said, soothingly. "The snake has gone, O Tahagoos, +my friend. Behold, my hand is empty; Sa-kwe-en-ta, the Fanged One +has gone."</p> +<p>It was true. There was nothing where, an instant before, I +myself had seen the dread thing, crest swaying on a level with her +eyes.</p> +<p>"Will you be swept away by this young witch's magic?" shrieked +Catrine Montour.</p> +<p>"Oneidas!" cried Magdalen Brant, "the way is cleared! Hiro [I +have spoken]!"</p> +<p>Then the sachems of the Oneida stood up, wrapping themselves in +their blankets, and moved silently away, filing into the forest, +followed by the war-chiefs and those who had accompanied the Oneida +delegation as attestants.</p> +<p>"Tuscaroras!" said Magdalen Brant, quietly.</p> +<p>The Tuscarora sachems rose and passed out into the darkness, +followed by their suite of war-chiefs and attestants.</p> +<p>"Onondagas!"</p> +<p>All but two of the Onondaga delegation left the council-fire. +Amid a profound silence the Lenape followed, and in their wake +stalked three tall Mohicans.</p> +<p>Walter Butler sprang up from the base of the tree where he had +been sitting and pointed a shaking finger at Magdalen Brant:</p> +<p>"Damn you!" he shouted; "if you call on my Mohawks, I'll cut +your throat, you witch!"</p> +<p>Brant bounded to his feet and caught Butler's rigid, +outstretched arm.</p> +<p>"Are you mad, to violate a council-fire?" he said, furiously. +Magdalen Brant looked calmly at Butler, then deliberately faced the +sachems.</p> +<p>"Mohawks!" she called, steadily.</p> +<p>There was a silence; Butler's black eyes were almost starting +from his bloodless visage; the hag, Montour, clawed the air in +helpless fury.</p> +<p>"Mohawks!" repeated the girl, quietly.</p> +<p>Slowly a single war-chief rose, and, casting aside his blanket, +drew his hatchet and struck the war-post. The girl eyed him +contemptuously, then turned again and called:</p> +<p>"Senecas!"</p> +<p>A Seneca chief, painted like death, strode to the post and +struck it with his hatchet.</p> +<p>"Cayuga!" called the girl, steadily.</p> +<p>A Cayuga chief sprang at the post and struck it twice.</p> +<p>Roars of applause shook the silence; then a masked figure leaped +towards the central fire, shouting: "The False-Faces' feast! Ho! +Hoh! Ho-ooh!"</p> +<p>In a moment the circle was a scene of terrific excesses. Masked +figures pelted each other with live coals from the fires; dancing, +shrieking, yelping demons leaped about whirling their blazing +torches; witch-drums boomed; chant after chant was raised as new +dancers plunged into the delirious throng, whirling the carcasses +of white dogs, painted with blue and yellow stripes. The nauseating +stench of burned roast meat filled the air, as the False-Faces +brought quarters of venison and baskets of fish into the circle and +dumped them on the coals.</p> +<p>Faster and more furious grew the dance of the False-Faces. The +flying coals flew in every direction, streaming like shooting-stars +across the fringing darkness. A grotesque masker, wearing the +head-dress of a bull, hurled his torch into the air; the flaming +brand lodged in the feathery top of a pine, the foliage caught +fire, and with a crackling rush a vast whirlwind of flame and smoke +streamed skyward from the forest giant.</p> +<p>"To-wen-yon-go [It touches the sky]!" howled the crazed dancers, +leaping about, while faster and faster came the volleys of live +coals, until a young girl's hair caught fire.</p> +<p>"Kah-none-ye-tah-we!" they cried, falling back and forming a +chain-around her as she wrung the sparks from her long hair, +laughing and leaping about between the flying coals.</p> +<p>Then the nine sachems of the Mohawks rose, all covering their +breasts with their blankets, save the chief sachem, who is called +"The Two Voices." The serried circle fell back, Senecas, Cayugas, +and Mohawks shouting their battle-cries; scores of hatchets +glittered, knives flashed.</p> +<p>All alone in the circle stood Magdalen Brant, slim, straight, +motionless as a tinted statue, her hands on her hips. Reflections +of the fires played over her, in amber and pearl and rose; violet +lights lay under her eyes and where the hair shadowed her brow. +Then, through the silence, a loud voice cried: "Little Rosebud +Woman, the False-Faces thank you! Koon-wah-yah-tun-was [They are +burning the white dog]!"</p> +<p>She raised her head and laid a hand on each cheek.</p> +<p>"Neah-wen-ha [I thank you]," she said, softly.</p> +<p>At the word the lynx rose and looked up into her face, then +turned and paced slowly across the circle, green eyes glowing.</p> +<p>The young girl loosened the braids of her hair; a thick, dark +cloud fell over her bare shoulders and breasts.</p> +<p>"She veils her face!" chanted the False-Faces. "Respect the +veil! Adieu, O Woman of the Rose!"</p> +<p>Her hands fell, and, with bent head, moving slowly, pensively, +she passed out of the infernal circle, the splendid lynx stalking +at her heels.</p> +<p>No sooner was she gone than hell itself broke loose among the +False-Faces; the dance grew madder and madder, the terrible rite of +sacrifice was enacted with frightful symbols. Through the awful din +the three war-cries pealed, the drums advanced, thundering; the +iris-maids lighted the six little fires of black-birch, spice-wood, +and sassafras, and crouched to inhale the aromatic smoke until, +stupefied and quivering in every limb with the inspiration of +delirium, they stood erect, writhing, twisting, tossing their hair, +chanting the splendors of the future!</p> +<p>Then into the crazed orgie leaped the Toad-woman like a gigantic +scarlet spider, screaming prophecy and performing the inconceivable +and nameless rites of Ak-e, Ne-ke, and Ge-zis, until, in her +frenzy, she went stark mad, and the devil worship began with the +awful sacrifice of Leshee in Biskoonah.</p> +<p>Horror-stricken, nauseated, I caught Mount's arm, whispering: +"Enough, in God's name! Come away!"</p> +<p>My ears rang with the distracted yelping of the Toad-woman, who +was strangling a dog. Faint, almost reeling, I saw an iris-girl +fall in convulsions; the stupefying smoke blew into my face, +choking me. I staggered back into the darkness, feeling my way +among the unseen trees, gasping for fresh air. Behind me, Mount and +Sir George came creeping, groping like blind men along the +cliffs.</p> +<p>"This way," whispered Mount.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> +<h3>ON SCOUT</h3> +<br> +<p>Like a pursued man hunted through a dream, I labored on, +leaden-limbed, trembling; and it seemed hours and hours ere the +blue starlight broke overhead and Beacraft's dark house loomed +stark and empty on the stony hill.</p> +<p>Suddenly the ghostly call of a whippoorwill broke out from the +willows. Mount answered; Elerson appeared in the path, making a +sign for silence.</p> +<p>"Magdalen Brant entered the house an hour since," he whispered. +"She sits yonder on the door-step. I think she has fallen +asleep."</p> +<p>We stole forward through the dusk towards the silent figure on +the door-step. She sat there, her head fallen back against the +closed door, her small hands lying half open in her lap. Under her +closed eyes the dark circles of fatigue lay; a faint trace of rose +paint still clung to her lips; and from the ragged skirt of her +thorn-rent gown one small foot was thrust, showing a silken shoe +and ankle stained with mud.</p> +<p>There she lay, sleeping, this maid who, with her frail strength, +had split forever the most powerful and ancient confederacy the +world had ever known.</p> +<p>Her superb sacrifice of self, her proud indifference to delicacy +and shame, her splendid acceptance of the degradation, her instant +and fearless execution of the only plan which could save the land +from war with a united confederacy, had left us stunned with +admiration and helpless gratitude.</p> +<p>Had she gone to them as a white woman, using the arts of +civilized persuasion, she could have roused them to war, but she +could not have soothed them to peace. She knew it--even I knew that +among the Iroquois the Ruler of the Heavens can never speak to an +Indian through the mouth of a white woman.</p> +<p>As an Oneida, and a seeress of the False-Faces, she had answered +their appeal. Using every symbol, every ceremony, every art taught +her as a child, she had swayed them, vanquishing with mystery, +conquering, triumphing, <i>as an Oneida</i>, where a single false +step, a single slip, a moment's faltering in her sweet and serene +authority might have brought out the appalling cry of +accusation:</p> +<p>"Her heart is white!"</p> +<p>And not one hand would have been raised to prevent the +sacrificial test which must follow and end inevitably in a dreadful +death.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Mount and Elerson, moved by a rare delicacy, turned and walked +noiselessly away towards the hill-top.</p> +<p>"Wake her," I said to Sir George.</p> +<p>He knelt beside her, looking long into her face; then touched +her lightly on the hand. She opened her eyes, looked up at him +gravely, then rose to her feet, steadying herself on his bent +arm.</p> +<p>"Where have you been?" she asked, glancing anxiously from him to +me. There was the faintest ring of alarm in her voice, a tint of +color on cheek and temple. And Sir George, lying like a gentleman, +answered: "We have searched the trails in vain for you. Where have +you lain hidden, child?"</p> +<p>Her lips parted in an imperceptible sigh of relief; the pallor +of weariness returned.</p> +<p>"I have been upon your business, Sir George," she said, looking +down at her mud-stained garments. Her arms fell to her side; she +made a little gesture with one limp hand. "You see," she said, "I +promised you." Then she turned, mounting the steps, pensively; and, +in the doorway, paused an instant, looking back at him over her +shoulder.</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>And all that night, lying close to the verge of slumber, I heard +Sir George pacing the stony yard under the great stars; while the +riflemen, stretched beside the hearth, snored heavily, and the +death-watch ticked in the wall.</p> +<p>At dawn we three were afield, nosing the Sacandaga trail to +count the tracks leading to the north--the dread footprints of +light, swift feet which must return one day bringing to the Mohawk +Valley an awful reckoning.</p> +<p>At noon we returned. I wrote out my report and gave it to Sir +George. We spoke little together. I did not see Magdalen Brant +again until they bade me adieu.</p> +<p>And now it was two o'clock in the afternoon; Sir George had +already set out with Magdalen Brant to Varicks' by way of Stoner's; +Elerson and Mount stood by the door, waiting to pilot me towards +Gansevoort's distant outposts; the noon sunshine filled the +deserted house and fell across the table where I sat, reading over +my instructions from Schuyler ere I committed the paper to the +flames.</p> +<p>So far, no thanks to myself, I had carried out my orders in all +save the apprehension of Walter Butler. And now I was uncertain +whether to remain and hang around the council-fire waiting for an +opportunity to seize Butler, or whether to push on at once, warn +Gansevoort at Stanwix that St. Leger's motley army had set out from +Oswego, and then return to trap Butler at my leisure.</p> +<p>I crumpled the despatch into a ball and tossed it onto the live +coals in the fireplace; the paper smoked, caught fire, and in a +moment more the black flakes sank into the ashes.</p> +<p>"Shall we burn the house, sir?" asked Mount, as I came to the +doorway and looked out.</p> +<p>I shook my head, picked up rifle, pouch, and sack, and descended +the steps. At the same instant a man appeared at the foot of the +hill, and Elerson waved his hand, saying: "Here's that mad +Irishman, Tim Murphy, back already."</p> +<p>Murphy came jauntily up the hill, saluted me with easy respect, +and drew from his pouch a small packet of papers which he handed +me, nodding carelessly at Elerson and staring hard at Mount as +though he did not recognize him.</p> +<p>"Phwat's this?" he inquired of Elerson--"a Frinch cooroor, or +maybe a Sac shquaw in a buck's shirrt?"</p> +<p>"Don't introduce him to me," said Mount to Elerson; "he'll try +to kiss my hand, and I hate ceremony."</p> +<p>"Quit foolin'," said Elerson, as the two big, over-grown boys +seized each other and began a rough-and-tumble frolic. "You're just +cuttin' capers, Tim, becuz you've heard that we're takin' the +war-path--quit pullin' me, you big Irish elephant! Is it true we're +takin' the war-path?"</p> +<p>"How do I know?" cried Murphy; but the twinkle in his blue eyes +betrayed him; "bedad, 'tis home to the purty lasses we go this +blessed day, f'r the crool war is over, an' the King's got the pip, +an--"</p> +<p>"Murphy!" I said.</p> +<p>"Sorr," he replied, letting go of Mount and standing at a +respectful slouch.</p> +<p>"Did you get Beacraft there in safety?"</p> +<p>"I did, sorr."</p> +<p>"Any trouble?"</p> +<p>"None, sorr--f'r <i>me</i>."</p> +<p>I opened the first despatch, looking at him keenly.</p> +<p>"Do we take the war-path?" I asked.</p> +<p>"We do, sorr," he said, blandly. "McDonald's in the hills wid +the McCraw an'ten score renegades. Wan o' their scouts struck old +man Schell's farm an' he put buckshot into sivinteen o' them, or +I'm a liar where I shtand!"</p> +<p>"I knew it," muttered Elerson to Mount. "Where you see smoke, +there's fire; where you see Murphy, there's trouble. Look at the +grin on him--and his hatchet shined up like a Cayuga's +war-axe!"</p> +<p>I opened the despatch; it was from Schuyler, countermanding his +instructions for me to go to Stanwix, and directing me to warn +every settlement in the Kingsland district that McDonald and some +three hundred Indians and renegades were loose on the Schoharie, +and that their outlying scouts had struck Broadalbin.</p> +<p>I broke the wax of the second despatch; it was from Harrow, +briefly thanking me for the capture of Beacraft, adding that the +man had been sent to Albany to await court-martial.</p> +<p>That meant that Beacraft must hang; a most disagreeable feeling +came over me, and I tore open the third and last paper, a bulky +document, and read it:</p> +<blockquote>"VARICK MANOR,<br> +"<i>June the 2d.<br> +"An hour to dawn</i>.<br> +<br> +"In my bedroom I am writing to you the adieu I should have said the +night you left. Murphy, a rifleman, goes to you with despatches in +an hour: he will take this to you, ... wherever you are.<br> +<br> +"I saw the man you sent in. Father says he must surely hang. He was +so pale and silent, he looked so dreadfully tired--and I have been +crying a little--I don't know why, because all say he is a great +villain.<br> +<br> +"I wonder whether you are well and whether you remember me." ("me" +was crossed out and "us" written very carefully.) "The house is so +strange without you. I go into your room sometimes. Cato has +pressed all your fine clothes. I go into your room to read. The +light is very good there. I am reading the <i>Poems of Pansard</i>. +You left a fern between the pages to mark the poem called 'Our +Deaths'; did you know it? Do you admire that verse? It seems sad to +me. And it is not true, either. Lovers seldom die together." (This +was crossed out, and the letter went on.) "Two people who love--" +("love" was crossed out heavily and the line continued)--"two +friends seldom die at the same instant. Otherwise there would be no +terror in death.<br> +<br> +"I forgot to say that Isene, your mare, is very well. Papa and the +children are well, and Ruyven a-pestering General Schuyler to make +him a cornet in the legion of horse, and Cecile, all airs, goes +about with six officers to carry her shawl and fan.<br> +<br> +"For me--I sit with Lady Schuyler when I have the opportunity. I +love her; she is so quiet and gentle and lets me sit by her for +hours, perfectly silent. Yesterday she came into your room, where I +was sitting, and she looked at me for a long time--so +strangely--and I asked her why, and she shook her head. And after +she had gone I arranged your linen and sprinkled lavender among +it.<br> +<br> +"You see there is so little to tell you, except that in the +afternoon some Senecas and Tories shot at one of our distant +tenants, a poor man, one Christian Schell; and he beat them off and +killed eleven, which was very brave, and one of the soldiers made a +rude song about it, and they have been singing it all night in +their quarters. I heard them from your room--where I sometimes +sleep--the air being good there; and this is what they sang: +<blockquote>"'A story, a story<br> + Unto you I will tell,<br> +Concerning a brave hero,<br> + One Christian Schell.<br> +<br> +"'Who was attacked by the savages.<br> + And Tories, it is said;<br> +But for this attack<br> + Most freely they bled.<br> +<br> +"'He fled unto his house<br> + For to save his life.<br> +Where he had left his arms<br> + In care of his wife.<br> +<br> +"'They advanced upon him<br> + And began to fire,<br> +But Christian with his blunderbuss<br> + Soon made them retire.<br> +<br> +"'He wounded Donald McDonald<br> + And drew him in the door,<br> +Who gave an account<br> + Their strength was sixty-four.<br> +<br> +"'Six there was wounded<br> + And eleven there was killed<br> +Of this said party,<br> + Before they quit the field.'</blockquote> +"And I think there are a hundred other verses, which I will spare +you; not that I forget them, for the soldiers sang them over and +over, and I had nothing better to do than to lie awake and +listen.<br> +<br> +"So that is all. I hear my messenger moving about below; I am to +drop this letter down to him, as all are asleep, and to open the +big door might wake them.<br> +<br> +"Good-bye.<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +"It was not my rifleman, only the sentry. They keep double watch +since the news came about Schell. "Good-bye. I am thinking of +you.<br> +<br> +"DOROTHY.<br> +<br> +"Postscript.--Please make my compliments and adieux to Sir George +Covert.<br> +<br> +"Postscript.--The rifleman is here; he is whistling like a +whippoorwill. I must say good-bye. I am mad to go with him. Do not +forget me!<br> +<br> +"My memories are so keen, so pitilessly real, I can scarce endure +them, yet cling to them the more desperately.<br> +<br> +"I did not mean to write this--truly I did not! But here, in the +dusk, I can see your face just as it looked when you said +good-bye!--so close that I could take it in my arms despite my vows +and yours!<br> +<br> +"Help me to reason; for even God cannot, or will not, help me; +knowing, perhaps, the dreadful after-life He has doomed me to for +all eternity. If it is true that marriages are made in heaven, +where was mine made? Can you answer? I cannot. (<i>The whimper of +the whippoorwill again!</i>) Dearest, good-bye. Where my body lies +matters nothing so that you hold my soul a little while. Yet, even +of that they must rob you one day. Oh, if even in dying there is no +happiness, where, where does it abide? Three places only have I +heard of: the world, heaven, and hell. God forgive me, but I think +the last could cover all.<br> +<br> +"Say that you love me! Say it to the forest, to the wind. Perhaps +my soul, which follows you, may hear if you only say it. (<i>Once +more the ghost-call of the whippoorwill!</i>) Dear lad, +good-bye!"</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> +<h3>THE FLAG</h3> +<br> +<p>Day after day our little scout of four traversed the roads and +forests of the Kingsland district, warning the people at the +outlying settlements and farms that the county militia-call was +out, and that safety lay only in conveying their families to the +forts and responding to the summons of authority without delay.</p> +<p>Many obeyed; some rash or stubborn settlers prepared to defend +their homes. A few made no response, doubtless sympathizing with +their Tory friends who had fled to join McDonald or Sir John +Johnson in the North.</p> +<p>Rumors were flying thick, every settlement had its full covey; +every cross-road tavern buzzed with gossip. As we travelled from +settlement to settlement, we, too, heard something of what had +happened in distant districts: how the Schoharie militia had been +called out; how one Huetson had been captured as he was gathering a +band of Tories to join the Butlers; how a certain Captain Ball had +raised a company of sixty-three royalists at Beaverdam and was fled +to join Sir John; how Captain George Mann, of the militia, refused +service, declaring himself a royalist, and disbanding his company; +how Adam Crysler had thrown his important influence in favor of the +King, and that the inhabitants of Tryon County were gloomy and +depressed, seeing so many respectable gentlemen siding with the +Tories.</p> +<p>We learned that the Schoharie and Schenectady militia had +refused to march unless some provision was made to protect their +families in their absence; that Congress had therefore established +a corps of invalids, consisting of eight companies, each to have +one captain, two lieutenants, two ensigns, five sergeants, six +corporals, two drums, two fifes, and one hundred men; one company +to be stationed in Schoharie, and to be called the "Associate +Exempts"; that three forts for the protection of the Schoharie +Valley were nearly finished, called the Upper, Lower, and Middle +forts.</p> +<p>More sinister still were the rumors from the British armies: +Burgoyne was marching on Albany from the north with the finest +train of artillery ever seen in America; St. Leger was moving from +the west; McDonald had started already, flinging out his Indian +scouts as far as Perth and Broadalbin, and Sir Henry Clinton had +gathered a great army at New York and was preparing to sweep the +Hudson Valley from Fishkill to Albany. And the focus of these three +armies and of Butler's, Johnson's, and McDonald's renegades and +Indians was this unhappy county of Tryon, torn already with +internal dissensions; unarmed, unprovisioned, unorganized, almost +ungarrisoned.</p> +<p>I remember, one rainy day towards sunset, coming into a small +hamlet where, in front of the church, some score of farmers and +yokels were gathered, marshalled into a single line. Some were +armed with rifles, some with blunderbusses, some with spears and +hay-forks. None wore uniform. As we halted to watch the pathetic +array, their fifer and drummer wheeled out and marched down the +line, playing Yankee Doodle. Then the minister laid down his +blunderbuss and, facing the company, raised his arms in prayer, +invoking the "God of Armies" as though he addressed his +supplication before a vast armed host.</p> +<p>Murphy strove to laugh, but failed; Mount muttered vaguely under +his breath; Elerson gnawed his lips and bent his bared head while +the old man finished his prayer to "The God of Armies!" then picked +up his blunderbuss and limped to his place in the scanty file.