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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Then Marched the Brave, by Harriet T. Comstock
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Then Marched the Brave
+
+Author: Harriet T. Comstock
+
+Illustrator: Anna S. Hicks
+
+Release Date: June 30, 2005 [EBook #16156]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: _Frontispiece--"'I CAN SEE NO ONE BUT THE GENERAL,'
+JANIE SAID."
+
+_See page 133._]
+
+
+
+
+Then Marched the Brave
+
+By
+
+Harriet T. Comstock
+
+Author of "When the British Came," "Molly, the Drummer Boy," etc.
+
+_Illustrations by Anna S. Hicks_
+
+PHILADELPHIA
+HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+MOLLY, THE DRUMMER BOY
+
+WHEN THE BRITISH CAME
+
+Fifty cents each
+
+Copyright, 1904, by Henry Altemus
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER I
+ANDY McNEAL
+
+CHAPTER II
+A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT
+
+CHAPTER III
+THE CROWNING OF ANDY McNEAL
+
+CHAPTER IV
+THROUGH THE CAVE
+
+CHAPTER V
+A SUSPICION
+
+CHAPTER VI
+THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE
+
+CHAPTER VII
+ANDY HEARS A STRANGE TALK
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+AT HEADQUARTERS
+
+CHAPTER IX
+PEACE
+
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+"'I can see no one but the General,' Janie said"
+"Andy was at the oars now"
+"'Good day, my pretty lass!'"
+"Burr ventured a question"
+"It took all of Andy's courage to don the female attire"
+
+
+
+
+
+THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+ANDY McNEAL
+
+
+It was in the time when the king's men had things pretty much their own
+way, and mystery and plot held full sway, that there lived, in a little
+house near McGown Pass on the upper end of Manhattan Island, a widow and
+her lame son. She was a tall, gaunt woman of Scotch ancestry, but loyal
+to the land that had given her a second home. She was not a woman of
+many opinions, but the few that she held were rigid, and not to be
+trifled with. With all her might she hated the king, and with equal
+intensity loved the cause of freedom. In the depths of her nature there
+was a great feeling of shame and disappointment that her only son was a
+hopeless cripple, and so could not be offered as a living sacrifice to
+the new cause.
+
+Janie McNeal held it against the good God that she, His faithful
+servant, must be denied the glorious opportunity of giving her best and
+all, as other mothers were doing, that the land of the free might be
+wrested from cruel tyranny.
+
+To be sure, Andy was but sixteen. That mattered little to Janie; young
+as he was, she could have held him in readiness, as did Hannah of old,
+until the time claimed him--but his lameness made it impossible. Among
+all the deeds of courage, he must stand forever apart!
+
+Poor Janie could not conceive of a bravery beyond physical strength. In
+her disappointment she looked upon pale Andy, and she saw--she hated to
+acknowledge it--but she saw only cowardice written upon every line of
+the shrinking features! The patient blue eyes avoided her pitying
+glance. The sensitive mouth twitched as the boy listened to her
+oft-repeated laments. Janie had never seen those eyes grow steely and
+keen; she had never seen the lips draw into firm lines, or the slim form
+stiffen as the boy listened to the doings of the king's soldiers. When
+the neighbors came with thrilling tales of daring done by some loved
+one, Janie made some excuse for sending the boy upon an errand or to
+bed; the contrast was too bitter.
+
+And Andy, sensitive and keen from suffering, saw through it all and
+shrank, not from fear or cowardice, but unselfish love, away from the
+stir and excitement and his mother's sigh of humiliation. He lived his
+life much alone; misunderstood, but silently brave. His chance would
+come. Andy never once doubted that, and the chance would find him ready.
+
+And so he waited while the summer of 1776 waxed hotter and hotter, and
+the king's men, drunken with success after the battle of Long Island,
+pressed their advantage and impudence further, as they waited to see
+what the "old fox," meaning Washington, meant to do next. What his
+intentions were, no one, not even his own men, seemed to know; he kept
+them and himself well out of sight, and the anxious people watched and
+wondered and grew restless under the strain.
+
+Now upon a certain July night Janie McNeal and Andy were sitting at
+their humble meal. The door of the cottage stood open, and the song of
+evening birds made tender the quiet scene. Suddenly hurried, yet
+stealthy, steps startled them. Was it friend or foe?
+
+"'Tis from a secret path, mother," whispered Andy, catching his crutch.
+He knew the way the king's men came and went, and he knew the paths
+hidden to all but those who dwelt among them. His trained ear was never
+deceived.
+
+"'Tis a neighbor," he murmured; "he comes down the stream bed."
+
+Sure enough, a moment later Parson White's wife ran in. Her face was
+haggard, and her hands outstretched imploringly. With keen appreciation
+of what might be coming, Janie McNeal put her in a chair, and stood
+guard over her like a gaunt sentinel.
+
+"To bed, Andy, child," she commanded; "'tis late and you are pale. To
+bed!"
+
+Andy took the crutch, and, without a word, limped to the tiny room in
+the loft above. Boy-like, he was consumed with curiosity. He knew that
+the speakers, unless they whispered, could be overheard, so he lay down
+upon his hard bed and listened. And poor Margaret White did not whisper.