</p> +<p>And again I remember one fresh, sweet morning late in June, +standing with my riflemen at a toll-gate to see some four hundred +Tryon County militia marching past on their way to Unadilla on the +Susquehanna, where Brant, with half a thousand savages, had +consented to a last parley. Stout, wholesome lads they were, these +Tryon County men; wearing brown and yellow uniforms cut smartly, +and their officers in the Continental buff and blue, riding like +regulars; curved swords shining and their epaulets striking fire in +the sunshine.</p> +<p>"Palatines!" said Mount, standing to salute as an officer rode +by. "That's General Herkimer--old Honikol Herkimer--with his hard, +weather-tanned jaws and the devil lurking under his eyebrows; and +that young fellow in his smart uniform is Colonel Cox, old George +Klock's son-in-law; and yonder rides Colonel Harper! Oh, I know +'em, sir; I was not in these parts for nothing in '74 and '75!"</p> +<p>The drums and fifes were playing "Unadilla" as the regiment +marched past; and my riflemen, lounging along the roadside, +exchanged pleasantries with the hardy Palatines, or greeted +acquaintances in their impudent, bantering manner:</p> +<p>"Hello! What's this Low Dutch regiment? Say, Han Yost, the pigs +has eat off your queue-band! Bedad, they marrch like Albany ducks +in fly-time! Musha, thin, luk at the fat dhrummer laad! Has he +apples in thim two cheeks, Jack? I dunnoa! Hey, there goes Wagner! +Hello, Wagner! Wisha, laad, ye're cross-eyed an' shquint-lipped +a-playin' yere fife hind-end furrst!"</p> +<p>And the replies from the dusty, brown ranks, steadily +passing:</p> +<p>"Py Gott! dere's Jack Mount! Look alretty, Jacob! Hello, +Elerson! Ish dot true you patch your breeches mit second-hand +scalps you puy in Montreal? Vat you vas doing down here, Tim +Murphy? Oh, joost look at dem devils of Morgan! Sure, Emelius, dey +joost come so soon as ve go. Ya! Dey come to kiss our girls, py +cricky! Uf I catch you round my girl alretty, Dave Elerson--"</p> +<p>"Silence! Silence in the ranks!" sang out an officer, riding up. +The brown column passed on, the golden dust hanging along its +flanks. Far ahead we could still hear the drums and fifes playing +"Unadilla."</p> +<p>"They ought to have a flag; a flag's a good thing to fight for," +said Mount, looking after them. "I fought for the damned British +rag when I was fifteen. Lord! it makes me boil to think that +they've forgot what we did for 'em!"</p> +<p>"We Virginians carried a flag at the siege o' Boston," observed +Elerson. "It was a rattlesnake on a white ground, with the motto, +'Don't tread on me!'"</p> +<p>I told them of the new flag that our Congress had chosen, +describing it in detail. They listened attentively, but made no +comment.</p> +<p>It was on these expeditions that I learned something of these +rough riflemen which I had not suspected--their passionate devotion +to the forest. What the sea is to mariners, the endless, uncharted +wilderness was to these forest runners; they loved and hated it, +they suspected and trusted it. A forest voyage finished, they +steered for the nearest port with all the eager impatience of +sea-cloyed sailors. Yet, scarcely were they anchored in some +frontier haven than they fell to dreaming of the wilderness, of the +far silences in the trackless sea of trees, of the winds ruffling +the forest's crests till ten thousand trees toss their leaves, +silver side up, as white-caps flash, rolling in long patches on a +heaving waste of waters.</p> +<p>Yet, in all those weeks I never heard one word or hint of that +devotion expressed or implied, not one trace of appreciation, not +one shadow of sentiment. If I ventured to speak of the vast beauty +of the woods, there was no response from my shy companions; one +appeared to vie with another in concealing all feeling under a +careless mask and a bantering manner.</p> +<p>Once only can I recall a voluntary expression of pleasure in +beauty; it came from Jack Mount, one blue night in July, when the +heavens flashed under summer stars till the vaulted skies seemed +plated solidly with crusted gems.</p> +<p>"Them stars look kind of nice," he said, then colored with +embarrassment and spat a quid of spruce-gum into the camp-fire.</p> +<p>Yet humanity demands some outlet for accumulated sentiment, and +these men found it in the dirge-like songs and laments and rude +ballads of the wilderness, which I think bear a close resemblance +to the sailor-men's songs, in words as well as in the dolorous +melodies, fit only for the scraping whine of a two-string fiddle in +a sugar-camp.</p> +<p>The magic of June faded from the forests, smothered under the +magnificent and deeper glory of July's golden green; the early +summer ripened into August, finding us still afoot in the Kingsland +district gathering in the loyal, warning the rash, comforting the +down-cast, threatening the suspected. Twice, by expresses bound for +Saratoga, I sent full reports to Schuyler, but received no further +orders. I wondered whether he was displeased at my failure to +arrest Walter Butler; and we redoubled our efforts to gain news of +him. Three times we heard of his presence in or near the Kingsland +district: once at Tribes Hill, once at Fort Plain, and once it was +said he was living quietly in a farm-house near Johnstown, which he +had the effrontery to enter in broad daylight. But we failed to +come up with him, and to this day I do not know whether any of this +information we received was indeed correct. It was the first day of +August when we heard of Butler's presence near Johnstown; we had +been lying at a tavern called "The Brick House," a two-story inn +standing where the Albany and Schenectady roads fork near Fox +Creek, and there had been great fear of McDonald's renegades that +week, and I had advised the despatch of an express to Albany asking +for troops to protect the valley when I chanced to overhear a woman +say that firing had been heard in the direction of Stanwix.</p> +<p>The woman, a slattern, who was known by the unpleasant name of +Rya's Pup, declared that Walter Butler had gone to Johnstown to +join St. Leger before Stanwix, and that the Tories would give the +rebels such a drubbing that we would all be crawling on our bellies +yelling for quarter this day week. As the wench was drunk, I made +little of her babble; but the next day Murphy and Elerson, having +been in touch with Gansevoort's outposts, returned to me with a +note from Colonel Willett:</p> +<blockquote>"FORT SCHUYLER (STANWIX),<br> +"<i>August 2d</i>,<br> +"DEAR SIR,--I transmit to you the contents of a letter from Colonel +Gansevoort, dated July 28th:<br> +<br> +"' Yesterday, at three o'clock in the afternoon, our garrison was +alarmed with the firing of four guns. A party of men was instantly +despatched to the place where the guns were fired, which was in the +edge of the woods, about five hundred yards from the fort; but they +were too late. The villains were fled, after having shot three +young girls who were out picking raspberries, two of whom were +lying scalped and tomahawked; one dead and the other expiring, who +died in about half an hour after she was brought home. The third +had a bullet through her face, and crawled away, lying hid until we +arrived. It was pitiful. The child may live, but has lost her +mind.<br> +<br> +"'This was accomplished by a scout of sixteen Tories of Colonel +John Butler's command and two savages, Mohawks, all under direction +of Captain Walter Butler.'<br> +<br> +"This, sir, is a revised copy of Colonel Gansevoort's letter to +Colonel Van Schaick. Permit me to add, with the full approval of +Colonel Gansevoort, that the scout under your command warns the +militia at Whitestown of the instant approach of Colonel Barry St. +Leger's regular troops, reinforced by Sir John Johnson's regiment +of Royal Greens, Colonel Butler's Rangers, McCraw's outlaws, and +seven hundred Mohawk, Seneca, and Cayuga warriors under Brant and +Walter Butler. I will add, sir, that we shall hold this fort to the +end. Respectfully,<br> +<br> +"MARINUS WlLLETT,<br> +Lieutenant-Colonel."</blockquote> +<p>Standing knee-deep in the thick undergrowth, I read this letter +aloud to my riflemen, amid a shocked silence; then folded it for +transmission to General Schuyler when opportunity might offer, and +signed Murphy to lead forward.</p> +<p>So Rya's Pup was right. Walter Butler had made his first mark on +the red Oswego trail!</p> +<p>We marched in absolute silence, Murphy leading, every nerve on +edge, straining eye and ear for a sign of the enemy's scouts, now +doubtless swarming forward and to cover the British advance.</p> +<p>But the wilderness is vast, and two armies might pass each other +scarcely out of hail and never know.</p> +<p>Towards sundown I caught my first glimpse of a hostile Iroquois +war-party. We had halted behind some rocks on a heavily timbered +slope, and Mount was scrutinizing the trail below, where a little +brook crossed it, flowing between mossy stones; when, without +warning, a naked Mohawk stalked into the trail, sprang from rock to +rock, traversing the bed of the brook like a panther, then leaped +lightly into the trail again and moved on. After him, in file, +followed some thirty warriors, naked save for the clout, all oiled +and painted, and armed with rifles. One or two glanced up along our +slope while passing, but a gesture from the leader hastened their +steps, and more quickly than I can write it they had disappeared +among the darkening shadows of the towering timber.</p> +<p>"Bad luck!" breathed Murphy; "'tis a rocky road to Dublin, but a +shorter wan to hell! Did you want f'r to shoot, Jack? Look at Dave +Elerson an' th' thrigger finger av him twitchin' all a-thremble! +Wisha, lad! lave the red omadhouns go. Arre you tired o' the hair +ye wear, Jack Mount? Come on out o' this, ye crazy divil!"</p> +<p>Circling the crossing-place, we swung east, then south, coming +presently to a fringe of trees through which the red sunset +glittered, illuminating a great stretch of swamp, river, and +cleared land beyond. "Yonder's the foort," whispered Murphy--"ould +Stanwix--or Schuyler, as they call it now. Step this way, sorr; ye +can see it plain across the Mohawk shwamps."</p> +<p>The red sunshine struck the three-cornered bastions of the +rectangular fort; a distant bayonet caught the light and twinkled +above the stockaded ditch like a slender point of flame. Outside +the works squads of troops moved, relieving the nearer posts; +working details, marching to and from the sawmill, were evidently +busy with the unfinished abattis; a long, low earth-work, +surmounted by a stockade and a block-house, which. Murphy said, +guarded the covered way to the creek, swarmed with workmen plying +pick and shovel and crowbar, while the sentries walked their beats +above, watching the new road which crossed the creek and ran +through the swamp to the sawmill.</p> +<p>"It is strange," said Mount, "that they have not yet finished +the fort."</p> +<p>"It is stranger yet," said Elerson, "that they should work so +close to the forest yonder. Look at that fatigue-party drawing logs +within pistol-shot of the woods--"</p> +<p>Before the rifleman could finish, a sentinel on the northwest +parapet fired his musket; the entire scene changed in a twinkling; +the fatigue-party scattered, dropping chains and logs; the workmen +sprang out of ditch and pit, running for the stockade; a man, +driving a team of horses along the new road, jumped up in his wagon +and lashed his horses to a gallop across the rough meadow; and I +saw the wagon swaying and bumping up the slope, followed by a squad +of troops on the double. Behind these ran a dozen men driving some +frightened cattle; soldiers swarmed out on the bastions, soldiers +flung open the water gates, soldiers hung over parapets, +gesticulating and pointing westward.</p> +<p>Suddenly from the bastion on the west angle of the fort a shaft +of flame leaped; a majestic cloud buried the parapet, and the deep +cannon-thunder shook the evening air. Above the writhing smoke, now +stained pink in the sunset light, a flag crept jerkily up the +halyards of a tall flag-staff, higher, higher, until it caught the +evening wind aloft and floated lazily out.</p> +<p>"It's the new flag," whispered Elerson, in an awed voice.</p> +<p>We stared at it, fascinated. Never before had the world seen +that flag displayed. Blood-red and silver-white the stripes +rippled; the stars on the blue field glimmered peacefully. There it +floated, serene above the drifting cannon--smoke, the first +American flag ever hoisted on earth. A freshening wind caught it, +blowing strong out of the flaming west; the cannon-smoke eddied, +settled, and curled, floating across its folds. Far away we heard a +faint sound from the bastions. They were cheering.</p> +<p>Cap in hand I stood, eyes never leaving the flag; Mount +uncovered, Elerson and Murphy drew their deer-skin caps from their +heads in silence.</p> +<p>After a little while we caught the glimmer of steel along the +forest's edge; a patch of scarlet glowed in the fading rays of +sunset. Then, out into the open walked a red-coated officer bearing +a white flag and attended by a drummer in green and scarlet.</p> +<p>Far across the clearing we heard drums beating the parley; and +we knew the British were at the gates of Stanwix, and that St. +Leger had summoned the garrison to surrender.</p> +<p>We waited; the white flag entered the stockade gate, only to +reappear again, quickly, as though the fort's answer to the summons +had been brief and final. Scarcely had the ensign reached the +forest than bang! bang! bang! bang! echoed the muskets, and the +rifles spat flame into the deepening dusk and the dark woods rang +with the war-yell of half a thousand Indians stripped for the last +battles that the Long House should ever fight.</p> +<p>About ten o'clock that night we met a regiment of militia on the +Johnstown road, marching noisily north towards Whitestown, and +learned that General Herkimer's brigade was concentrating at an +Oneida hamlet called Oriska, only eight miles by the river highway +from Stanwix, and a little to the east of Oriskany creek. An +officer named Van Slyck also informed me that an Oneida interpreter +had just come in, reporting St. Leger's arrival before Stanwix, and +warning Herkimer that an ambuscade had been prepared for him should +he advance to raise the siege of the beleaguered fort.</p> +<p>Learning that we also had seen the enemy at Stanwix, this +officer begged us to accompany him to Oriska, where our information +might prove valuable to General Herkimer. So I and my three +riflemen fell in as the troops tramped past; and I, for one, was +astonished to hear their drums beating so loudly in the enemy's +country, and to observe the careless indiscipline in the ranks, +where men talked loudly and their reckless laughter often sounded +above the steady rolling of the drums.</p> +<p>"Are there no officers here to cuff their ears!" muttered Mount, +in disgust.</p> +<p>"Bah!" sneered Elerson; "officers can't teach militia--only a +thrashing does 'em any good. After all, our people are like the +British, full o' contempt for untried enemies. Do you recall how +the red-coats went swaggering about that matter o' Bunker Hill? +They make no more frontal attacks now, but lay ambuscades, and +thank their stars for the opportunity."</p> +<p>A soldier, driving an ox-team behind us, began to sing that +melancholy ballad called "St. Clair's Defeat." The entire company +joined in the chorus, bewailing the late disaster at Ticonderoga, +till Jack Mount, nigh frantic with disgust, leaped up into the cart +and bawled out:</p> +<p>"If you must sing, damn you, I'll give something that +rings!"</p> +<p>And he lifted his deep, full-throated voice, sounding the +marching song of "Morgan's Men."</p> +<blockquote>"The Lord He is our rampart and our buckler and our +shield!<br> +We must aid Him cleanse His temple; we must follow Him afield.<br> +To His wrath we leave the guilty, for their punishment is sure;<br> +To His justice the downtrodden, for His mercy shall +endure!"</blockquote> +<p>And out of the darkness the ringing chorus rose, sweeping the +column from end to end, and the echoing drums crashed amen!</p> +<p>Yet there is a time for all things--even for praising God.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> +<h3>ORISKANY</h3> +<br> +<p>It is due, no doubt, to my limited knowledge of military matters +and to my lack of practical experience that I did not see the +battle of Oriskany as our historians have recorded it; nor did I, +before or during the affair, notice any intelligent effort towards +assuming the offensive as described by those whose reports portray +an engagement in which, after the first onset, some semblance of +military order reigned.</p> +<p>So, as I do not feel at liberty to picture Oriskany from the +pens of abler men, I must be content to describe only what I myself +witnessed of that sad and unnecessary tragedy.</p> +<p>For three days we had been camped near the clearing called +Oriska, which is on the south bank of the Mohawk. Here the +volunteers and militia of Tryon County were concentrating from Fort +Dayton in the utmost disorder, their camps so foolishly pitched, so +slovenly in those matters pertaining to cleanliness and health, so +inadequately guarded, that I saw no reason why our twin enemies, +St. Leger and disease, should not make an end of us ere we sighted +the ramparts of Stanwix.</p> +<p>All night long the volunteer soldiery had been in-subordinate +and riotous in the hamlet of Oriska, thronging the roads, shouting, +singing, disputing, clamoring to be led against the enemy. Popular +officers were cheered, unpopular officers jeered at, angry voices +raised outside headquarters, demanding to know why old Honikol +Herkimer delayed the advance. Even officers shouted, "Forward! +forward! Wake up Honikol!" And spoke of the old General derisively, +even injuriously, to their own lasting disgrace.</p> +<p>Towards dawn, when I lay down on the floor of a barn to sleep, +the uproar had died out in a measure; but lights still flickered in +the camp where soldiers were smoking their pipes and playing cards +by the flare of splinter-wood torches. As for the pickets, they +paid not the slightest attention to their duties, continually +leaving their posts to hobnob with neighbors; and the indiscipline +alarmed me, for what could one expect to find in men who roamed +about where it pleased them, howling their dissatisfaction with +their commander, and addressing their officers by their first +names?</p> +<p>At eight o'clock on that oppressive August morning, while +writing a letter to my cousin Dorothy, which an Oneida had promised +to deliver, he being about to start with a message to Governor +Clinton, I was interrupted by Jack Mount, who came into the barn, +saying that a company of officers were quarrelling in front of the +sugar-shack occupied as headquarters.</p> +<p>I folded my letter, sealed it with a bit of blue balsam gum, and +bade Mount deliver it to the Oneida runner, while I stepped up the +road.</p> +<p>Of all unseemly sights that I have ever had the misfortune to +witness, what I now saw was the most shameful. I pushed and +shouldered my way through a riotous mob of soldiers and teamsters +which choked the highway; loud, angry voices raised in reproach or +dispute assailed my ears. A group of militia officers were +shouting, shoving, and gesticulating in front of the tent where, +rigid in his arm-chair, the General sat, grim, narrow-eyed, silent, +smoking a short clay pipe. Bolt upright, behind him, stood his +chief scout and interpreter, a superb Oneida, in all the splendor +of full war-paint, blazing with scarlet.</p> +<p>Colonel Cox, a swaggering, intrusive, loud-voiced, and smartly +uniformed officer, made a sign for silence and began haranguing the +old man, evidently as spokesman for the party of impudent +malcontents grouped about him. I heard him demand that his men be +led against the British without further delay. I heard him condemn +delay as unreasonable and unwarrantable, and the terms of speech he +used were unbecoming to an officer.</p> +<p>"We call on you, sir, in the name of Tryon County, to order us +forward!" he said, loudly. "We are ready. For God's sake give the +order, sir! There is no time to waste, I tell you!"</p> +<p>The old General removed the pipe from his teeth and leaned a +little forward in his chair.</p> +<p>"Colonel Cox," he said, "I haff Adam Helmer to Stanvix sent, mit +der opject of inviting Colonel Gansevoort to addack py de rear ven +ve addack py dot left flank.</p> +<p>"So soon as Helmer comes dot fort py, Gansevoort he fire cannon; +und so soon I hear cannon, I march! Not pefore, sir; not +pefore!"</p> +<p>"How do we know that Helmer and his men will ever reach +Stanwix?" shouted Colonel Paris, impatiently.</p> +<p>"Ve vait, und py un' py ve know," replied Herkimer, +undisturbed.</p> +<p>"He may be dead and scalped by now," sneered Colonel +Visscher.</p> +<p>"Look you, Visscher," said the old General; "it iss I who am +here to answer for your safety. Now comes Spencer, my Oneida, mit a +pelt, who svears to me dot Brant und Butler an ambuscade haff made +for me. Vat I do? Eh? I vait for dot sortie? Gewiss!"</p> +<p>He waved his short pipe.</p> +<p>"For vy am I an ass to march me py dot ambuscade? Such a +foolishness iss dot talk! I stay me py Oriskany till I dem cannon +hear."</p> +<p>A storm of insolent protest from the mob of soldiers greeted his +decision; the officers gesticulated and shouted insultingly, +shoving forward to the edge of the porch. Fists were shaken at him, +cries of impatience and contempt rose everywhere. Colonel Paris +flung his sword on the ground. Colonel Cox, crimson with anger, +roared: "If you delay another moment the blood of Gansevoort's men +be on your head!"</p> +<p>Then, in the tumult, a voice called out: "He's a Tory! We are +betrayed!" And Colonel Cox shouted: "He dares not march! He is a +coward!"</p> +<p>White to the lips, the old man sprang from his chair, narrow +eyes ablaze, hands trembling. Colonel Bellinger and Major Frey +caught him by the arm, begging him to remain firm in his +decision.</p> +<p>"Py Gott, no!" he thundered, drawing his sword. "If you vill +haff it so, your blood be on your heads! Vorwärts!"</p> +<p>It is not for me to blame him in his wrath, when, beside himself +with righteous fury, he gave the bellowing yokels their heads and +swept on with them to destruction. The mutinous fools who had +called him coward and traitor fell back as their outraged commander +strode silently through the disordered ranks, noticing neither the +proffered apologies of Colonel Paris nor the stammered excuses of +Colonel Cox. Behind him stalked the tall Oneida, silent, stern, +small eyes flashing. And now began the immense uproar of departure; + confused officers ran about cursing and shouting;<br> +the smashing roll of the drums broke out, beating the assembly; +teamsters rushed to harness horses; dismayed soldiers pushed and +struggled through the mass, searching for their regiments and +companies.</p> +<p>Mounted on a gaunt, gray horse, the General rode through the +disorder, quietly directing the incompetent militia officers in +their tasks of collecting their men; and behind him, splendidly +horsed and caparisoned, cantered the tall Oneida, known as Thomas +Spencer the Interpreter, calm, composed, inscrutable eyes fixed on +his beloved leader and friend.</p> +<p>The drums of the Canajoharie regiment were beating as the +drummers swung past me, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, sweat +pouring down their sunburned faces; then came Herkimer, all alone, +sitting his saddle like a rock, the flush of anger still staining +his weather-ravaged visage, his small, wrathful eyes fixed on the +north.</p> +<p>Behind him rode Colonels Cox and Paris, long, heavy swords +drawn, heading the Canajoharie regiment, which pressed forward +excitedly. The remaining regiments of Tryon County militia +followed, led by Colonel Seeber, Colonel Bellenger, Majors Frey, +Eisenlord, and Van Slyck. Then came the baggage-wagons, some drawn +by oxen, some by four horses; and in the rear of these rode Colonel +Visscher, leading the Caughnawaga regiment, closing the dusty +column.</p> +<p>"Damn them!" growled Elerson to Murphy, "they're advancing +without flanking-parties or scouts. I wish Dan'l Morgan was +here."</p> +<p>"'Tis th' Gineral's jooty to luk out f'r his throops, not Danny +Morgan's or mine," replied the big rifleman in disgust.</p> +<p>The column halted. I signalled my men to follow me and hastened +along the flanks under a fire of chaff: "Look at young buckskins! +There go Morgan's macaronis! God help the red-coats this day! How's +the scalp trade, son?"</p> +<p>Herkimer was sitting his horse in the middle of the road as I +came up; and he scowled down at me when I gave him the officer's +salute and stood at attention beside his stirrup.</p> +<p>"Veil, you can shpeak," he said, bluntly; "efery-body shpeaks +but me!"</p> +<p>I said that I and my riflemen were at his disposal if he desired +leaders for flanking-parties or scouts; and his face softened as he +listened, looking down at me in silence.</p> +<p>"Sir," he said, "it iss to my shame I say dot my sodgers command +me, not I my sodgers."</p> +<p>Then, looking back at Colonel Cox, he added, bitterly:</p> +<p>"I haff ordered flanking-parties and scouts, but my officers, +who know much more than I, haff protested against dot useless vaste +of time. I thank you, sir; I can your offer not accept."</p> +<p>The drums began again; the impatient Palatine regiment moved +forward, yelling their approval, and we fell back to the roadside, +while the boisterous troops tramped past, cheering, singing, +laughing in their excitement. Mechanically we fell in behind the +Caughnawagas, who formed the rear-guard, and followed on through +the dust; meaning to go with them only a mile or so before we +started back across country with the news which I was now at +liberty to take in person to General Schuyler.</p> +<p>For I considered my mission at an end. In one thing only had I +failed: Walter Butler was still free; but now that he commanded a +company of outlaws and savages in St. Leger's army, I, of course, +had no further hope of arresting him or of dealing with him in any +manner save on the battle-field.</p> +<p>So at last I felt forced to return to Varick Manor; but the fear +of the dread future was in me, and all the hopeless misery of a +hopeless passion made of me a coward, so that I shrank from the +pain I must surely inflict and endure. Kinder for her, kinder for +me, that we should never meet again.</p> +<p>Not that I desired to die. I was too young in life and love to +wish for death as a balm. Besides, I knew it could not bring us +peace. Still, it was one solution of a problem otherwise so utterly +hopeless that I, heartsick, had long since wearied of the solving +and carried my hurt buried deep, fearful lest my prying senses +should stir me to disinter the dead hope lying there.</p> +<p>Absence renders passion endurable. But at sight of her I loved I +knew I could not endure it; and, uncertain of myself, having twice +nigh failed under the overwhelming provocations of a love returned, +I shrank from the coming duel 'twixt love and duty which must once +more be fought within my breast.</p> +<p>Nor could my duty, fighting blindly, expect encouragement from +her I loved, save at the last gasp and under the heel of love. +Then, only, at the very last would she save me; for there was that +within her which revolted at a final wrong, and I knew that not +even our twin passion could prevail to stamp out the last spark of +conscience and slay our souls forever.</p> +<p>Brooding, as I trudged forward through the dust, I became aware +that the drums had ceased their beating, and that the men were +marching quietly with little laughter or noise of song.</p> +<p>The heat was intense, although a black cloud had pushed up above +the west, veiling the sun. Flies swarmed about the column; sweat +poured from men and horses; the soldiers rolled back their sleeves +and plodded on, muskets a-trail and coats hanging over their +shoulders. Once, very far away, the looming horizon was veined with +lightning; and, after a long time, thunder sounded.</p> +<p>We had marched northward on a rutty road some two miles or more +from our camp at Oriska, and I was asking Mount how near we were to +the old Algonquin-Iroquois trail which runs from the lakes across +the wilderness to the healing springs at Saratoga, when the column +halted and I heard an increasing confusion of voices from the +van.</p> +<p>"There's a ravine ahead," said Elerson. "I'm thinking they'll +have trouble with these wagons, for there's a swamp at the bottom +and only a log-road across."</p> +<p>"Tis the proper shpot f'r to ambuscade us," observed Murphy, +craning his neck and standing on tiptoe to see ahead.</p> +<p>We walked forward and sat down on the bank close to the brow of +the hill. Directly ahead a ravine, shaped like a half-moon, cut the +road, and the noisy Canajoharie regiment was marching into it. The +bottom of the ravine appeared to be a swamp, thinly timbered with +tamarack and blue-beech saplings, where the reeds and cattails grew +thick, and little, dark pools of water spread, all starred with +water-lilies, shining intensely white in the gloom of the coming +storm.</p> +<p>"There do be wild ducks in thim rushes," said Murphy, musingly. +"Sure I count it sthrange, Jack Mount, that thim burrds sit +quiet-like an' a screechin' rigiment marchin' acrost that +log-road."</p> +<p>"You mean that somebody has been down there before and scared +the ducks away?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Maybe, sorr," he replied, grimly.</p> +<p>Instinctively we leaned forward to scan the rising ground on the +opposite side of the ravine. Nothing moved in the dense thickets. +After a moment Mount said quietly: "I'm a liar or there's a barked +twig showing raw wood alongside of that ledge."</p> +<p>He glanced at the pan of his rifle, then again fixed his keen, +blue eyes on the tiny glimmer of white which even I could +distinguish now, though Heaven only knows how his eyes had found it +in all that tangle.</p> +<p>"That's raw wood," he repeated.</p> +<p>"A deer might bark a twig," said I.</p> +<p>"Maybe, sorr," muttered Murphy; "but there's divil a deer w'ud +nibble sheep-laurel."</p> +<p>The men of the Canajoharie regiment were climbing the hill on +the other side of the ravine now. Colonel Cox came galloping back, +shouting: "Bring up those wagons! The road is clear! Move your men +forward there!"</p> +<p>Whips cracked; the vehicles rattled off down hill, drivers +yelling, soldiers pushing the heavy wheels forward over the +log-road below which spurted water as the bumping wagons struck the +causeway.</p> +<p>I remember that Colonel Cox had just drawn bridle, half-way up +the opposite incline, and was leaning forward in his saddle to +watch the progress of an ox-team, when a rifle-shot rang out and he +tumbled clean out of his saddle, striking the shallow water with a +splash.</p> +<p>Then hell itself broke loose in that black ravine; volley on +volley poured into the Canajoharie regiment; officers fell from +their horses; drivers reeled and pitched forward under the heels of +their plunging teams; wagons collided and broke down, choking the +log-road. Louder and louder the terrific yells of the outlaws and +savages rang out on our flanks; I saw our soldiers in the ravine +running frantically in all directions, falling on the log-road, +floundering waist-deep in the water and mud, slipping, stumbling, +staggering; while faster and faster cracked the hidden rifles, and +the pitiless bullets pelted them from the heights above.</p> +<p>"Stand! Stand! you fools!" bawled Elerson. "Take to the timber! +Every man to a tree! For God's sake remember Braddock!"</p> +<p>"Look out!" shouted Mount, dragging me with him to a rock. +"Close up, Elerson! Close up, Murphy!"</p> +<p>Straight into the stupefied ranks of the Caughnawaga company +came leaping the savages, shooting, stabbing, clubbing the dazed +men, dragging them from the ranks with shrieks of triumph. I saw +one half-naked creature, awful in his paint, run up and strike a +soldier full in the face with his fist, then dash out his brains +with a death-maul and tear his scalp off.</p> +<p>Murphy and Mount were loading and firing steadily; Elerson and I +kept our rifles ready for a rush. I was perfectly stunned; the +spectacle did not seem real to me.</p> +<p>The Caughnawaga men, apparently roused from their momentary +stupor, fell back into small squads, shooting in every direction; +and the savages, unable to withstand a direct fire, sheered off and +came bounding past us to cover, yelping like timber-wolves. Three +darted directly at us; a young warrior, painted in bars of bright +yellow, raised his hatchet to hurl it; but Murphy's bullet spun him +round like a top till he crashed against a tree and fell in a heap, +quivering all over.</p> +<p>The two others had leaped on Mount. Swearing, threatening, +roaring with rage, the desperate giant shook them off into our +midst, and cut the throat of one as he lay sprawling--a sickening +spectacle, for the poor wretch floundered and thrashed about among +the leaves and sticks, squirting thick blood all over us.</p> +<p>The remaining savage, a chief, by his lock and eagle-quill, had +fastened to Elerson's legs with the fury of a tree-cat, clawing and +squalling, while Murphy dealt him blow on blow with clubbed stock, +and finally was forced to shoot him so close that the rifle-flame +set his greased scalp-lock afire.</p> +<p>"Take to the timber, you Tryon County men! Remember Braddock!" +shouted Colonel Paris, plunging about on his wounded horse; while +from every tree and bush rang out the reports of the rifles; and +the steady stream of bullets poured into the Caughnawaga regiment, +knocking the men down the hill-side into the struggling mass below. +Some dropped dead where they had been shot; some rolled to the +log-road; some fell into the marsh, splashing and limping about +like crippled wild fowl.</p> +<p>"Advance der Palatine regiment!" thundered Herkimer. "Clear avay +dot oxen-team!"</p> +<p>A drummer-boy of the Palatines beat the charge. I can see him +yet, a curly-haired youngster, knee-deep in the mud, his white, +frightened face fixed on his commander. They shot his drum to +pieces; he beat steadily on the flapping parchment.</p> +<p>Across the swamp the Palatines were doggedly climbing the slope +in the face of a terrible discharge. Herkimer led them. As they +reached the crest of the plateau, and struggled up and over, a rush +of men in green uniforms seemed to swallow the entire Palatine +regiment. I saw them bayonet Major Eisenlord and finish him with +their rifle-stocks; they stabbed Major Van Slyck, and hurled +themselves at the mounted Oneida. Hatchet flashing, the interpreter +swung his horse straight into the yelling onset and went down, +smothered under a mass of enemies.</p> +<p>"Vorwärts!" thundered Herkimer, standing straight up in his +stirrups; but they shot him out of his saddle and closed with the +Palatines, hilt to hilt.</p> +<p>Major Frey and Colonel Bellenger fell under their horses, +Colonel Seeber dropped dead into the ravine, Captain Graves was +dragged from the ranks and butchered by bayonets; but those +stubborn Palatines calmly divided into squads, and their steady +fusillade stopped the rush of the Royal Greens and sent the +flanking savages howling to cover.</p> +<p>Mount, Murphy, Elerson, and I lay behind a fallen hemlock, +awaiting the flank attack which we now understood must surely come. +For our regiments were at last completely surrounded, facing +outward in an irregular circle, the front held by the Palatines, +the rear by the Caughnawagas, the west by part of the Canajoharie +regiment, and the east by a fraction of unbrigaded militia, +teamsters, batt-men, bateaux-men, and half a dozen volunteer +rangers reinforced by my three riflemen.</p> +<p>The scene was real enough to me now. Jack Mount, kneeling beside +me, was attempting to clean the blood from himself and Elerson with +handfuls of dried leaves. Murphy lay on his belly, watching the +forest in front of us, and his blue eyes seemed suffused with a +light of their own in the deepening gloom of the gathering +thunder-storm. My nerves were all a-quiver; the awful screaming +from the ravine had never ceased for an instant, and in that +darkening, slimy pit I could still see a swaying mass of men on the +causeway, locked in a death-struggle. To and fro they reeled; +hatchet and knife and gun-stock glittered, rising and falling in +the twilight of the storm-cloud; the flames from the rifles flashed +crimson.</p> +<p>"Kape ye're eyes to the front, sorr; they do be comin'!" cried +Murphy, springing briskly to his feet.</p> +<p>I looked ahead into the darkening woods; the Caughnawaga men +were falling back, taking station behind trees; Mount stepped to +the shelter of a big oak; Elerson leaped to cover under a pine; a +Caughnawaga bateaux-man darted past me, stationing himself on my +right behind the trunk of a dapple beech. Suddenly an Indian showed +himself close in front; the Caughnawaga man fired and missed; and, +quicker than I can write it, the savage was on him before he could +reload and had brained him with a single castete-stroke. I fired, +but the Mohawk was too quick for me, and a moment later he bounded +back into the brush while the forest rang with his triumphant +scalp-yell.</p> +<p>"That's what they're doing in front!" shouted Elerson. "When a +soldier fires they're on him before he can reload!"</p> +<p>"Two men to a tree!" roared Jack Mount. "Double up there, you +Caughnawaga men!"</p> +<p>Elerson glided cautiously to the oak which sheltered Mount; +Murphy crept forward to my tree.</p> +<p>"Bedad!" he muttered, "let the ondacent divils dhraw ye're fire +an' welcome. I've a pill to purge 'em now. Luk at that, sorr! +Shteady! Shteady an' cool does it!"</p> +<p>A savage, with his face painted half white and half red, stepped +out from the thicket and dropped just as I fired. The next instant +he came leaping straight for our tree, castete poised.</p> +<p>Murphy fired. The effect of the shot was amazing; the savage +stopped short in mid-career as though he had come into collision +with a stone wall; then Elerson fired, knocking him flat, head +doubled under his naked shoulders, feet trailing across a rotting +log.</p> +<p>"Save ye're powther, Dave!" sang out Murphy. "Sure he was clean +kilt as he shtood there. Lave a dead man take his own time to +fall!"</p> +<p>I had reloaded, and Murphy was coolly priming, when on our right +the rifles began speaking faster and faster, and I heard the sound +of men running hard over the dry leaves, and the thudding gallop of +horses.</p> +<p>"A charge!" said Murphy. "There do be horses comin', too. Have +they dhragoons?--I dunnoa. Ha! There they go! 'Tis McCraw's outlaws +or I'm a Dootchman!"</p> +<p>A shrill cock-crow rang out in the forest.</p> +<p>"'Tis the chanticleer scalp-yell of that damned loon, Francy +McCraw!" he cried, fiercely. "Give it to 'em, b'ys! Shoot hell into +the dommed Tories!"</p> +<p>The Caughnawaga rifles rang out from every tree; a white man +came running through the wood, and I instinctively held my +fire.</p> +<p>"Shoot the dhirrty son of a shlut!" yelled Murphy; and Elerson +shot him and knocked him down, but the man staggered to his feet +again, clutching at his wounded throat, and reeled towards us. He +fell again, got on his knees, crawled across the dead leaves until +he was scarce fifteen yards away, then fell over and lay there, +coughing.</p> +<p>"A dead wan,"' said Murphy, calmly; "lave him."</p> +<p>McCraw's onset passed along our extreme left; the volleys grew +furious; the ghastly cock-crow rang out shrill and piercing, and we +fired at long range where the horses were passing through the +rifle-smoke.</p> +<p>Then, in the roar of the fusillade, a bright flash lighted up +the forest; a thundering crash followed, and the storm burst, +deluging the woods with rain. Trees rocked and groaned, dashing +their tops together; the wind rose to a hurricane; the rain poured +down, beating the leaves from the trees, driving friend and foe to +shelter. The reports of the rifles ceased; the war-yelp died away. +Peal on peal of thunder shook the earth; the roar of the tempest +rose to a steady shriek through which the terrific smashing of +falling trees echoed above the clash of branches.</p> +<p>Soaked, stunned, blinded by the awful glare of the lightning, I +crouched under the great oak, which rocked and groaned, convulsed +to its bedded roots, so that the ground heaved under me as I +lay.</p> +<p>I could not see ten feet ahead of me, so thick was the gloom +with rain and flying leaves and twigs. The thunder culminated in a +series of fearful crashes; bolt after bolt fell, illuminating the +flying chaos of the tempest; then came a stunning silence, slowly +filled with the steady roar of the rain.</p> +<p>A gray pallor grew in the woods. I looked down into the ravine +and saw a muddy lake there full of dead men and horses.</p> +<p>The wounded Tory near us was still choking and coughing, dying +hard out there in the rain. Mount and Elerson crept over to where +we lay, and, after a moment's conference, Murphy led us in a long +circle, swinging gradually northward until we stumbled into the +drenched Palatine regiment, which was still holding its ground. +There was no firing on either side; the guns were too wet.</p> +<p>On a wooded knoll to the left a group of dripping men had +gathered. Somebody said that the old General lay there, smoking and +directing the defence, his left leg shattered by a ball. I saw the +blue smoke of his pipe curling up under the tree, but I did not see +him.</p> +<p>The wind had died out; the thunder rolled off to the northward, +muttering among the hills; rain fell less heavily; and I saw +wounded men tearing strips from their soaking shirts to bind their +hurts. Details from the Canajoharie regiment passed us searching +the underbrush for their dead.</p> +<p>I also noticed with a shudder that Elerson and Murphy carried +two fresh scalps apiece, tied to the belts of their hunting-shirts; +but I said nothing, having been warned by Jack Mount that they +considered it their prerogative to take the scalps of those who had +failed to take theirs.</p> +<p>How they could do it I cannot understand, for I had once seen +the body of a scalped man, with the skin, released from the muscles +of the forehead, hanging all loose and wrinkled over the face.</p> +<p>With the ceasing of the rain came the renewed crack of the +rifles and the whiz of bullets. We took post on the extreme left, +firing deliberately at McCraw's renegades; and I do not know +whether I hit any or not, but five men did I see fall under the +murderous aim of Murphy; and I know that Elerson shot two savages, +for he went down into the ravine after them and returned with the +wet, red trophies.</p> +<p>The sun was now shining again with a heat so fierce and intense +that the earth smoked vapor all around us. It was at this time that +I, personally, experienced the only close fighting of the day, +which brought a sudden end to this most amazing and bloody +skirmish.</p> +<p>I had been lying full length behind a bush in the lines of the +Palatine regiment, eating a crust of bread; for that strange +battle-hunger had been gnawing at my vitals for an hour. Some of +the men were eating, some firing; the steaming heat almost +suffocated me as I lay there, yet I munched on, ravenous as a +December wolf.</p> +<p>I heard somebody shout: "Here they come!" and, filling my mouth +with bread, I rose to my knees to see.</p> +<p>A body of troops in green uniforms came marching steadily +towards us, led by a red-coated officer on horseback; and all +around me the Palatines were springing to their feet, uttering +cries of rage, cursing the oncoming troops, and calling out to them +by name.</p> +<p>For the detachment of Royal Greens which now advanced to the +assault was, it appeared, composed of old acquaintances and +neighbors of the Palatines, who had fled to join the Tories and +Indians and now returned to devastate their own county.</p> +<p>Lashed to ungovernable fury by the sight of these hated +renegades, the entire regiment leaped forward with a roar and +rushed on the advancing detachment, stabbing, shooting, clubbing, +throttling. Mutual hatred made the contest terrible beyond words; +no quarter was given on either side. I saw men strangle each other +with naked hands; kick each other to death, fighting like dogs, +tooth and nail, rolling over the wet ground.</p> +<p>The tide had not yet struck us; we fired at their mounted +officer, whom Elerson declared he recognized as Major Watts, +brother-in-law to Sir John Johnson; and presently, as usual, Murphy +hit him, so that the young fellow dropped forward on his saddle and +his horse ran away, flinging him against a tree with a crash, +doubtless breaking every bone in his body.</p> +<p>Then, above the tumult, out of the north came booming three +cannon-shots, the signal from the fort that Herkimer had desired to +wait for.</p> +<p>A detachment from the Canajoharie regiment surged out of the +woods with a ringing cheer, pointing northward, where, across a +clearing, a body of troops were rapidly advancing from the +direction of the fort.</p> +<p>"The sortie! The sortie!" shouted the soldiers, frantic with +joy. Murphy and I ran towards them; Elerson yelled: "Be careful! +Look at their uniforms! Don't go too close to them!"</p> +<p>"They're coming from the north!" bawled Mount. "They're our own +people, Dave! Come on!"</p> +<p>Captain Jacob Gardinier, with a dozen Caughnawaga men, had +already reached the advancing troops, when Murphy seized my arm and +halted me, crying out, "Those men are wearing their coats turned +inside out! They're Johnson's Greens!"</p> +<p>At the same instant I recognized Colonel John Butler as the +officer leading them; and he knew me and, without a word, fired his +pistol at me. We were so near them now that a Tory caught hold of +Murphy and tried to stab him, but the big Irishman kicked him +headlong and rushed into the mob, swinging his long hatchet, +followed by Gardinier and his Caughnawaga men, whom the treachery +had transformed into demons.</p> +<p>In an instant all around me men were swaying, striking, +shooting, panting, locked in a deadly embrace. A sweating, +red-faced soldier closed with me; chin to chin, breast to breast we +wrestled; and I shall never forget the stifling struggle--every +detail remains, his sunburned face, wet with sweat and +powder-smeared; his irregular teeth showing when I got him by the +throat, and the awful change that came over his visage when Jack +Mount shoved the muzzle of his rifle against the struggling fellow +and shot him through the stomach.</p> +<p>Freed from his death-grip, I stood breathing convulsively, hands +clinched, one foot on my fallen rifle. An Indian ran past me, +chased by Elerson and Murphy, but the savage dodged into the +underbrush, shrieking, "Oonah! Oonah! Oonah!" and Elerson came +back, waving his deer-hide cap.</p> +<p>Everywhere Tories, Royal Greens, and Indians were running into +the woods; the wailing cry, "Oonah! Oonah!" rose on all sides now. +Gardinier's Caughnawaga men were shooting rapidly; the Palatines, +master of their reeking brush-field, poured a heavy fire into the +detachment of retreating Greens, who finally broke and ran, +dropping sack and rifle in their flight, and leaving thirty of +their dead under the feet of the Palatines.</p> +<p>The soldiers of the Canajoharie regiment came up, swarming over +a wooded knoll on the right, only to halt and stand, silently +leaning on their rifles.</p> +<p>For the battle of Oriskany was over.</p> +<p>There was no cheering from the men of Tryon County. Their +victory had been too dearly bought; their losses too terrible; +their triumph sterile, for they could not now advance the crippled +fragments of their regiments and raise the siege in the face of St. +Leger's regulars and Walter Butler's Rangers.</p> +<p>Their combat with Johnson's Greens and Brant's Mohawks had been +fought; and, though masters of the field, they could do no more +than hold their ground. Perhaps the bitter knowledge that they must +leave Stanwix to its fate, and that, too, through their own +disobedience, made the better soldiers of them in time. But it was +a hard and dreadful lesson; and I saw men crying, faces hidden in +their powder-blackened hands, as the dying General was borne +through the ranks, lying gray and motionless on his hemlock +litter.</p> +<p>And this is all that I myself witnessed of that shameful +ambuscade and murderous combat, fought some two miles north of the +dirty camp, and now known as the Battle of Oriskany.</p> +<p>That night we buried our dead; one hundred on the field where +they had fallen, two hundred and fifty in the burial trenches at +Oriskany--thirty-five wagon-loads in all. Scarcely an officer of +rank remained to lead the funeral march when the muffled drums of +the Palatines rolled at midnight, and the smoky torches moved, and +the dead-wagons rumbled on through the suffocating darkness of a +starless night. We had few wounded; we took no prisoners; Oriskany +meant death. We counted only thirty men disabled and some score +missing.</p> +<p>"God grant the missing be safely dead," prayed our camp chaplain +at the burial trench. We knew what that meant; worse than dead were +the wretched men who had fallen alive into the hands of old John +Butler and his son, Walter, and that vicious drunkard, Barry St. +Leger, who had offered, over his own signature, two hundred and +forty dollars a dozen for prime Tryon County scalps.</p> +<p>I slept little that night, partly from the excitement of my +first serious combat, partly because of the terrible heat. Our +outposts, now painfully overzealous and alert, fired off their +muskets at every fancied sound or movement, and these continual +alarms kept me awake, though Mount and Murphy slept peacefully, and +Elerson yawned on guard.</p> +<p>Towards sunrise rain fell heavily, but brought no relief from +the heat; the sun, a cherry-red ball, hung a hand's-breadth over +the forests when the curtain of rain faded away. The riflemen, +curled up in the hay on the barn floor, snored on, unconscious; the +batt-horses crunched and munched in the manger; flies whirled and +swarmed over a wheelbarrow piled full of dead soldier's shoes, +which must to-day be distributed among the living.</p> +<p>All the loathsome and filthy side of war seemed concentrated +around the barn-yard, where sleepy, unshaven, half-dressed soldiers +were burning the under-clothes of a man who had died of the black +measles; while a great, brawny fellow, naked to the waist and +smeared from hair to ankles with blood, butchered sheep, so that +the army might eat that day.</p> +<p>The thick stench of the burning clothing, the odor of blood, the +piteous bleating of the doomed creatures sickened me; and I made my +way out of the barn and down to the river, where I stripped and +waded out to wash me and my clothes.</p> +<p>A Caughnawaga soldier gave me a bit of soap; and I spent the +morning there. By noon the fierce heat of the sun had dried my +clothes; by two o'clock our small scout of four left the Stanwix +and Johnstown road and struck out through the unbroken wilderness +for German Flatts.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> +<h3>THE HOME TRAIL</h3> +<br> +<p>For eleven days we lay at German Flatts, Colonel Visscher +begging us to aid in the defence of that threatened village until +the women and children could be conveyed to Johnstown. But Sir John +Johnson remained before Stanwix, and McCraw's riders gave the +village wide berth, and on the 18th of August we set out for +Varicks'.</p> +<p>Warned by our extreme outposts, we bore to the south, forced +miles out of our course to avoid the Oneida country, where a +terrific little war was raging. For the Senecas, Cayugas, a few +Mohawks, and McCraw's renegade Tories, furious at the neutral and +pacific attitude of the Oneidas towards our people, had suddenly +fallen upon them, tooth and nail, vowing that the Oneida nation +should perish from the earth for their treason to the Long +House.</p> +<p>We skirted the doomed region cautiously, touching here and there +the fringe of massacre and fire, often scenting smoke, sometimes +hearing a distant shot. Once we encountered an Oneida runner, +painted blue and white, and naked save for the loin-cloth, who told +us of the civil war that was already rending the Long House; and I +then understood more fully what Magdalen Brant had done for our +cause, and how far-reaching had been the effects of her appearance +at the False-Faces' council-fire.</p> +<p>The Oneida appeared to be disheartened. He sullenly admitted to +us that the Cayugas had scattered his people and laid their village +in ashes; he cursed McCraw fiercely and promised a dreadful +retaliation on any renegade captured. He also described the fate of +the Oriskany prisoners and some bateaux-men taken by Walter +Butler's Rangers near Wood Creek; and I could scarcely endure to +listen, so horrid were the details of our soldiers' common fate, +where Mohawk and Tory, stripped and painted alike, conspired to +invent atrocities undreamed of for their wretched victims.</p> +<p>It was then that I heard for the second time the term "Blue-eyed +Indian," meaning white men stained, painted, and disguised as +savages. More terrifying than the savages themselves, it appeared, +were the blue-eyed Indians to the miserable settlers of Tryon. For +hellish ingenuity and devilish cruelty these mock savages, the +Oneida assured us, had nothing to learn from their red comrades; +and I shall never be able to efface from my mind the memory of what +we saw, that very day, in a lonely farm-house on the flats of the +Mohawk; nor was it necessary that McCraw should have left his mark +on the shattered door--a cock crowing, drawn in outline by a man's +forefinger steeped in blood--to enlighten those who might not +recognize the ghastly work as his.</p> +<p>We stayed there for three hours to bury the dead, an old man and +woman, a young mother, and five children, the youngest an infant +not a year old. All had been scalped; even the watch-dog lay dead +near the bloody cradle. We dug the shallow graves with difficulty, +having nothing to work with save our hunting-knives and some broken +dishes which we found in the house; and it was close to noon before +we left the lonely flat and pushed forward through miles of stunted +willow growth towards the river road which led to Johnstown.</p> +<p>I shall never forget Mount's set face nor Murphy's terrible, +vacant stare as we plodded on in absolute silence. Elerson led us +on a steady trot hour after hour, till, late in the afternoon, we +crossed the river road and wheeled into it exhausted.</p> +<p>The west was all aglow; cleared land and fences lay along the +roadside; here and there houses loomed up in the red, evening +light, but their inhabitants were gone, and not a sign of life +remained about them save for the circling swallows whirling in and +out of the blackened chimneys.</p> +<p>So still, so sad this solitude that the sudden chirping of a +robin in the evening shadows startled us.</p> +<p>The sun sank behind the forest, turning the river to a bloody +red; a fox yapped and yapped from a dark hill-side; the moon's +yellow light flashed out through the trees; and, with the coming of +the moon, far in the wilderness the owls began and the cries of the +night-hawks died away in the sky.</p> +<p>The first human being that we encountered was a miller riding an +ancient horse towards a lane which bordered a noisy brook.</p> +<p>When he discovered us he whipped out a pistol and bade us stand +where we were; and it took all my persuasion to convince him that +we were not renegades from McCraw's band.</p> +<p>We asked for news, but he had none, save that a heavy force of +our soldiers was lying by the roadside some two miles below on +their way to relieve Fort Stanwix. The General, he believed, was +named Arnold, and the troops were Massachusetts men; that was all +he knew.</p> +<p>He seemed stupid or perhaps stunned, having lost three sons in a +battle somewhere near Bennington, and had that morning received +word of his loss. How the battle had gone he did not know; he was +on his way up the creek to lock his mill before joining the militia +at Johnstown. He was not too old to carry the musket he had carried +at Braddock's battle. Besides, his boys were dead, and there was no +one in his family except himself to help our Congress fight the +red-coats.</p> +<p>We watched him ride off into the darkness, gray head erect, +pistol shining in his hand; then moved on, searching the distance +for the outpost we knew must presently hail us. And, sure enough, +from the shadow of a clump of trees came the smart challenge: +"Halt! Who goes there?"</p> +<p>"Officer from Herkimer and scout of three with news for General +Schuyler!" I answered.</p> +<p>"Halt, officer with scout! Sergeant of the guard! Post number +three!"</p> +<p>Dark figures swarmed in the road ahead; a squad of men came up +on the double.</p> +<p>"Advance officer!" rang out the summons; a torch blazed, +throwing a red glare around us; a red-faced old officer in brown +and scarlet walked up and took the packet of papers which I +extended.</p> +<p>"Are you Captain Ormond?" he asked, curiously, glancing at the +endorsement on my papers.</p> +<p>I replied that I was, and named Murphy, Elerson, and Mount as my +scout.</p> +<p>When the soldiers standing about heard the notorious names of +men already famed in ballad and story, they craned their necks to +see, as my tired riflemen filed into the lines; and the +staff-officer made himself exceedingly agreeable and civil, +conducting us to a shelter made of balsam branches, before which a +smudge was burning.</p> +<p>"General Arnold has despatches for you, Captain Ormond," he +said; "I am Drummond, Brigade Major; we expected you at Varick +Manor on the ninth--you wrote to your cousin, Miss Varick, from +Oriskany, you know."</p> +<p>A soldier came up with two headquarters lanterns which he hung +on the cross-bar of the open-faced hut; another soldier brought +bread and cheese, a great apple-pie, a jug of spring water, and a +bottle of brandy, with the compliments of Brigadier-General Arnold, +and apologies that neither cloth, glasses, nor cutlery were +included in the camp baggage.</p> +<p>"We're light infantry with a vengeance, Captain Ormond," said +Major Drummond, laughing; "we left at twenty-four hours' notice! +Gad, sir! the day before we started the General hadn't a squad +under his orders; but when Schuyler called for volunteers, and his +brigadiers began to raise hell at the idea of weakening the army to +help Stanwix, Arnold came out of his fit of sulks on the jump! +'Who'll follow me to Stanwix?' he bawls; and, by gad, sir, the +Massachusetts men fell over each other trying to sign the +rolls."</p> +<p>He laughed again, waving my papers in the air and slapping them +down on a knapsack.</p> +<p>"You will doubtless wish to hand these to the General yourself," +he said, pleasantly. "Pray, sir, do not think of standing on +ceremony; I have dined, Captain."</p> +<p>Mount, who had been furtively licking his lips and casting +oblique glances at the bread and cheese, fell to at a nod from me. +Murphy and Elerson joined him, bolting huge mouthfuls. I ate +sparingly, having little appetite left after the sights I had seen +in that lonely house on the Mohawk flats.</p> +<p>The gnats swarmed, but the smoke of the green-moss smudge kept +them from us in a measure. I asked Major Drummond how soon it might +be convenient for General Arnold to receive me, and he sent a young +ensign to headquarters, who presently returned saying that General +Arnold was making the rounds and would waive ceremony and stop at +our post on his return.</p> +<p>"There's a soldier, sir!" said Major Drummond, emphasizing his +words with a smart blow of his riding-cane on his polished +quarter-boots. "He's had us on a dog-trot since we started; up +hill, down dale, across the cursed Sacandaga swamps, through fords +chin-high! By gad, sir! allow me to tell you that nothing stopped +us! We went through windfalls like partridges; we crossed the hills +like a herd o' deer in flight! We ran as though the devil were +snapping at our shanks! I'm half dead, thank you--and my +shins!--you should see where that razor-boned nag of mine shaved +bark enough off the trees with me to start every tannery between +the Fish-House and Half-moon!"</p> +<p>The ruddy-faced Major roared at the recital of his own +misfortunes. Mount and Murphy looked up with sympathetic grins; +Elerson had fallen asleep against the side of the shack, a bit of +pie, half gnawed, clutched in his brier-torn fist.</p> +<p>I had a pipe, but no tobacco; the Major filled my pipe, purring +contentedly; a soldier, at a sign from him, took Mount and Murphy +to the nearest fire, where there was a gill of grog and plenty of +tobacco. I roused Elerson, who gaped, bolted his pie with a single +mighty effort, and stumbled off after his comrades. Major Drummond +squatted down cross-legged before the smudge, lighting his corn-cob +pipe from a bit of glowing moss, and leaned back contentedly, +crossing his arms behind his head.</p> +<p>"I'm tired, too," he said; "we march again at midnight. If it's +no secret, I should like to know what's going on ahead there."</p> +<p>"It's no secret," I said, soberly; "the Senecas and Cayugas are +harrying the Oneidas; the renegades are riding the forest, +murdering women and infants. St. Leger is firing bombs at Stanwix, +and Visscher is holding German Flatts with some Caughnawaga +militia."</p> +<p>"And Herkimer?" asked Drummond, gravely.</p> +<p>"Dead," I replied, in a low voice.</p> +<p>"Good gad, sir! I had not heard that!" he exclaimed.</p> +<p>"It is true, Major. The old man died while I was at German +Flatts. They say the amputation of his leg was a wretched piece of +work.... He died bolt upright in his bed, smoking his pipe, and +reading aloud the thirty-eighth Psalm.... His men are wild with +grief, they say.... They called him a coward the morning of +Oriskany."</p> +<p>After a silence the Major's emotion dimmed his twinkling eyes; +he dragged a red bandanna handkerchief from his coat-tails and blew +his nose violently.</p> +<p>"All flesh is grass--eh, Captain? And some of it devilish poor +grass at that, eh? Well, well; we can't make an army in a day. But, +by gad, sir, we've done uncommonly well. You've heard of--but no, +you haven't, either. Here's news for you, friend, since you've been +in the woods. On the sixth, while you fellows were shooting down +some three hundred and fifty of the Mohawks, Royal Greens, and +renegades, that sly old wolverine, Marinus Willett, slipped out of +the fort, fell on Sir John's camp, and took twenty-one wagon-loads +of provisions, blankets, ammunition, and tools; also five British +standards and every bit of personal baggage belonging to Sir John +Johnson, including his private papers, maps, memoranda, and all +orders and instructions for the completed plans of campaign.... +Wait, if you please, sir. That is not all.</p> +<p>"On the sixteenth, old John Stark fell upon Baum's and Breyman's +Hessians at Bennington, killed and wounded over two hundred, +captured seven hundred; took a thousand stand of arms, a thousand +fine dragoon sabres, and four excellent field-cannon with limbers, +harness, and caissons.... <i>And lost fourteen killed!</i>"</p> +<p>Speechless at the good news, I could only lean across the smudge +and shake hands with him while he chuckled and slapped his knee, +growing ruddier in the face every moment.</p> +<p>"Where are the red-coats now?" he cried. "Look at 'em! Burgoyne, +scared witless, badgered, dogged from pillar to post, his army on +the defensive from Still water down to Half-moon; St. Leger, +destitute of his camp baggage, caught in his own wolf-pit, flinging +a dozen harmless bombs at Stanwix, and frightened half to death at +every rumor from Albany; McDonald chased out of the county; Mann +captured, and Sir Henry Clinton dawdling in New York and bothering +his head over Washington while Burgoyne, in a devil of a plight, +sits yonder yelling for help!</p> +<p>"Where's the great invasion, Ormond? Where's the grand advance +on the centre? Where's the gigantic triple blow at the heart of +this scurvy rebellion? I don't know; do you?"</p> +<p>I shook my head, smilingly; he beamed upon me; we had a swallow +of brandy together, and I lay back, deathly tired, to wait for +Arnold and my despatches.</p> +<p>"That's right," commented the genial Major, "go to sleep while +you can; the General won't take it amiss--eh? What? Oh, don't mind +me, my son. Old codgers like me can get along without such luxuries +as sleep. It's the young lads who require sleep. Eh? Yes, sir; I'm +serious. Wait till you see sixty year! Then you'll understand.... +So I'll just sit here, ... and smoke, ... and talk away in a +buzz-song, ... and that will fix--"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>I looked up with a start; the Major had disappeared. In my eyes +a lantern was shining steadily. Then a shadow moved, and I turned +and stumbled to my feet, as a cloaked figure stepped into the +shelter and stood before me, peering into my eyes.</p> +<p>"I'm Arnold; how d'ye do," came a quick, nervous voice from the +depths of the military cloak. "I've a moment to stay here; we march +in ten minutes. Is Herkimer dead?"</p> +<p>I described his death in a few words.</p> +<p>"Bad, bad as hell!" he muttered, fingering his sword-hilt and +staring off into the darkness. "What's the situation above us? +Gansevoort's holding out, isn't he? I sent him a note to-night. Of +course he's holding out; isn't he?"</p> +<p>I made a short report of the situation as I knew it; the General +looked straight into my eyes as though he were not listening.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes," he said, impatiently. "I know how to deal with St. +Leger and Sir John--I wrote Gansevoort that I understood how to +deal with them. He has only to sit tight; I'll manage the +rest."</p> +<p>His dark, lean, eager visage caught the lantern light as he +turned to scan the moonlit sky. "Ten minutes," he muttered; "we +should strike German Flatts by sundown to-morrow if our supplies +come up." And, aloud, with an abrupt and vigorous gesture, +"McCraw's band are scalping the settlers, they say?"</p> +<p>I told him what I had seen. He nodded, then his virile face +changed and he gave me a sulky look.</p> +<p>"Captain Ormond," he said, "folk say that I brood over the +wrongs done me by Congress. It's a lie; I don't care a damn about +Congress--but let it pass. What I wish to say is this: On the +second of August the best general in these United States except +George Washington was deprived of his command and superseded by +a--a--thing named Gates.... I speak of General Philip Schuyler, my +friend, and now my fellow-victim."</p> +<p>Shocked and angry at the news of such injustice to the man whose +splendid energy had already paralyzed the British invasion of New +York, I stiffened up, rigid and speechless.</p> +<p>"Ho!" cried Arnold, with a disagreeable laugh. "It mads you, +does it? Well, sir, think of me who have lived to see five men +promoted over my head--and I left in the anterooms of Congress to +eat my heart out! But let that pass, too. By the eternal God, I'll +show them what stuff is in me! Let it pass, Ormond, let it +pass."</p> +<p>He began to pace the ground, gnawing his thick lower lip, and if +ever the infernal fire darted from human eyes, I saw its baleful +flicker then.</p> +<p>With a heave of his chest and a scowl, he controlled his voice, +stopping in his nervous walk to face me again.</p> +<p>"Ormond, you've gone up higher--the commission is here." He +pulled a packet of papers from his breast-pocket and thrust them at +me. "Schuyler did it. He thinks well of you, sir. On the first of +August he learned that he was to be superseded. He told Clinton +that you deserved a commission for what you did at that Iroquois +council-fire. Here it is; you're to raise a regiment of rangers for +local defence of the Mohawk district.... I congratulate you, +Colonel Ormond."</p> +<p>He offered his bony, nervous hand; I clasped it, dazed and +speechless.</p> +<p>"Remember me," he said, eagerly. "Let me count on your voice at +the next council of war. You will not regret it, Colonel. Even if +you go higher--even if you rise over my luckless head, you will not +regret the friendship of Benedict Arnold. For, by Heaven, sir, I +have it in me to lead men; and they shall not keep me down, and +they shall not fetter me--no, not even this beribboned lap-dog +Gates!... Stand my friend, Ormond. I need every friend I have. And +I promise you the world shall hear of me one day!"</p> +<p>I shall never forget his worn and shadowy face, the long nose, +the strong, selfish chin, the devouring flame burning his soul out +through his eyes.</p> +<p>"Luck be with you!" he said, abruptly, extending his hand. Once +more that bony, fervid clasp, and he was gone.</p> +<p>A moment later the ground vibrated; a dark, massed column of +troops appeared in the moonlight, marching swiftly without drum-tap +or spoken command; the dim forms of mounted officers rode past like +shadows against the stars; vague shapes of wagons creaked after, +rolling on muffled wheels; more troops followed quickly; then the +shadowy pageant ended; and there was nothing before me but the moon +in the sky above a world of ghostly wilderness.</p> +<p>One camp lantern had been left for my use; by its nickering +light I untied the documents left me by Arnold; and, sorting the +papers, chose first my orders, reading the formal notice of my +transfer from Morgan's Rifles to the militia; then the order +detailing me to the Mohawk district, with headquarters at Varick +Manor; and, finally, my commission on parchment, signed by Governor +Clinton and by Philip Schuyler, Major-General Commanding the +Department of the North.</p> +<p>It was, perhaps, the last official act as chief of department of +this generous man.</p> +<p>The next letter was in his own handwriting. I broke the heavy +seal and read:</p> +<blockquote>"ALBANY,<br> +<br> +"<i>August 10, 1777. "Colonel George Ormond</i>"<br> +<br> +"MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND,--As you have perhaps heard rumors that +General Gates has superseded me in command of the army now +operating against General Burgoyne, I desire to confirm these +rumors for your benefit.<br> +<br> +"My orders I now take from General Gates, without the slightest +rancor, I assure you, or the least unworthy sentiment of envy or +chagrin. Congress, in its wisdom, has ordered it; and I count him +unspeakably base who shall serve his country the less ardently +because of a petty and personal disappointment in ambitions +unfulfilled.<br> +<br> +"I remain loyal in heart and deed to my country and to General +Gates, who may command my poor talents in any manner he sees +fitting.<br> +<br> +"I say this to you because I am an older man, and I know something +of younger men, and I have liked you from the first. I say it +particularly because, now that you also owe duty and instant +obedience to General Gates, I do not wish your obedience retarded, +or your sense of duty confused by any mistaken ideas of friendship +to me or loyalty to my person.<br> +<br> +"In these times the individual is nothing, the cause everything. +Cliques, cabals, political conspiracies are foolish, +dangerous--nay, wickedly criminal. For, sir, as long as the world +endures, a house divided against itself must fall.<br> +<br> +"Which leads me with greatest pleasure to mention your wise and +successful diplomacy in the matter of the Long House. That house +you have most cleverly divided against itself; and it must fall--it +is tottering now, shaken to its foundations of centuries. Also, I +have the pleasure to refer to your capture of the man Beacraft and +his papers, disclosing a diabolical plan of murder. The man has +been condemned by a court on the evidence as it stood, and he is +now awaiting execution.<br> +<br> +"I have before me Colonel Visscher's partial report of the battle +of Oriskany. Your name is not mentioned in this report, but, +knowing you as I believe I do, I am satisfied that you did your +full duty in that terrible affair; although, in your report to me +by Oneida runner, you record the action as though you yourself were +a mere spectator.<br> +<br> +"I note with pleasure your mention of the gallantry of your +riflemen, Mount, Murphy, and Elerson, and have reported it to their +company captain, Mr. Long, who will, in turn, bring it to the +attention of Colonel Morgan.<br> +<br> +"I also note that you have not availed yourself of the war-services +of the Oneidas, for which I beg to thank you personally.<br> +<br> +"I recall with genuine pleasure my visit to your uncle, Sir Lupus +Varick, where I had the fortune to make your acquaintance and, I +trust, your friendship.<br> +<br> +"Mrs. Schuyler joins me in kindest remembrance to you, and to Sir +Lupus, whose courtesy and hospitality I have to-day had the honor +to acknowledge by letter. Through your good office we take +advantage of this opportunity to send our love to Miss Dorothy, who +has won our hearts.<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"I am, sir, your most obedient,<br> +PHILIP SCHUYLER,<br> +Major-General.</blockquote> +"P.S.--I had almost forgotten to congratulate you on your merited +advancement in military rank, for which you may thank our wise and +good Governor Clinton.<br> +<br> +"I shall not pretend to offer you unasked advice upon this happy +occasion, though it is an old man's temptation to do so, perhaps +even his prerogative. However, there are younger colonels than you, +sir, in our service--ay, and brigadiers, too. So be humble, and lay +not this honor with too much unction to your heart. Your +friend,<br> +<br> +"PH. SCHUYLER."</blockquote> +<p>I sat for a while staring at this good man's letter, then opened +the next missive.</p> +<blockquote>"HEADQUARTERS, DEPARTMENT OF THE NORTH,<br> +STILLWATER,<br> +<i>August 12</i>, 1777.<br> +<br> +"<i>Colonel George Ormond, on Scout</i>:<br> +<br> +"SIR,--By order of Major-General Gates, commanding this department, +you will, upon reception of this order, instantly repair to Varick +Manor and report your arrival by express or a native runner to be +trusted, preferably an Oneida. At nine o'clock, the day following +your arrival at Varicks', you will leave on your journey to +Stillwater, where you will report to General Gates for further +orders.<br> +<br> +"Your small experience in military matters of organization renders +it most necessary that you should be aided in the formation of your +regiment of rangers by a detail from Colonel Morgan's Rifles, as +well as by the advice of General Gates.<br> +<br> +"You will, therefore, retain the riflemen composing your scout, but +attempt nothing towards enlisting your companies until you receive +your instructions personally and in full from headquarters.<br> +<br> +"I am, sir,<br> +<br> +<br> +"Your very obedient servant,<br> +<br> +"WILKINSON, Adjutant-General.<br> +"For Major-General Gates, commanding."</blockquote> +<p>"Why, in Heaven's name, should I lose time by journeying to +headquarters?" I said, aloud, looking up from my letter. Ah! There +was the difference between Schuyler, who picked his man, told him +what he desired, and left him to fulfil it, and Gates, who chose a +man, flung his inexperience into his face, and bade him twirl his +thumbs and sit idle until headquarters could teach him how to do +what he had been chosen to do, presumably upon his ability to do +it!</p> +<p>A helpless sensation of paralysis came over me--a restless, +confused impression of my possible untrustworthiness, and of +unfriendliness to me in high quarters, even of a thinly veiled +hostility to me.</p> +<p>What a letter! That was not the way to get work out of a +subordinate--this patronizing of possible energy and enthusiasm, +this cold dampening of ardor, as though ardor in itself were a +reproach and zeal required reproof.</p> +<p>Wondering why they had chosen me if they thought me a blundering +and, perhaps, mischievous zealot, I picked up a parcel, undirected, +and broke the string.</p> +<p>Out of it fell two letters. The writing was my cousin Dorothy's; +and, trembling all over in spite of myself, I broke the seal of the +first. It was undated:</p> +<blockquote>"DEAREST,--Your letter from Oriskany is before me. I am +here in your room, the door locked, alone with your letter, +overwhelmed with love and tenderness and fear for you.<br> +<br> +"They tell me that you have been made colonel of a regiment, and +the honor thrills yet saddens me--all those colonels killed at +Oriskany! Is it a post of special danger, dear?<br> +<br> +"Oh, my brave, splendid lover I with your quiet, steady eyes and +your bright hair--you angel on earth who found me a child and left +me an adoring woman--can it be that in this world there is such a +thing as death for you? And could the world last without you?<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +"Ah me! dreary me! the love that is in me! Who could believe it? +Who could doubt that it is divine and not inspired by hell as I +once feared; it is so beautiful, so hopelessly beautiful, like that +faint thrill of splendor that passes shadowing a dream where, for +an instant, we think to see a tiny corner of heaven sparkling out +through a million fathoms of terrific night.... Did you ever dream +that?<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +"We have been gay here. Young Mr. Van Rensselaer came from Albany +to heal the breach with father. We danced and had games. He is a +good young man, this patroon and patriot. Listen, dear: he +permitted all his tenants to join the army of Gates, cancelled +their rent-rolls during their service, and promised to provide for +their families. It will take a fortune, but his deeds are better +than his words.<br> +<br> +"Only one thing, dear, that troubled me. I tell it to you, as I +tell you everything, knowing you to be kind and pitiful. It is +this: he asked father's permission to address me, not knowing I was +affianced. How sad is hopeless love!<br> +<br> +"There was a battle at Bennington, where General Stark's men +whipped the Brunswick troops and took equipments for a thousand +cavalry, so that now you should see our Legion of Horse, so gay in +their buff-and-blue and their new helmets and great, spurred +jack-boots and bright sabres!<br> +<br> +"Ruyven was stark mad to join them; and what do you think? Sir +Lupus consented, and General Schuyler lent his kind offices, and +to-day, if you please, my brother is strutting about the yard in +the uniform of a Cornet of Legion cavalry!<br> +<br> +"To-night the squadron leaves to chase some of McDonald's renegades +out of Broadalbin. You remember Captain McDonald, the Glencoe +brawler?--it's the same one, and he's done murder, they say, on the +folk of Tribes Hill. I am thankful that Ruyven is in Sir George +Covert's squadron.<br> +<br> +"And, dear, what do you think? Walter Butler was taken, three days +since, by some of Sir George Covert's riders, while visiting his +mother and sister at a farm-house near Johnstown. He was taken +within our lines, it seems, and in civilian's clothes; and the next +day he was tried by a drum-court at Albany and condemned to death +as a spy. Is it not awful? He has not yet been sentenced. It +touches us, too, that an Ormond-Butler should die on the gallows. +What horrors men commit! What horrors! God pity his mother!<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +"I am writing at a breathless pace, quill flying, sand scattered by +the handful--for my feverish gossip seems to help me to endure.<br> +<br> +"Time, space, distance vanish while I write; and I am with you ... +until my letter ends.<br> +<br> +"Then, quick! my budget of gossip! I said that we had been gay, and +that is true, for what with the Legion camping in our quarters and +General Arnold's men here for two days, and Schuyler's and Gates's +officers coming and going and <i>always</i> remaining to dine, at +least, we have danced and picnicked and played music and been +frightened when McDonald's men came too near. And oh, the terrible +pall that fell on our company when news came of poor Janet McCrea's +murder by Indians--you did not know her, but I did, and loved her +dearly in school--the dear little thing! But Burgoyne's Indians +murdered her, and a fiend called The Wyandot Panther scalped her, +they say--all that beautiful, silky, long hair! But Burgoyne did +not hang him, Heaven only knows why, for they said Burgoyne was a +gentleman and an honorable soldier!<br> +<br> +"Then our company forgot the tragedy, and we danced--think of it, +dear! How quickly things are forgotten! Then came the terrible news +from Oriskany! I was nearly dead with fright until your letter +arrived.... So, God help us I we danced and laughed and chattered +once more when Arnold's troops came.<br> +<br> +"I did not quite share the admiration of the women for General +Arnold. He is not finely fibred; not a man who appeals to me; +though I am very sorry for the slight that the Congress has put +upon him; and it is easy to see that he is a brave and dashing +officer, even if a trifle coarse in the grain and inclined to be a +little showy. What I liked best about him was his deep admiration +and friendship for our dear General Schuyler, which does him honor, +and doubly so because General Schuyler has few friends in politics, +and Arnold was perfectly fearless in showing his respect and +friendship for a man who could do him no favors.<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +"Dear, a strange and amusing thing has happened. A few score of +friendly Oneidas and lukewarm Onondagas came here to pay their +respects to Magdalen Brant, who, they heard, was living at our +house.<br> +<br> +"Magdalen received them; she is a sweet girl and very good to her +wild kin; and so father permitted them to camp in the empty house +in the sugar-bush, and sent them food and tobacco and enough rum to +please them without starting them war-dancing.<br> +<br> +"Now listen. You have heard me tell of the Stonish Giants--those +legendary men of stone whom the Iroquois, Hurons, Algonquins, and +Lenape stood in such dread of two hundred years ago, and whom our +historians believe to have been some lost company of Spaniards in +armor, strayed northward from Cortez's army.<br> +<br> +"Well, then, this is what occurred:<br> +<br> +"They were all at me to put on that armor which hangs in the +hall--the same suit which belonged to the first Maid-at-Arms, and +which she is painted in, and which I wore that last memorable +night--you remember.<br> +<br> +"So, to please them, I dressed in it--helmet and all--and came +down. Sir George Covert's horse stood at the stockade gate, and +somebody--I think it was General Arnold--dared me to ride it in my +armor.<br> +<br> +"Well, ... I did. Then a mad desire for a gallop seized me--had not +mounted a horse since that last ride with you--and I set spurs to +the poor beast, who was already dancing under the unaccustomed +burden, and away we tore.<br> +<br> +"My conscience! what a ride that was! and the clang of my armor set +the poor horse frantic till I could scarce govern him.<br> +<br> +"Then the absurd happened. I wheeled the horse into the pasture, +meaning to let him tire himself, for he was really running away +with me; when, all at once, I saw a hundred terror-stricken savages +rush out of the sugar-house, stand staring a second, then take to +their legs with most doleful cries and hoots and piteous howls.<br> +<br> +"'Oonah! The Stonish Giants have returned! Oonah! Oonah! The Giants +of Stone!'<br> +<br> +"My vizor was down and locked. I called out to them in Delaware, +but at the sound of my voice they ran the faster--five score +frantic barbarians! And, dear, if they have stopped running yet I +do not know it, for they never came back.<br> +<br> +"But the most absurd part of it all is that the Onondagas, who are +none too friendly with us, though they pretend to be, have told the +Cayugas that the Stonish Giants have returned to earth from +Biskoona, which is hell. And I doubt not that the dreadful news +will spread all through the Six Nations, with, perhaps, some +astonishing results to us. For scouts have already come in, +reporting trouble between General Burgoyne and his Wyandots, who +declare they have had enough of the war and did not enlist to fight +the Stonish Giants--which excuse is doubtless meaningless to +him.<br> +<br> +"And other scouts from the northwest say that St. Leger can scarce +hold the Senecas to the siege of Stanwix because of their great +loss at Oriskany, which they are inclined to attribute to spells +cast by their enemies, who enjoy the protection of the Stonish +Giants.<br> +<br> +"Is it not all mad enough for a child's dream?<br> +<br> +"Ay, life and love are dreams, dear, and a mad world spins them out +of nothing.... Forgive me ... I have been sewing on my wedding-gown +again. And it is nigh finished.<br> +<br> +"Good-night. I love you. D."</blockquote> +<p>Blindly I groped for the remaining letter and tore the seal.</p> +<blockquote>"Sir George has just had news of you from an Oneida who +says you may be here at any moment! And I, O God I terrified at my +own mad happiness, fearing myself in that meeting, begged him to +wed me on the morrow. I was insane, I think, crazed with fear, +knowing that, were I not forever beyond you, I must give myself to +you and abide in hell for all eternity!<br> +<br> +"And he was astonished, I think, but kind, as he always is; and now +the dreadful knowledge has come to me that for me there is no +refuge, no safety in marriage which I, poor fool, fled to for +sanctuary lest I do murder on my own soul!<br> +<br> +"What shall I do? What can I do? I have given my word to wed him on +the morrow. If it be mortal sin to show ingratitude to a father and +deceive a lover, what would it be to deceive a husband and disgrace +a father?<br> +<br> +"And I, silly innocent, never dreamed but that temptation ceased +within the holy bonds of wedlock--though sadness might endure +forever.<br> +<br> +"And now I know! In the imminent and instant presence of my +marriage I know that I shall love you none the less, shall tempt +and be tempted none the less. And, in this resistless, eternal +love, I may fall, dragging you down with me to our endless +punishment.<br> +<br> +"It was not the fear of punishment that kept me true to my vows +before; it was something within me, I don't know what.<br> +<br> +"But, if I were wedded with him, it would be fear of punishment +alone that could save me--not terror of flames; I could endure them +with you, but the new knowledge that has come to me that my +punishment would be the one thing I could not endure--eternity +<i>without you</i>!<br> +<br> +"Neither in heaven nor in hell may I have you. Is there no way, my +beloved? Is there no place for us?<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +"I have been to the porch to tell Sir George that I must postpone +the wedding. I did not tell him. He was standing with Magdalen +Brant, and she was crying. I did not know she had received bad +news. She said the news was bad. Perhaps Sir George can help +her.<br> +<br> +"I will tell him later that the wedding must be postponed.... I +don't know why, either. I cannot think. I can scarcely see to +write. Oh, help me once more, my darling! Do not come to Varicks'! +That is all I desire on earth! For we must never, <i>never</i>, see +each other again!"</blockquote> +<hr style="width: 25%;"> +<p>Stunned, I reeled to my feet and stumbled out into the +moonlight, staring across the misty wilderness into the east, +where, beyond the forests, somewhere, she lay, perhaps a bride.</p> +<p>A deathly chill struck through and through me. To a free man, +with one shred of pity, honor, unselfish love, that appeal must be +answered. And he were the basest man in all the world who should +ignore it and show his face at Varick Manor--were he free to +choose.</p> +<p>But I was not free; I was a military servant, pledged under +solemn oath and before God to obedience--instant, unquestioning, +unfaltering obedience.</p> +<p>And in my trembling hand I held my written orders to report at +Varick Manor.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XX"></a>XX</h2> +<h3>COCK-CROW</h3> +<br> +<p>At dawn we left the road and struck the Oneida trail north of +the river, following it swiftly, bearing a little north of east +until, towards noon, we came into the wagon-road which runs over +the Mayfield hills and down through the outlying bush farms of +Mayfield and Kingsborough.</p> +<p>Many of the houses were deserted, but not all; here and there +smoke curled from the chimney of some lonely farm; and across the +stump pasture we could see a woman laboring in the sun-scorched +fields and a man, rifle in hand, standing guard on a vantage-point +which overlooked his land.</p> +<p>Fences and gates became more frequent, crossing the rough road +every mile or two, so that we were constantly letting down and +replacing cattle-bars, unpinning rude gates, or climbing over snake +fences of split rails.</p> +<p>Once we came to a cross-roads where the fence had been +demolished and a warning painted on a rough pine board above a +wayside watering-trough.</p> +<blockquote>"WARNING!<br> +<br> +All farmers and townsfolk are hereby requested and ordered to +remove gates, stiles, cow-bars, and fences, which includes all +obstructions to the public highway, in order that the cavalry may +pass without difficulty. Any person found felling trees across this +road, or otherwise impeding the operations of cavalry by building +brush, stump, rail, or stone fences across this road, will be +arrested and tried before a court on charge of aiding and giving +comfort to the enemy. G. COVERT,<br> +<br> +"Captain Commanding Legion."</blockquote> +<p>Either this order did not apply to the cross-road which we now +filed into, or the owners of adjacent lands paid no heed to it; for +presently, a few rods ahead of us, we saw a snake fence barring the +road and a man with a pack on his back in the act of climbing over +it.</p> +<p>He was going in the same direction that we were, and seemed to +be a fur-trader laden with packets of peltry.</p> +<p>I said this to Murphy, who laughed and looked at Mount.</p> +<p>"Who carries pelts to Quebec in August?" asked Elerson, +grinning.</p> +<p>"There's the skin of a wolverine dangling from his pack," I +said, in a low voice.</p> +<p>Murphy touched Mount's arm, and they halted until the man ahead +had rounded a turn in the road; then they sprang forward, creeping +swiftly to the shelter of the undergrowth at the bend of the road, +while Elerson and I followed at an easy pace.</p> +<p>"What is it?" I asked, as we rejoined them where they were +kneeling, looking after the figure ahead.</p> +<p>"Nothing, sir; we only want to see them pelts, Tim and me."</p> +<p>"Do you know the man?" I demanded.</p> +<p>Murphy gazed musingly at Mount through narrowed eyes. Mount, in +a brown study, stared back.</p> +<p>"Phwere th' divil have I seen him, I dunnoa!" muttered Murphy. +"Jack, 'tis wan mush-rat looks like th' next, an' all thrappers has +the same cut to them! Yonder's no thrapper!"</p> +<p>"Nor peddler," added Mount; "the strap of the Delaware baskets +never bowed his legs."</p> +<p>"Thrue, avick! Wisha, lad, 'tis horses he knows better than +snow-shoes, bed-plates, an' thrip-sticks! An' I've seen him, I +think!"</p> +<p>"Where?" I asked.</p> +<p>He shook his head, vacantly staring. Moved by the same impulse, +we all started forward; the man was not far ahead, but our +moccasins made no noise in the dust and we closed up swiftly on him +and were at his elbow before he heard us.</p> +<p>Under the heavy sunburn the color faded in his cheeks when he +saw us. I noted it, but that was nothing strange considering the +perilous conditions of the country and the sudden shock of our +appearance.</p> +<p>"Good-day, friend," cried Mount, cheerily.</p> +<p>"Good-day, friends," he replied, stammering as though for lack +of breath.</p> +<p>"God save our country, friend," added Elerson, gravely.</p> +<p>"God save our country, friends," repeated the man.</p> +<p>So far, so good. The man, a thick, stocky, heavy-eyed fellow, +moistened his broad lips with his tongue, peered furtively at me, +and instantly dropped his eyes. At the same instant memory stirred +within me; a vague recollection of those heavy, black eyes, of that +broad, bow-legged figure set me pondering.</p> +<p>"Me fri'nd," purred Murphy, persuasively, "is th' Frinch +thrappers balin' August peltry f'r to sell in Canady?"</p> +<p>"I've a few late pelts from the lakes," muttered the man, +without looking up.</p> +<p>"Domned late," cried Murphy, gayly. "Sure they do say, if ye +dhraw a summer mink an' turrn th' pelt inside out like a glove, the +winther fur will sprout inside--wid fashtin' an' prayer."</p> +<p>The man bent his eyes obstinately on the ground; instead of +smiling he had paled.</p> +<p>"Have you the skin of a wampum bird in that bale?" asked Mount, +pleasantly.</p> +<p>Elerson struck the pack with the flat of his hand; the mangy +wolverine pelt crackled.</p> +<p>"Green hides! Green hides!" laughed Mount, sarcastically. "Come, +my friend, we're your customers. Down with your bales and I'll +buy."</p> +<p>Murphy had laid a heavy hand on the man's shoulder, halting him +short in his tracks; Elerson, rifle cradled in the hollow of his +left arm, poked his forefinger into the bales, then sniffed at the +aperture.</p> +<p>"There <i>are</i> green hides there!" he exclaimed, stepping +back. "Jack, slip that pack off!"</p> +<p>The man started forward, crying out that he had no time to +waste, but Murphy jerked him back by the collar and Elerson seized +his right arm.</p> +<p>"Wait!" I said, sharply. "You cannot stop a man like this on the +highway!"</p> +<p>"You don't know us, sir," replied Mount, impudently.</p> +<p>"Come, Colonel Ormond," added Elerson, almost savagely. "You're +our captain no longer. Give way, sir. Answer for your own men, and +we'll answer to Danny Morgan!"</p> +<p>Mount, struggling to unfasten the pack, looked over his huge +shoulders at me.</p> +<p>"Not that we're not fond of you, sir; but we know this old fox +now--"</p> +<p>"You lie!" shrieked the man, hurling his full weight at Murphy +and tearing his right arm free from Elerson's grip.</p> +<p>There came a flash, an explosion; through a cloud of smoke I saw +the fellow's right arm stretched straight up in the air, his hand +clutching a smoking pistol, and Elerson holding the arm rigid in a +grip of steel.</p> +<a name="357.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/357.jpg"><img src="images/357.jpg" +width="50%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"INSTANTLY MOUNT TRIPPED THE MAN".</b></p> +<p>Instantly Mount tripped the man flat on his face in the dust, +and Murphy jerked his arms behind his back, tying them fast at the +wrists with a cord which Elerson cut from the pack and flung to +him.</p> +<p>"Rip up thim bales, Jack!" said Murphy. "Yell find them full o' +powther an' ball an' cutlery, sorr, or I'm a liar!" he added to me. +"This limb o' Lucifer is wan o' Francy McCraw's renegados!--Danny +Redstock, sorr, th' tirror av the Sacandaga!"</p> +<p>Redstock! I had seen him at Broadalbin that evening in May, +threatening the angry settlers with his rifle, when Dorothy and the +Brandt-Meester and I had ridden over with news of smoke in the +hills.</p> +<p>Murphy tied the prostrate man's legs, pulled him across the +dusty road to the bushes, and laid him on his back under a great +maple-tree.</p> +<p>Mount, knife in hand, ripped up the bales of crackling peltry, +and Elerson delved in among the skins, flinging them right and left +in his impatient search.</p> +<p>"There's no powder here," he exclaimed, rising to his knees on +the road and staring at Mount; "nothing but badly cured beaver and +mangy musk-rat."</p> +<p>"Well, he baled 'em to conceal something!" insisted Mount. "No +man packs in this moth-eaten stuff for love of labor. What's that +parcel in the bottom?"</p> +<p>"Not powder," replied Elerson, tossing it out, where it +rebounded, crackling.</p> +<p>"Squirrel pelts," nodded Mount, as I picked up the packet and +looked at the sealed cords. The parcel was addressed: "General +Barry St. Leger, in camp before Stanwix." I sat down on the grass +and began to open it, when a groan from the prostrate prisoner +startled me. He had struggled to a sitting posture, and was facing +me, eyes bulging from their sockets. Every vestige of color had +left his visage.</p> +<p>"For God's sake don't open that!" he gasped--"there is naught +there, sir--"</p> +<p>"Silence!" roared Mount, glaring at him, while Murphy and +Elerson, dropping their armfuls of pelts, came across the road to +the bank where I sat.</p> +<p>"I will not be silent!" screamed the man, rocking to and fro on +the ground. "I did not do that!--I know nothing of what that packet +holds! A Mohawk runner gave it to me--I mean that I found it on the +trail--"</p> +<p>The riflemen stared at him in contempt while I cut the strings +of the parcel and unrolled the bolt of heavy miller's cloth.</p> +<p>At first I did not comprehend what all that mass of fluffy hair +could be. A deep gasp from Mount enlightened me, and I dropped the +packet in a revulsion of horror indescribable. For the parcel was +fairly bursting with tightly packed scalps.</p> +<p>In the deathly silence I heard Redstock's hoarse breathing. +Mount knelt down and gently lifted a heavy mass of dark, silky +hair.</p> +<p>At last Elerson broke the silence, speaking in a strangely +gentle and monotonous voice.</p> +<p>"I think this hair was Janet McCrea's. I saw her many times at +Half-moon. No maid in Tryon County had hair like hers."</p> +<p>Shuddering, Mount lifted a long braid of dark-brown hair +fastened to a hoop painted blue. And Elerson, in that strange +monotone, continued speaking:</p> +<p>"The hair on this scalp is braided to show that the woman was a +mother; the skin stretched on a blue hoop confirms it.</p> +<p>"The murderer has painted the skin yellow with red dots to +represent tears shed for the dead by her family. There is a +death-maul painted below in black; it shows how she was +killed."</p> +<p>He laid the scalp back very carefully. Under the mass of hair a +bit of paper stuck out, and I drew it from the dreadful packet. It +was a sealed letter directed to General St. Leger, and I opened and +read the contents aloud in the midst of a terrible silence.</p> +<blockquote>"SACANDAGA VLAIE,<br> +<i>August 17, 1777</i><br> +<br> +" <i>General Barry St. Leger</i><br> +<br> +"SIR,--I send you under care of Daniel Redstock the first packet of +scalps, cured, dried, hooped, and painted; four dozen in all, at +twenty dollars a dozen, which will be eighty dollars. This you will +please pay to Daniel Redstock, as I need money for tobacco and rum +for the men and the Senecas who are with me.<br> +<br> +"Return invoice with payment acquitted by the bearer, who will know +where to find me. Below I have prepared a true invoice. Your very +humble servant,<br> +<br> +"F. MCCRAW.<br> +<br> +<br> +"<i>Invoice</i>.<br> +<br> +(6) Six scalps of farmers, green hoops to show they were killed<br> +in their fields; a large white circle for the sun, showing<br> +it was day; black bullet mark on three; hatchet on two.<br> +<br> +(2) Two of settlers, surprised and killed in their houses or +barns;<br> +hoops red; white circle for the sun; a little red foot to show<br> +they died fighting. Both marked with bullet symbol.<br> +<br> +(4) Four of settlers. Two marked by little yellow flames to +show<br> +how they died. (My Senecas have had no prisoners for<br> +burning since August third.) One a rebel clergyman, his<br> +band tied to the scalp-hoop, and a little red foot under a red<br> +cross painted on the skin. (He killed two of my men before<br> +we got him.) One, a poor scalp, the hair gray and<br> +thin; the hoop painted brown. (An old man whom we<br> +found in bed in a rebel house.)<br> +<br> +(12) Twelve of militia soldiers; stretched on black hoops four +inches<br> +in diameter, inside skin painted red; a black circle showing<br> +they were outposts surprised at night; hatchet as usual.<br> +<br> +(12) Twelve of women; one unbraided--a very fine scalp (bought<br> +of a Wyandot from Burgoyne's army), which I paid full<br> +price for; nine braided, hoops blue, red tear-marks; two<br> +very gray; black hoops, plain brown color inside; death-maul<br> +marked in red.<br> +<br> +(6) Six of boys' scalps; small green hoops; red tears; symbols<br> +in black of castete, knife, and bullet.<br> +<br> +(5) Five of girls' scalps; small yellow hoops. Marked with the<br> +Seneca symbol to whom they were delivered before scalping.<br> +<br> +(l) One box of birch-bark containing an infant's scalp; very +little<br> +hair, but well dried and cured. (I must ask full price<br> +for this.)<br> +<br> +48 scalps assorted, @ 20 dollars a dozen..............80 +dollars.<br> +<br> +"Received payment, F. McCRAW."</blockquote> +<p>The ghastly face of the prisoner turned livid, and he shrieked +as Mount caught him by the collar and dragged him to his feet.</p> +<p>"Jack," I said, hoarsely, "the law sends that man before a +court."</p> +<p>"Court be damned!" growled Mount, as Elerson uncoiled the +pack-rope, flung one end over a maple limb above, and tied a +running noose on the other end.</p> +<p>Murphy crowded past me to seize the prisoner, but I caught him +by the arm and pushed him aside.</p> +<p>"Men!" I said, angrily; "I don't care whose command you are +under. I'm an officer, and you'll listen to me and obey me with +respect. Murphy!"</p> +<p>The Irishman gave me a savage stare.</p> +<p>"By God!" I cried, cocking my rifle, "if one of you dares +disobey, I'll shoot him where he stands! Murphy! Stand aside! +Mount, bring that prisoner here!"</p> +<p>There was a pause; then Murphy touched his cap and stepped back +quietly, nodding to Mount, who shuffled forward, pushing the +prisoner and darting a venomous glance at me.</p> +<p>"Redstock," I said, "where is McCraw?"</p> +<p>A torrent of filthy abuse poured out of the prisoner's writhing +mouth. He cursed us, threatening us with a terrible revenge from +McCraw if we harmed a hair of his head.</p> +<p>Astonished, I saw that he had mistaken my attitude for one of +fear. I strove to question him, but he insolently refused all +information. My men ground their teeth with impatience, and I saw +that I could control them no longer.</p> +<p>So I gave what color I could to the lawless act of justice, +partly to save my waning authority, partly to save them the +consequences of executing a prisoner who might give valuable +information to the authorities in Albany.</p> +<p>I ordered Elerson to hold the prisoner and adjust the noose; +Murphy and Mount to the rope's end. Then I said: "Prisoner, this +field-court finds you guilty of murder and orders your execution. +Have you anything to say before sentence is carried out?"</p> +<p>The wretch did not believe we were in earnest. I nodded to +Elerson, who drew the noose tight; the prisoner's knees gave way, +and he screamed; but Mount and Murphy jerked him up, and the rope +strangled the screech in his throat.</p> +<p>Sickened, I bent my head, striving to count the seconds as he +hung twisting and quivering under the maple limb.</p> +<p>Would he never die? Would those spasms never end?</p> +<p>"Shtep back, sorr, if ye plaze, sorr," said Murphy, gently. +"Sure, sorr, ye're as white as a sheet. Walk away quiet-like; ye're +not used to such things, sorr."</p> +<p>I was not, indeed; I had never seen a man done to death in cold +blood. Yet I fought off the sickening faintness that clutched at my +heart; and at last the dangling thing hung limp and relaxed, +turning slowly round and round in mid-air.</p> +<p>Mount nodded to Murphy and fell to digging with a sharpened +stick. Elerson quietly lighted his pipe and aided him, while Murphy +shaved off a white square of bark on the maple-tree under the +slow-turning body, and I wrote with the juice of an elderberry:</p> +<p>"Daniel Redstock, a child murderer, executed by American +Riflemen for his crimes, under order of George Ormond, Colonel of +Rangers, August 19, 1777. Renegades and Outlaws take warning!"</p> +<p>When Mount and Elerson had finished the shallow grave, they laid +the scalps of the murdered in the hole, stamped down the earth, and +covered it with sticks and branches lest a prowling outlaw or +Seneca disinter the remains and reap a ghastly reward for their +redemption from General the Hon. Barry St. Leger, Commander of the +British, Hessians, Loyal Colonials, and Indians, in camp before +Fort Stanwix.</p> +<p>As we left that dreadful spot, and before I could interfere to +prevent them, the three riflemen emptied their pieces into the +swinging corpse--a useless, foolish, and savage performance, and I +said so sharply.</p> +<p>They were very docile and contrite and obedient now, explaining +that it was a customary safeguard, as hanged men had been revived +more than once--a flimsy excuse, indeed!</p> +<p>"Very well," I said; "your shots may draw McCraw's whole force +down on us. But doubtless you know much more than your +officers--like the militia at Oriskany."</p> +<p>The reproof struck home; Mount muttered his apology; Murphy +offered to carry my rifle if I was fatigued.</p> +<p>"It was thoughtless, I admit that," said Elerson, looking +backward, uneasily. "But we're close to the patroon's +boundary."</p> +<p>"We're within bounds now," said Mount. "Fonda's Bush lies over +there to the southeast, and the Vlaie is yonder below the +mountain-notch. This wagon-track runs into the Fish-House +road."</p> +<p>"How far are we from the manor?" I asked.</p> +<p>"About two miles and a half, sir," replied Mount. "Doubtless +some of Sir George Covert's horsemen heard our shots, and we'll +meet 'em cantering out to investigate."</p> +<p>I had not imagined we were as near as that. A painful thrill +passed through me; my heart leaped, beating feverishly in my +breast.</p> +<p>Minute after minute dragged as we filed swiftly onward, +mechanically treading in each other's tracks. I strove to consider, +to think, to picture the sad, strange home-coming--to see her as +she would stand, stunned, astounded that I had ignored her appeal +to help her by my absence.</p> +<p>I could not think; my thoughts were chaos; my brain throbbed +heavily; I fixed my hot eyes on the road and strode onward, numbed, +seeing, hearing nothing.</p> +<p>And, of a sudden, a shout rang out ahead; horsemen in line +across the road, rifles on thigh, moved forward towards us; an +officer reversed his sword, drove it whizzing into the scabbard, +and spurred forward, followed by a trooper, helmet flashing in the +sun.</p> +<p>"Ormond!" cried the officer, flinging himself from his horse and +holding out both white-gloved hands.</p> +<p>"Sir George, ... I am glad to see you.... I am very--happy," I +stammered, taking his hands.</p> +<p>"Cousin Ormond!" came a timid voice behind me.</p> +<p>I turned; Ruyven, in full uniform of a cornet, flung himself +into my arms.</p> +<p>I could scarce see him for the mist in my eyes; I pressed the +boy close to my breast and kissed him on both cheeks.</p> +<p>Utterly unable to speak, I sat down on a log, holding Sir +George's gloved hand, my arm on Ruyven's laced shoulder. An immense +fatigue came over me; I had not before realized the pace we had +kept up for these two months nor the strain I had been under.</p> +<p>"Singleton!" called out Sir George, "take the men to the +barracks; take my horse, too--I'll walk back. And, Singleton, just +have your men take these fine fellows up behind"--with a gesture +towards the riflemen. "And see that they lack for nothing in +quarters!"</p> +<p>Grinning sheepishly, the riflemen climbed up behind the troopers +assigned them; the troop cantered off, and Sir George pointed to +Ruyven's horse, indicating that it was for me when I was +rested.</p> +<p>"We heard shots," he said; "I mistrusted it might be a salute +from you, but came ready for anything, you see--Lord! How thin +you've grown, Ormond!"</p> +<p>"I'm cornet, cousin!" burst out Ruyven, hugging me again in his +excitement. "I charged with the squadron when we scattered +McDonald's outlaws! A man let drive at me--"</p> +<p>"Oh, come, come," laughed Sir George, "Colonel Ormond has had +more bullets driven at him than our Legion pouches in their +bullet-bags!"</p> +<p>"A man let drive at me!" breathed Ruyven, in rapture. "I was not +hit, cousin! A man let drive at me, and I heard the bullet!"</p> +<p>"Nonsense!" said Sir George, mischievously; "you heard a +bumble-bee!"</p> +<p>"He always says that," retorted Ruyven, looking at me. "I know +it was a bullet, for it went zo-o-zip-tsing-g! right past my ear; +and Sergeant West shouted, 'Cut him down, sir!' ... But another +trooper did that. However, I rode like the devil!"</p> +<p>"Which way?" inquired Sir George, in pretended anxiety. And we +all laughed.</p> +<p>"It's good to see you back all safe and sound," said Sir George, +warmly. "Sir Lupus will be delighted and the children half crazed. +You should hear them talk of their hero!"</p> +<p>"Dorothy will be glad, too," said Ruyven. "You'll be in time for +the wedding."</p> +<p>I strove to smile, facing Sir George with an effort. His face, +in the full sunlight, seemed haggard and careworn, and the light +had died out in his eyes.</p> +<p>"For the wedding," he repeated. "We are to be wedded to-morrow. +You did not know that, did you?"</p> +<p>"Yes; I did know it. Dorothy wrote me," I said. A numbed feeling +crept over me; I scarce heard the words I uttered when I wished him +happiness. He held my proffered hand a second, then dropped it +listlessly, thanking me for my good wishes in a low voice.</p> +<p>There was a vague, troubled expression in his eyes, a strange +lack of feeling. The thought came to me like a stab that perhaps he +had learned that the woman he was to wed did not love him.</p> +<p>"Did Dorothy expect me?" I asked, miserably.</p> +<p>"I think not," said Sir George.</p> +<p>"She believed you meant to follow Arnold to Stanwix," broke in +Ruyven. "I should have done it! I regard General Arnold as the most +magnificent soldier of the age!" he added.</p> +<p>"I was ordered to Varick Manor," I said, looking at Sir George. +"Otherwise I might have followed Arnold. As it is I cannot stay for +the wedding; I must report at Stillwater, leaving by nine o'clock +in the morning."</p> +<p>"Lord, Ormond, what a fire-eater you have become!" he said, +smiling from his abstraction. "Are you ready to mount Ruyven's nag +and come home to a good bed and a glass of something neat?"</p> +<p>"Let Ruyven ride," I said; "I need the walk, Sir George."</p> +<p>"Need the walk!" he exclaimed. "Have you not had walks +enough?--and your moccasins and buckskins in rags!"</p> +<p>But I could not endure to ride; a nerve-racking restlessness was +on me, a desire for movement, for utter exhaustion, so that I could +no longer have even strength to think.</p> +<p>Ruyven, protesting, climbed into his dragoon-saddle; Sir George +walked beside him and I with Sir George.</p> +<p>Long, soft August lights lay across the leafy road; the +blackberries were in heavy fruit; scarlet thimble-berries, +over-ripe, dropped from their pithy cones as we brushed the sprays +with our sleeves.</p> +<p>Sir George was saying: "No, we have nothing more to fear from +McDonald's gang, but a scout came in, three days since, bringing +word of McCraw's outlaws who have appeared in the west--"</p> +<p>He stopped abruptly, listening to a sound that I also heard; the +sudden drumming of unshod hoofs on the road behind us.</p> +<p>"What the devil--" he began, then cocked his rifle; I threw up +mine; a shrill cock-crow rang out above the noise of tramping +horses; a galloping mass of horsemen burst into view behind us, +coming like an avalanche.</p> +<p>"McCraw!" shouted Sir George. Ruyven fired from his saddle; Sir +George's rifle and mine exploded together; a horse and rider went +down with a crash, but the others came straight on, and the +cock-crow rang out triumphantly above the roar of the rushing +horses.</p> +<p>"Ruyven!" I shouted, "ride for your life!"</p> +<p>"I won't!" he cried, furiously; but I seized his bridle, swung +his frightened horse, and struck the animal across the buttocks +with clubbed rifle. Away tore the maddened beast, almost unseating +his rider, who lost both stirrups at the first frantic bound and +clung helplessly to his saddle-pommel while the horse carried him +away like the wind.</p> +<p>Then I sprang into the ozier thicket, Sir George at my side, and +ran a little way; but they caught us, even before we reached the +timber, and threw us to the ground, tying us up like basted capons +with straps from their saddles. Maltreated, struck, kicked, mauled, +and dragged out to the road, I looked for instant death; but a lank +creature flung me across his saddle, face downward, and, in a +second, the whole band had mounted, wheeled about, and were +galloping westward, ventre à terre.</p> +<p>Almost dead from the saddle-pommel which knocked the breath from +my body, suffocated and strangled with dust, I hung dangling there +in a storm of flying sticks and pebbles. Twice consciousness fled, +only to return with the blood pounding in my ears. A third time my +senses left me, and when they returned I lay in a cleared space in +the woods beside Sir George, the sun shining full in my face, flung +on the ground near a fire, over which a kettle was boiling. And on +every side of us moved McCraw's riders, feeding their horses, +smoking, laughing, playing at cards, or coming up to sniff the +camp-kettle and poke the boiling meat with pointed sticks.</p> +<p>Behind them, squatted in rows, sat two dozen Indians, watching +us in ferocious silence.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> +<h3>THE CRISIS</h3> +<br> +<p>For a while I lay there stupefied, limp-limbed, lifeless, +closing my aching eyes under the glittering red rays of the +westering sun.</p> +<p>My parched throat throbbed and throbbed; I could scarcely stir, +even to close my swollen hands where they had tied my wrists, +although somebody had cut the cords that bound me.</p> +<p>"Sir George," I said, in a low voice.</p> +<p>"Yes, I am here," he replied, instantly.</p> +<p>"Are you hurt?"</p> +<p>"No, Ormond. Are you?"</p> +<p>"No; very tired; that is all."</p> +<p>I rolled over; my head reeled and I held it in my benumbed +hands, looking at Sir George, who lay on his side, cheek pillowed +on his arms.</p> +<p>"This is a miserable end of it all," he said, with calm +bitterness. "But that it involves you, I should not dare blame +fortune for the fool I acted. I have my deserts; but it's cruel for +you."</p> +<p>The sickening whirling in my head became unendurable. I lay +down, facing him, eyes closed.</p> +<p>"It was not your fault," I said, dully.</p> +<p>"There is no profit in discussing that," he muttered. "They took +us alive instead of scalping us; while there's life there's hope, +... a little hope.... But I'd sooner they'd finish me here than rot +in their stinking prison-ships.... Ormond, are you awake?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Sir George."</p> +<p>"If they--if the Indians get us, and--and begin their--you +know--"</p> +<p>"Yes; I know."</p> +<p>"If they begin ... <i>that</i> ... insult them, taunt them, +sneer at them, laugh at them!--yes, laugh at them! Do anything to +enrage them, so they'll--they'll finish quickly.... Do you +understand?"</p> +<p>"Yes," I muttered; and my voice sounded miles away.</p> +<p>He lay brooding for a while; when I opened my eyes he broke out +fretfully: "How was I to dream that McCraw could be so near!--that +he dared raid us within a mile of the house! Oh, I could die of +shame, Ormond! die of shame!... But I won't die that way; oh no," +he added, with a frightful smile that left his face distorted and +white.</p> +<p>He raised himself on one elbow.</p> +<p>"Ormond," he said, staring at vacancy, "what trivial matters a +man thinks of in the shadow of death. I can't consider it; I can't +be reconciled to it; I can't even pray. One absurd idea possesses +me--that Singleton will have the Legion now; and he's a slack +drill-master--he is, indeed!... I've a million things to think +of--an idle life to consider, a misspent career to repent, but the +time is too short, Ormond.... Perhaps all that will come at the +instant of--of--"</p> +<p>"Death," I said, wearily.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes; that's it, death. I'm no coward; I'm calm enough--but +I'm stunned. I can't think for the suddenness of it!... And you +just home; and Ruyven there, snuggled close to you as a +house-cat--and then that sound of galloping, like a fly-stung herd +of cattle in a pasture!"</p> +<p>"I think Ruyven is safe," I said, closing my eyes.</p> +<p>"Yes, he's safe. Nobody chased him; they'll know at the manor by +this time; they knew long ago.... My men will be out.... Where are +we, Ormond?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," I murmured, drowsily. The months of fatigue, the +unbroken strain, the feverish weeks spent in endless trails, the +constant craving for movement to occupy my thoughts, the sleepless +nights which were the more unendurable because physical exhaustion +could not give me peace or rest, now told on me. I drowsed in the +very presence of death; and the stupor settled heavily, bringing, +for the first time since I left Varick Manor, rest and immunity +from despair or even desire.</p> +<p>I cared for nothing: hope of her was dead; hope of life might +die and I was acquiescent, contented, glad of the end. I had +endured too much.</p> +<p>My sleep--or unconsciousness--could not have lasted long; the +sun was not yet level with my eyes when I roused to find Sir George +tugging at my sleeve and a man in a soiled and tarnished scarlet +uniform standing over me.</p> +<p>But that brief respite from the strain had revived me; a bucket +of cold water stood near the fire, and I thrust my burning face +into it, drinking my fill, while the renegade in scarlet bawled at +me and fumed and cursed, demanding my attention to what he was +saying.</p> +<p>"You damned impudent rebel!" he yelled; "am I to stand around +here awaiting your pleasure while you swill your skin full?"</p> +<p>I wiped my lips with my torn hands, and got to my feet +painfully, a trifle dizzy for a moment, but perfectly able to stand +and to comprehend.</p> +<p>"I'm asking you," he snarled, "why we can't send a flag to your +people without their firing on it?"</p> +<p>"I don't know what you mean," I said.</p> +<p>"I do," said Sir George, blandly.</p> +<p>"Oh, you do, eh?" growled the renegade, turning on him with a +scowl. "Then tell me why our flag of truce is not respected, if you +can."</p> +<p>"Nobody respects a flag from outlaws," said Sir George, +coolly.</p> +<p>The fellow's face hardened and his eyes blazed. He started to +speak, then shut his mouth with a snap, turned on his heel, and +strode across the treeless glade to where his noisy riders were +saddling up, tightening girths, buckling straps, and examining the +unshod feet of their horses or smoothing out the burrs from mane +and tail. The red sun glittered on their spurs, rifles, and the +flat buckles of their cross-belts. Their uniform was scarlet and +green, but some wore beaded shirts of scarlet holland, belted in +with Mohawk wampum, and some were partly clothed like Cayuga +Indians and painted with Seneca war-symbols--a grewsome sight.</p> +<p>There were savages moving about the fire--or I took them for +savages, until one half-naked lout, lounging near, taunted me with +a Scotch burr in his throat, and I saw, in his horribly painted +face, a pair of flashing eyes fixed on me. <i>And the eyes were +blue</i>.</p> +<p>There was something in that ghastly masquerade so horrible, so +unspeakably revolting, that a shiver of pure fear touched me in +every nerve. Except for the voice and the eyes, he looked the +counterpart of the Senecas moving about near us; his skin, bare to +the waist, was stained a reddish copper hue; his black hair was +shaved except for the knot; war-paint smeared visage and chest, and +two crimson quills rose from behind his left ear, tied to the +scalp-lock.</p> +<p>"Let him alone; don't answer him; he's worse than the Indians," +whispered Sir George.</p> +<p>Among the savages I saw two others with light eyes, and a third +I never should have suspected had not Sir George pointed out his +feet, which were planted on the ground like the feet of a white man +when he walked, and not parallel or toed-in.</p> +<p>But now the loud-voiced riders were climbing into their saddles; +the officer in scarlet, who had cursed and questioned us, came +towards us leading a horse.</p> +<p>"You treacherous whelps!" he said, fiercely; "if a flag can't go +to you safely, we must send one of you with it. By Heaven! you're +both fit for roasting, and it sickens me to send you! But one of +you goes and the other stays. Now fight it out--and be quick!"</p> +<p>An amazed silence followed; then Sir George asked why one of us +was to be liberated and the other kept prisoner.</p> +<p>"Because your sneaking rebel friends fire on the white flag, I +tell you!" cried the fellow, furiously; "and we've got to get a +message to them. You are Captain Sir George Covert, are you not? +Very good. Your rebel friends have taken Captain Walter Butler and +mean to hang him. Now you tell your people that we've got Colonel +Ormond and we'll exchange you both, a colonel and a captain, for +Walter Butler. Do you understand? That's what we value you at; a +rebel colonel and a rebel captain for a single loyal captain."</p> +<p>Sir George turned to me. "There is not the faintest chance of an +exchange," he said, in French.</p> +<p>"Stop that!" threatened the man in scarlet, laying his hand on +his hanger. "Speak English or Delaware, do you hear?"</p> +<p>"Sir George," I said, "you will go, of course. I shall remain +and take the chance of exchange."</p> +<p>"Pardon," he said, coolly; "I remain here and pay the piper for +the tune I danced to. You will relieve me of my obligations by +going," he added, stiffly.</p> +<p>"No," I said; "I tell you I don't care. Can't you understand +that a man may not care?"</p> +<p>"I understand," he replied, staring at me; "and I am that man, +Ormond. Come, get into your saddle. Good-bye. It is all right; it +is perfectly just, and--it doesn't matter."</p> +<p>A shrill voice broke out across the cleared circle. "Billy +Bones! Billy Bones! Hae ye no flints f'r the lads that ride? Losh, +mon, we'll no be ganging north the day, an' ye bide droolin' there +wi' the blitherin' Jacobites!"</p> +<p>"The flints are in McBarron's wagon! Wait, wait, Francy McCraw!" +And he hurried away, bawling for the teamster McBarron.</p> +<p>"Sir George," I said, "take the chance, in Heaven's name, for I +shall not go. Don't dispute; don't stand there! Man, man, don't +delay, I tell you, or they'll change their plan!"</p> +<p>"I won't go," he said, sharply. "Ormond, am I a contemptible +poltroon that I should leave you here to endure the consequences of +my own negligence? Do you think I could accept life at that +price?"</p> +<p>"I tell you to go!" I said, harshly. A horrid hope, a terrible +and unworthy temptation, had seized me like a thing from hell. I +trembled; sweat broke out on me, and I set my teeth, striving to +think as the woman I had lost would have had me think. "Quick!" I +muttered, "don't wait, don't delay; don't talk to me, I tell you! +Go! Go! Get out of my sight--"</p> +<p>And all the time, pounding in my brain, the pulse beat out a +shameful thought; and mad temptations swarmed, whispering close to +my ringing ears that his death was my only chance, my only possible +salvation--and hers!</p> +<p>"Go!" I stammered, pushing him towards the horse; "get into your +saddle! Quick, I tell you--I--I can't endure this! I am not made to +endure everything, I tell you! Can't you have a little mercy on me +and leave me?"</p> +<p>"I refuse," he said, sullenly.</p> +<p>"You refuse!" I stammered, beside myself with the torture I +could no longer bear. "Then stand aside! I'll go--I'll go if it +costs me--No! No! I can't; I can't, I tell you; it costs too +much!... Damn you, you may have the woman I love, but you shall +leave me her respect!"</p> +<p>"Ormond! Ormond!" he cried, in sorrowful amazement; but I was +clean out of my head now, and I closed with him, dragging him +towards the horse.</p> +<p>He shook himself free, glaring at me.</p> +<p>"I am ... your superior ... officer!" I panted, advancing on +him; "I order you to go!"</p> +<p>He looked me narrowly in the eyes. "And I refuse obedience," he +said, hoarsely. "You are out of your mind!"</p> +<p>"Then, by God!" I shrieked, "I'll force you!"</p> +<p>Billy Bones, Francy McCraw, and a Seneca came hastening up. I +leaped on McCraw and dealt him a blow full in his bony face, +splitting the lean cheek open.</p> +<p>They overpowered me before I could repeat the blow; they flung +me down, kicking and pounding me as I lay there, but the +death-stroke I awaited was withheld; the castete of the Seneca was +jerked from his fist.</p> +<p>Then they seized Sir George and forced him into his saddle, +calling on four troopers to pilot him within sight of the manor and +shoot him if he attempted to return.</p> +<p>"You tell them that if they refuse to exchange Walter Butler for +Ormond, we've torments for Colonel Ormond that won't kill him under +a week!" roared Billy Bones.</p> +<p>McCraw, stupefied with amazement and rage, stood mopping the +blood from his blotched face, staring at me out of his crazy blue +eyes. For a moment his hand fiddled with his hatchet, then Bones +shoved him away, and he strode off towards his horsemen, who were +forming in column of fours.</p> +<p>"You tell 'em," shouted Bones, "that before we finish him +they'll hear his screams in Albany! If they want Colonel Ormond," +he added, his voice rising to a yell, "tell 'em to send a single +man into the sugar-bush. But if they hang Walter Butler, or if you +try to catch us with your cavalry, we'll take Ormond where we'll +have leisure to see what our Senecas can do with him! Now ride! you +damned--"</p> +<p>He struck Sir George's horse with the flat of his hanger; the +horse bounded off, followed by four of McCraw's riders, pistols +cocked and hatchets loosened.</p> +<p>Bruised, dazed, exhausted, I lay there, listening to the +receding thudding of their horses' feet on the moss.</p> +<p>The crisis was over, and I had won--not as I might have chosen +to win, but by a compromise with death for deliverance from +temptation.</p> +<p>If it was the compromise of a crazed creature, insane from +mental and physical exhaustion, it was not the compromise of a weak +man; I did not desire death as long as she lived. I dreaded to +leave her alone in the world. But, though she loved him not--and +did love me--I could not accept the future through his sacrifice +and live to remember that he had laid down his life for a friend +who desired from him more than he had renounced.</p> +<p>I was perfectly sane now; a strange calmness came over me; my +mind was clear and composed; my meditations serene. Free at last +from hope, from sorrowful passion, from troubled desire, I lay +there thinking, watching the long, red sun-rays slanting through +the woods.</p> +<p>Gratitude to God for a life ended ere I fell from His grace, ere +temptation entangled me beyond deliverance; humble pride in the +honorable traditions that I had received and followed untainted; +deep, reverent thankfulness for the strength vouchsafed me in this +supreme crisis of my life--the strength of a madman, perhaps, but +still strength to be true, the power to renounce--these were the +meditations that brought me rest and a quietude I had never known +when death seemed a long way off and life on earth eternal.</p> +<p>The setting sun crimsoned the pines; the riders were gathered +along the hill-side, bending far out in their saddles to scan the +valley below. McCraw, his white face bound with a bloody rag, drew +his straight claymore and wound the tattered tartan around his +wrist, motioning Billy Bones to ride on.</p> +<p>"March!" he cried, in his shrill voice, laying his claymore +level; and the long files moved off, spurs and scabbards clanking, +horses crowding and trampling in, faster and faster, till a far +command set them trotting, then galloping away into the west, where +the kindling sky reddened the world.</p> +<p>The world!--it would be the same to-morrow without me: that +maple-tree would not have changed a leaf; that tiny, hovering, +gauze-winged creature, drifting through the calm air, would be +alive when I was dead.</p> +<p>It was difficult to understand. I repeated it to myself again +and again, but the phrases had no meaning to me.</p> +<p>The sun set; cool, violet lights lay over the earth; a thrush, +awakened by the sweetness of the twilight from his long summer +moping, whistled timidly, tentatively; then the silvery, evanescent +notes floated away, away, in endless, heavenly serenity.</p> +<p>A soft, leather-shod foot nudged me; I sat up, then rose, +holding out my wrists. They tied me loosely; a tall warrior stepped +beside me; others fell in behind with a patter of moccasined +feet.</p> +<p>Then came an officer, pistol cocked and held muzzle up. He was +the only white man left.</p> +<p>"Forward," he said, nervously; and we started off through the +purple dusk.</p> +<p>Physical weariness and pain had left me; I moved as in a dream. +Nothing of apprehension or dismay disturbed the strange calm of my +soul; even desire for meditation left me; and a vague content +wrapped me, mind and body.</p> +<p>Distance, time, were meaningless to me now; I could go on +forever; I could lie down forever; nothing mattered; nothing could +touch me now.</p> +<p>The moon came up, flooding the woods with a creamy light; then a +little stream, sparkling like molten silver, crossed our misty +path; then a bare hill-side stretched away, pale in the moonlight, +vanishing into a luminous veil of vapor, floating over a hollow +where unseen water lay.</p> +<p>We entered a grove of still trees standing wide +apart--maple-trees, with the sap-pegs still in the bark. I sat down +on a log; the Indians seated themselves in a wide circle around me; +the renegade officer walked to the fringe of trees and stood there +motionless.</p> +<p>Time passed serenely; I had fallen drowsing, soothed by the +silvered silence; when through a dream I heard a cock-crow.</p> +<p>Around me the Indians rose, all listening. Far away a sound grew +in the night--the dull blows of horses' hoofs on sod; a shot rang +faintly, a distant cry was echoed by a long-drawn yell and a +volley.</p> +<p>The renegade officer came running back, calling out, "McCraw has +struck the Legion at the grist-mill!" In the intense silence around +me the noise of the conflict grew, increasing, then became fainter +and fainter until it died out to the westward and all was +still.</p> +<p>The Indians came crowding back from the edge of the grove, +shoving through the circle of those who guarded me, pushing, +pressing, surging around me.</p> +<p>"Give him to us!" they muttered, under their breath. "The flag +has not come; they will hang your Walter Butler! Give him to us! +The Legion cavalry is driving your riders into the west! Give him +to us! We wish to see how the Oriskany man can die!"</p> +<p>Dragged, pulled from one to another, I scarcely felt their +clutch; I scarcely felt the furtive blows that fell on me. The +officer clung to me, fighting the savages back with fist and +elbow.</p> +<p>"Wait for McCraw!" he panted. "The flag may come yet, you fools! +Would you murder him and lose Walter Butler forever? Wait till +McCraw comes, I tell you!"</p> +<p>"McCraw is riding for his life!" said a chief, fiercely.</p> +<p>"It's a lie!" said the officer; "he is drawing them to +ambush!"</p> +<p>"Give the prisoner to us!" cried the savages, closing in. "After +all, what do we care for your Walter Butler!" And again they rushed +forward with a shout.</p> +<p>Twice the officer drove them back with kicks and blows, cursing +their treachery in McCraw's absence; then, as they drew their +knives, clamoring, threatening, gathering for a last rush, into +their midst bounded an unearthly shape--a squat and hideous figure, +fluttering with scarlet rags. Arms akimbo, the thing planted itself +before me, mouthing and slavering in fury.</p> +<p>"The Toad-woman! Catrine Montour! The Toad-witch!" groaned the +Senecas, shrinking back, huddling together as the hag whirled about +and pointed at them.</p> +<p>"I want him! I want him! Give him to me!" yelped the Toad-woman. +"Fools! Do you know where you are? Do you know this grove of +maple-trees?"</p> +<p>The Indians, amazed and cowed, slunk farther back. The hag fixed +her blazing eyes on them and raised her arms.</p> +<p>"Fools! Fools!" she mouthed, "what madness brought you here to +this grove?--to this place where the Stonish Giants have returned, +riding out of Biskoona!"</p> +<p>A groan burst from the Indians; a chief raised his arms, making +the False-Faces' sign.</p> +<p>"Mother," he stammered, "we did not know! We heard that the +Stonish Giants had returned; the Onondagas sent us word, but we did +not know this grove was where they gathered from Biskoona! McCraw +sent us here to await the flag."</p> +<p>"Liar!" hissed the hag.</p> +<p>"It is the truth," muttered the chief, shuddering. "Witness if I +speak the truth, O ensigns of the three clans!"</p> +<p>And a hollow groan burst from the cowering savages. "We witness, +mother. It is the truth!"</p> +<p>"Witch!" cried the officer, in a shaking voice, "what would you +do with my prisoner? You shall not have him, by the living +God!"</p> +<p>"Senecas, take him!" howled the hag, pointing at the officer. +The fellow strove to draw his claymore, but staggered and sank to +the ground, covered under a mass of savages. Then, dragged to his +feet, they pulled him back, watching the Toad-woman for a sign.</p> +<p>"To purge this grove! To purge the earth of the Stonish Giants!" +she howled. "For this I ask this prisoner. Give him to me!--to me, +priestess of the six fires! Tiyanoga calls from behind the moon! +What Seneca dares disobey? Give him to me for a sacrifice to +Biskoona, that the Stonish ghosts be laid and the doors of fire be +closed forever!"</p> +<p>"Take him! Spare us the dreadful rites, O mother!" answered the +chief, in a quivering voice. "Slay him before us now and let us see +the color of his blood, so that we may depart in peace ere the +Stonish Giants ride forth from Biskoona and leave not one among +us!"</p> +<p>"Neah!" cried the hag, furiously. "He dies in secret!"</p> +<p>There was a silence of astonishment. Spite of their +superstitious terror, the Senecas knew that a sacrificial death, to +close Biskoona, could not occur in secret. Suddenly the chief +leaped forward and dealt me a blow with his castete. I fell, but +staggered to my feet again.</p> +<p>"Mother!" began the chief, "let him die quickly--"</p> +<p>"Silence!" screamed the hag, supporting me. "I hear, far off, +the gates of Biskoona opening! Hark! Ta-ho-ne-ho-ga-wen! The doors +open--the doors of flame! The Stonish Giants ride forth! O chief, +for your sacrilege you die!"</p> +<p>A horrified silence followed; the chief reeled back, dropping +the death-maul.</p> +<p>Suddenly a horse's iron-shod foot rang out on a stone, close at +hand. Straight through the moonlight, advancing steadily, came a +snorting horse; and, towering in the saddle, a magic shape clad in +complete steel, glittering in the moonlight.</p> +<p>"Oonah!" shrieked the hag, seizing me in both arms.</p> +<p>With an unearthly howl the Senecas fled; the Toad-woman dropped +me and bounded on the dazed renegade; he turned, crying out in +horror, stumbled, and fell headlong down the bushy slope.</p> +<p>Then, as the hag halted, she seemed to grow, straightening up, +tall, broad, superb; towering into a supple shape from which the +scarlet rags fell fluttering around her like painted +maple-leaves.</p> +<p>"Magdalen Brant!" I gasped, swaying where I stood, the blood +almost blinding me.</p> +<p>From behind two steel-clad arms seized me and dragged me +backward; I stumbled against the horse; the armored figure bent +swiftly, caught me up, swung me clear into the saddle in front, +while the armor creaked and strained and clashed with the +effort.</p> +<p>Then my head was drawn gently back, falling on a steel shoulder; +two arms were thrust under mine, seizing the bridle. The horse +wheeled towards the north, stepping quietly through the moonlight, +steadily, slowly northward, through misty woodlands and ferny +glades and deep fields swimming under the moon, across a stony +stream, up through wet meadows, into a silvery road, and across a +bridge which echoed mellow thunder under the trample of the +iron-shod horse.</p> +<p>The stockade gate was shut; an old slave opened it--a trembling +black man, who shot the bolts and tottered beside us, crying and +pressing my hand to his eyes.</p> +<p>Men came from the stables, men ran from the quarters, lanterns +glimmered, windows in the house opened, and I heard a vague clamor +growing around me, fainter now, yet dinning in my ears until a +soft, dense darkness fell, weighing on my lids till they +closed.</p> +<br> +<br> +<hr style="width: 35%;"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> +<h3>THE END OF THE BEGINNING</h3> +<br> +<p>Day broke with a thundering roll of drums. Instinctively I +stumbled out of bed, dragged on my clothes, and, half awake and +half dressed, crept to the open window. The level morning sun +blazed on acres of slanting rifles passing; a solid column of +Continental infantry, drums and fifes leading, came swinging along +the stockade; knapsacks, cross-belts, gaiters, gray with dust; +officers riding ahead with naked swords drawn, color-bearers +carrying the beautiful new standard, stars shining, red and white +stripes stirring lazily in brilliant, silken billows.</p> +<p>The morning air rang with the gusty music of the fifes, the +drums beat steadily in solid cadence to the long, rippling trample +of feet.</p> +<p>Within the stockade an incessant clamor filled the air; the +grounds around the house were packed with soldiers, some leading +out mules, some loading batt-horses, some drawing and carrying +water, some forming ranks, shouting their numbers for column of +fours.</p> +<p>Sir George Covert's riders of the Legion had halted under my +window, rifles slung, helmets strapped; a trumpeter in embroidered +jacket sat his horse in front, corded trumpet reversed flat on his +thigh.</p> +<p>Clearing my eyes with unsteady hand, I peered dizzily at the +spectacle below; my ears rang with the tumult of arrival and +departure; and, through the increasing uproar and the thundering +rhythm of the drums, memories of the past night flashed up, livid +as flames in darkness.</p> +<p>The endless columns of Continentals were still pouring by the +stockade, when, above the dinning drums, I heard my door shaking +and a voice calling me by name.</p> +<p>"Ormond! Ormond! Open the door, man!"</p> +<p>With stiff limbs dragging, I made my way to the door and pulled +back the bolt. Sir George Covert, in full uniform, sprang in and +caught my hands in his.</p> +<p>"Ormond! Ormond!" he cried, in deep reproach. "Why did you not +tell me long since that you loved her? You knew she loved you! What +blind violence have you and Dorothy done yourselves and each +other--and me, Ormond!--and yet another very dear to me--with your +mad obstinacy and mistaken chivalry!"</p> +<p>I saw the grave, kind eyes searching mine, I heard his unsteady +voice, but I could not respond. An immense fatigue chained mind and +tongue; intelligence was there, but the tension had relaxed, and I +stood dull, nerveless, my hands limp in his.</p> +<p>"Ormond," he said, gently, "we ride south in a few moments; you +will be leaving for Stillwater in an hour. Gates's left wing is +marching on Balston, and news is in by an Oneida runner that Arnold +has swept all before him; Stanwix is safe; St. Leger routed. Do you +understand? Every man in Tryon County is marching on Burgoyne! You, +too, will be on the way towards headquarters within the hour!"</p> +<p>Trembling from weakness and excitement, I could only look at him +in silence.</p> +<p>"So all is well," he said, gravely, holding my hands tighter. +"Do you understand? All is well, Ormond.... We struck McCraw at +Schell's last night and tore him to atoms. We punished the Senecas +dreadfully. We have cleared the land of the Johnsons, the Butlers, +the McDonalds, and the Mohawks, and now we're concentrating on +Burgoyne. Ormond, he is a doomed man! He can never leave this land +save as a prisoner!"</p> +<p>His grip tightened; a smile lighted his careworn face as though +a ray of pure sunshine had struck his eyes.</p> +<p>"Ormond," he said, "I have bred much mischief among us all, yet +with the kindest motives in the world. If honor and modesty forbids +an explanation, at least let me repair what I can. I have given +your cousin Dorothy her freedom; and now, before I go, I ask your +friendship. Nay, give me more--give me joy, Ormond! Man, man, must +I speak more plainly still? Must I name the bravest maid in county +Tryon? Must I say that the woman I love loves me--Magdalen +Brant?"</p> +<p>He laughed like a boy in his excitement. "We wed in Albany on +Thursday! Think of it, man! I showed her no mercy, I warrant you, +soon as I was free!"</p> +<p>He colored vividly. "Nay, that's ungallant to our Maid-at-Arms," +he stammered. "I'm flustered--you will pardon that. She rides with +us to Albany--I mean Magdalen--we wed at my aunt's house--"</p> +<p>The trumpet of the Legion was sounding persistently; the clatter +of spurred boots filled the hallway; Ruyven burst in, sabre +banging, and flung himself into my arms.</p> +<p>"Good-bye! Good-bye!" he cried. "We are marching with the left +wing to Balston. I'll write you, cousin, when we take +Burgoyne--I'll write you all about it and exactly how I +conducted!"</p> +<p>I felt the parting clasp of their hands, but scarcely saw them +through the tears of sheer weakness that filled my eyes. The +capacity for deep emotion was deadened in me; the strain had been +too great; the reaction had left me scarcely capable of realizing +the instant portent of events.</p> +<p>The mellow trampling of horses came from below. I hobbled to the +window and looked down where the troopers were riding in fours, +falling in behind a train of artillery which passed jolting and +bumping along the stockade.</p> +<p>A young girl, superbly mounted, came galloping by, and behind +her spurred Sir George Covert and Ruyven. At full speed she turned +her head and looked up at my window, and I think I never saw such +radiant happiness in any woman's face as in Magdalen Brant's when +she swept past with a gesture of adieu and swung her horse out into +the road. A general's escort and staff checked their horses to make +way for her. The officers lifted their black cockaded hats; a slim, +boyish officer, in a white-and-gold uniform, rode forward to +receive her, with a low salute that only a Frenchman could +imitate.</p> +<p>So, escorted by prancing, clattering cavalry, and surrounded by +a brilliant staff, Magdalen Brant rode away from Varicks'; and +beside her, alert, upright, transfigured, rode Sir George Covert, +whose life she had accepted only after she had paid her debt to +Dorothy by offering her own life to rescue mine.</p> +<p>Dim-eyed, I stared at the passing troops, the blurred colors of +their uniforms ever changing as the regiments succeeded each other, +now brown and red, now green and red, now gray and yellow, as +Massachusetts infantry, New York line, and Morgan's Rifles poured +steadily by in unbroken columns.</p> +<p>Wrapped in my chamber-robe, head supported on my hand, I sat by +the window, dully content, striving to think, to realize all that +had befallen me. The glitter of the passing rifles, the constantly +changing hues and colors, the movement, the noise, set my head +swimming. Yet I must prepare to leave within the hour, for the +stable bells were ringing for eight o'clock.</p> +<p>Cato scratched at the door and entered, bringing me hot water, +and hovering around me with napkin, salve, and basin, till my +battered body had been bathed, my face shaved, and my bruised head +washed where the Seneca castete had glanced, tearing the skin. +Clothed in fresh linen and a new uniform, sent by Schuyler, I bade +him call Sir Lupus; who came presently, his mouth full of toast, a +mug of cooled ale in one hand, clay pipe in the other.</p> +<p>He laid his pipe on the mantel, set his mug on a chair, and +embraced me, shaking his head in solemn silence; and we sat for a +space, considering one another, while Cato filled my bowl with +chocolate and removed the cover from my smoking porridge-dish.</p> +<p>"They beat all," said Sir Lupus, at length; "don't they, +George?"</p> +<p>"Do you mean our troops, sir?" I asked.</p> +<p>"No, sir, I don't. I mean our women."</p> +<p>He struck his fat leg with his palm, drew a long breath, and +regarded me, arms akimbo.</p> +<p>"Mad, sir; all stark, raving mad! Look at those two chits of +girls! The Legion had gone tearing off after you to Schell's with +an Oneida scout; Sir George pops in with his tale of your horrid +plight, then pelts off to find his troopers and do what he could to +save you. Gad, George! it looked bad for you. I--I was half out o' +my senses, thinking of you; and what with the children a-squalling +and the household rushing up stairs and down, and the militia +marching to the grist-mill bridge, I did nothing. What the devil +was I to do? Eh?"</p> +<p>"You did quite right, sir," I said, gravely.</p> +<p>He lay back, staring at me, shoving his fat hands into his +breeches pockets.</p> +<p>"If I'd known what that baggage o' mine was bent on, I'd ha' +locked her in the cellar!... George, you won't hold that against +me, will you? She's my own daughter. But the hussy was gone with +Magdalen Brant before I dreamed of it--gone on the maddest +moonlight quest that mortal ever dared conceive!--one in rags cut +from a red blanket, t'other in that rotten old armor that your aunt +thought fit to ship from England when her father stripped the house +to cross an ocean and build in the forests of a new world. George, +she's all Ormond, that girl o' mine. A Varick would never have +thought to cut such a caper, I tell you. It isn't in our line; it +isn't in Dutch blood to imagine such things, or do 'em either!"</p> +<p>He seized pipe and mug, swearing under his breath.</p> +<p>"It was the bravest thing I ever knew," I said, huskily.</p> +<p>He dipped his nose into his mug, pulled at his long pipe, and +eyed me askance.</p> +<p>"What the devil's this between you and Dorothy?" he growled.</p> +<p>"Nothing, I trust now, sir," I answered, in a low voice.</p> +<p>"Oh! 'nothing, you trust now, sir!'" he mimicked, striving to +turn a sour face. "Dammy, d' ye know that I meant her for Sir +George Covert?" His broad face softened; he attempted to scowl, and +failed utterly. "Thank God, the land's clear of these bandits of +St. Leger, anyhow!" he snorted. "I'll work my mills and I'll scrape +enough to pay my debts. I suppose I'll have you on my hands when +you've finished with Burgoyne."</p> +<p>"No," I said, smiling, "the blow that Arnold struck at Stanwix +will be felt from Maine to the Florida Keys. The blow to be +delivered twenty miles north of us will settle any questions of +land confiscation. No, Sir Lupus, I shall not be on your hands, but +... you may be on mine if you turn Tory!"</p> +<p>"You impudent rogue!" he cried, struggling to his feet; then, +still clutching pipe and pewter, he embraced me, and choked and +chuckled, laying his fat head on my shoulder. "Be a son to me, +George," he whimpered, sentimentally; "if you won't, you're a +damned ungrateful pup!"</p> +<p>And he took himself off, sniffing, and sucking at his long clay, +which had gone out.</p> +<p>I turned to the window, drawing in deep breaths of sweet, pure +morning air. Troops were still passing in solid column, grim, dirty +soldiers in heavy cowhide knapsacks, leather gaiters, and blue +great-coats buttoned back at the skirts; and I heard the militia at +the quarters calling across the stable-yard that these grimy +battalions were some of Washington's veterans, hurried north from +West Point by his Excellency to stiffen the backbone of Lincoln's +militia, who prowled, growling and snarling, around Burgoyne's +right flank.</p> +<p>They were a gaunt, hard-eyed, firm-jawed lot, marching with a +peculiar cadence and swing which set all their muskets and buckles +glittering at one moment, as though a thousand tiny mirrors had +been turned to the light, then turned away. And, pat! pat! patter! +patter! pat! went their single company drums, and their drummers +seemed to beat mechanically, without waste of energy, yet with a +dry, rattling precision that I had never heard save in the old days +when the British troops at New Smyrna or St. Augustine marched +out.</p> +<p>"Good--mornin', sorr," came a hearty and somewhat loud voice +from below; and I saw Murphy, Elerson, and Mount, arm in arm, +swaggering past with that saunter that none but a born forest +runner may hope to imitate. They were not sober.</p> +<p>I spoke to them kindly, however, asking them if their wants were +fully supplied; and they acknowledged with enthusiasm that they +could desire nothing better than Sir Lupus's buttery ale.</p> +<p>"Wisha, then, sorr," said Murphy, jerking his thumb towards the +sombre column passing, "thim laads is the laads f'r to twisht th' +Dootch pigtails on thim Hissians at Half-moon. They do be pigtails +on th' Dootch a fut long in the eel-skin. Faith, I saw McCraw's +scalp--'twas wan o' Harrod's men tuk it, not I, sorr!--an' 'twas +red an' ratty, wid nary a lock to lift it, more shame to +McCraw!"</p> +<p>Mount stood, balancing now on his heels, now on his toes, +inhaling and expelling his breath like a man who has had more than +a morning draught of cider.</p> +<p>He laid his head on one side, like an enormous bird, and +regarded me with a simper, as though lost in admiration.</p> +<p>"Three cheers for the Colonel," he observed, thickly, and took +off his cap.</p> +<p>"'Ray!" echoed Elerson, regarding the unsteadiness of Mount's +legs with an expression of wonder and pity.</p> +<p>I bade Mount saddle my mare and prepare to accompany me to +headquarters. He saluted amiably; presently they started across the +yard for their quarters, distributing morsels of wisdom and advice +among the militiamen, who stared at them with awe and pointed at +their beaded shot--pouches, which were, alas! adorned with fringes +of coarse hair, dyed scarlet.</p> +<p>But Morgan must worry over that. I had other matters to stir me +and set my pulses beating heavily as I walked to the door, opened +it, and looked out into the hallway.</p> +<p>Children's voices came from the library below; I rested my hand +on the banisters, aiding my stiffened limbs in the descent, and +limped down the stairs.</p> +<p>Cecile spied me first. She was sitting on the porch with a very, +very young ensign of Half-moon militia, watching the passing +troops; and she sprang to her feet and threw her arms about my +neck, kissing me again and again, a proceeding viewed with concern +by the very young ensign of Half-moon militia.</p> +<p>"You darling!" she whispered. "Dorothy's in the library with +father and the children. Lean on me, you poor boy! How you have +suffered! And to think that you loved her all the time! Ah!" she +whispered, sentimentally, pressing my arm, "how rare is constancy! +How adorable it must be to be adored!"</p> +<p>There was a rush of children as we entered, and Cecile cried, +"You little beasts, have you no manners?" But they were clinging to +me, limb and body, and I stood there, caressing them, eyes fixed on +my cousin Dorothy, who had risen from her chair.</p> +<p>She was very pale and quiet, and the hand she left in mine +seemed lifeless as I bent to kiss it. But, upon the bridal finger, +I saw the ghost-ring, a thin, rosy band, and I thrilled from head +to foot with happiness unspeakable.</p> +<p>"Get him a chair, Harry!" said Sir Lupus. "Sit down, George; and +what shall it be, my boy, cold mulled or spiced to cheer you on +your journey? Or, as the Glencoe brawlers have it, 'Wha's f'r +poonch?'"</p> +<p>I sank into my chair, saying I desired nothing; and my eyes +never left Dorothy, who sat with golden head bent, folding and +refolding the ruffled corner of her apron, raising her lovely eyes +at moments to look across at me.</p> +<p>The morning had turned raw and chilly; a log-fire crackled on +the hearth, where Benny had set a row of early harvest apples to +sizzle and steam and perfume the air, the while Dorothy heard +Harry, Sammy, and Benny read their morning lessons, so that they +might hurry away to watch the passing army of their pet hero, +Gates.</p> +<p>"Come," cried the patroon, "read your lessons and get out, you +young dunces! Now, Sammy!"</p> +<p>Dorothy looked at me and took up her book.</p> +<p>"If Amos gives Joseph sixteen apples, and Joseph gives Amanda +two times one half of one half of the apples, how many will Amanda +have?" demanded Samuel, with labored breath. "And the true answer +to that is six."</p> +<p>Dorothy nodded and stole a glance at me.</p> +<p>"That doesn't sound quite right to me," said Sir Lupus, +wrinkling his brows and counting on his fingers. "Is that the +answer, Dorothy?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," she murmured, eyes fixed on me.</p> +<p>Sir Lupus glared at Dorothy, then at me. Then he stuffed his +pipe full of tobacco and sat in grim silence while Benny +repeated:</p> +<p>"Theven timeth theven ith theventy-theven; theven timeth eight +ith thixty-thix." While Dorothy nodded absently and plaited the +edges of her lace apron, and looked at me under lowered lashes. And +Benny lisped on: "Theven timeth nine ith theventy-thix; +theven--"</p> +<p>"Stop that nonsense!" burst out Sir Lupus. "Take 'em away, +Cecile! Take 'em out o' my sight!"</p> +<p>The children, only too delighted to escape, rushed forth with +whoops and hoots, demanding to be shown their hero, General Gates. +Sir Lupus looked after them sardonically.</p> +<p>"We're a race o' glory--mongers these days," he said. "Gad, I +never thought to see offspring o' mine chasing the drums! Look at +'em now! Ruyven hunting about Tryon County for a Hessian to knock +him in the head; Cecile sitting in rapture with every cornet or +ensign who'll notice her; the children yelling for Lafayette and +Washington; Dorothy, here, playing at Donna Quixota, and you +starting for Stillwater to teach that fool, Gates, how to catch +Burgoyne. Set an ass to catch an ass--eh, George?--"</p> +<p>He stopped, his small eyes twinkling with a softer light.</p> +<p>"I suppose you want me to go," he said.</p> +<p>We did not reply.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm going," he added, fretfully; "I'm no company for a pair +o' heroes, a colonel, and--"</p> +<p>"Touching the colonelcy," I said, "I want to make it plain that +I shall refuse the promotion. I did nothing; the confederacy was +split by Magdalen Brant, not by me; I did nothing at Oriskany; I +cannot understand how General Schuyler should think me deserving of +such promotion. And I am ashamed to take it when such men as Arnold +are passed over, and such men as Schuyler are slighted--"</p> +<p>"Folderol! What the devil's this?" bawled Sir Lupus. "Do you +think you know more than your superior officers--hey? You're a +colonel, George. Let well enough alone, for if you make a donkey of +yourself, they'll make you a major-general!"</p> +<p>With a spasmodic effort he got on his feet, seized glass and +pipe, and waddled out of the room, slamming the door behind +him.</p> +<p>In the ringing silence a charred log broke and fell in a shower +of sparks, tincturing the air with the perfume of sweet birch +smoke.</p> +<a name="358.jpg"></a> +<p class="ctr"><a href="images/358.jpg"><img src="images/358.jpg" +width="45%" alt=""></a><br> +<b>"A STRANGE SHYNESS SEEMED TO HOLD US APART".</b></p> +<p>I rose from my chair. Dorothy rose, too, trembling. A strange +shyness seemed to hold us apart. She stood there, the forced smile +stamped on her lips, watching me with the fascination of fear; and +I steadied myself on the arm of my chair, looking deep into her +eyes, seeking to recognize in her the child I had known.</p> +<p>The child had gone, and in her place stood this lovely, silent +stranger, with all the mystery of woman-hood in her eyes--that +sweet light, exquisitely prophetic, divinely sad.</p> +<p>"Dorothy," I said, under my breath. "All that is brave and +adorable in you, I love and worship. You have risen so far above +me--and I am so weak and--and broken, and unworthy--"</p> +<p>"I love you," she faltered, her lips scarcely moving. Then the +color surged over brow and throat; she laid her hands on her hot +cheeks; I took her in my arms, holding her imprisoned. At my touch +the color faded from her face, leaving it white as a flower.</p> +<p>"I fear you--maid spiritual, maid militant--Maid-at-Arms!" I +stammered.</p> +<p>"And I fear you," she murmured, looking at me. "What lover does +the whole world hold like you? What hero can compare with you? And +who am I that I should take you away from the whole world? +Sweetheart, I am afraid."</p> +<p>"Then fear no more," I whispered, and bent my head. She raised +her pale face; her arms crept up around my neck and tightened, +clinging closer as her closing lips met mine.</p> +<p>There came a tapping at the door, a shuffle of felt-shod +feet--</p> +<p>"Mars' Gawge, suh, yo' hoss done saddle', suh."</p> +<br> +<br> +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12279 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/12279-h/images/001.png b/12279-h/images/001.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf65b29 --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/001.png diff --git a/12279-h/images/351.jpg b/12279-h/images/351.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0063164 --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/351.jpg diff --git a/12279-h/images/352.jpg b/12279-h/images/352.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e850c09 --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/352.jpg diff --git a/12279-h/images/353.jpg b/12279-h/images/353.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8199622 --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/353.jpg diff --git a/12279-h/images/354.jpg b/12279-h/images/354.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2a45ae --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/354.jpg diff --git a/12279-h/images/355.jpg b/12279-h/images/355.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7223ca --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/355.jpg diff --git a/12279-h/images/356.jpg b/12279-h/images/356.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7976f26 --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/356.jpg diff --git a/12279-h/images/357.jpg b/12279-h/images/357.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b0dc04 --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/357.jpg diff --git a/12279-h/images/358.jpg b/12279-h/images/358.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca4a84b --- /dev/null +++ b/12279-h/images/358.jpg |