+Once alone with her friend, she poured out her agony and horror.
+
+"My Sam," she moaned, "he is dead!"
+
+Janie and the listener above started. For three years Sam White, the
+erring son of the good parson, had been a wanderer from his father's
+home. How, then, had he died, and where? The news was startling, indeed.
+
+"Margaret, tell me all!" The firm voice calmed the grief-stricken
+mother.
+
+"He was coming home to get our blessing. He heard his country's call,
+when his ears were deaf to all others, and it aroused his better nature.
+He would not join the ranks until he had our blessing and forgiveness.
+Poor lad! he was coming down the pass last night, not knowing that it
+was sentineled by the enemy. He did not answer to the command to halt,
+and they shot him! Shot him like a dog, giving him no time for
+explanation or prayer. Oh! my boy! my boy!"
+
+Never while he lived would Andy forget that tone of bitter agony.
+
+"He's dead! My boy for whom I have watched and waited. Dead! ere he
+could offer his brave young life on his country's altar. Oh! woe is me,
+woe is me!"
+
+For a moment there was silence, then Janie's voice rang out so that Andy
+could hear every word.
+
+"As God hears me, Margaret, I would gladly give my ain useless lad, if
+by so doing, yours might be reclaimed from death. Your sorrow is one for
+which there is no comfort. To have a son to give; to have him snatched
+away before the country claimed him! Aye, woman, your load is, indeed, a
+heavy one. To think of Andy alive, and your strong man-child lying dead!
+The ways of God are beyond finding out. It grieves me sore, Margaret,
+that it does. It seems a useless sacrifice, God forgive me for saying
+it!"
+
+The women were sobbing together. In the room above, Andy hid his head
+under the pillow to shut out the sound. Never, in all his lonely life,
+had he suffered so keenly. Love, pride, hope, went down before the hard
+words. In that time of great deeds, when the brave were marching on to
+victory or death, he, poor useless cripple, was a disgrace to the mother
+whom he loved.
+
+Where could he turn for comfort? He limped to the window, to cool his
+fevered face. He leaned on the sill and looked up at the stars. They
+seemed unfriendly now, and yet he and they had kept many a vigil, and
+they had always seemed like comrades in the past. Poor Andy could not
+pray; he needed the touch of human sympathy.
+
+All at once he started. There was one, just one who would understand.
+But how could he reach her? The women in the room below barred his exit
+that way. A heavy vine clambered over the house, and its sturdy branches
+swayed under Andy's window. No one would miss him, and to climb down the
+vine was an easy task even for a lame boy.
+
+Cautiously he began the descent, and in a few minutes was on the ground.
+He had managed to carry his crutch under his arm, and now, panting, but
+triumphant, he went quickly on. A new courage was rising within him--a
+courage that often comes with despair and indifference to consequences.
+No matter what happened, he would seek his only friend.
+
+He took to the stream bed. It was quite dry, and the bushes grew close.
+No prowling Britisher would be likely to challenge him there. Ah! if
+poor Sam White had been as wise. Andy's face grew paler as he
+remembered. For a half-mile he pattered on, then the moon, rising clear
+and silvery, showed a little house near by the stream bed and almost
+hidden by vines.
+
+Everything about the house was dark and still. Andy paused and wondered
+if he had a right to disturb even his one true friend. Noiselessly, he
+drew near, and went around to the back of the house. Something startled
+him.
+
+"Mother!" It was a young, sweet voice, and it came from the shadow of
+the little porch.
+
+"'Tis I, Ruth!" faltered Andy.
+
+"You, Andy! And why! Have you heard about our Sam!" The girl came out
+into the moonshine. She was tall and strong, and her face was very
+pretty.
+
+"Yes; I've heard, Ruth;" then, coming close, Andy poured out his misery
+to the girl who had been his lifelong friend and comrade.
+
+She listened silently, once raising her finger and pointing toward the
+house as if to warn him against arousing the others. When he had
+finished there was silence. It was not Ruth's way to plunge into reply.
+
+"Come," she whispered presently, "I am going to tell the bees. Hans
+Brickman told me to-night that 'tis no fancy, but a true thing, that the
+bees will leave a hive if death come unless they are told by a member of
+the family. The bee-folk are overwise, I know, and I mean to take no
+chances of their leaving. With the British at hand, honey is not to be
+despised. Come."
+
+Andy followed, wondering, but biding Ruth's time. She was a strange girl
+in all her ways.
+
+Without speaking, the two went through the little garden and paused
+before the row of neat hives. Then Ruth bent before the first.
+
+"Sam's dead!" she whispered, "but do not fear. We need you, so do not
+leave the hive." From hive to hive she went, quite seriously repeating
+the sentence in soft murmurings. Andy stood and looked, the moonlight
+showing him pale and intent. At last the deed was done, and Ruth came
+back to him and laid her firm, brown hand upon his shoulder. She was a
+trifle taller than he, so she bent to speak.
+
+"Not even your mother knows you as I do, Andy," she said. "She thinks a
+lame leg can cripple a brave soul; but it cannot! Why, even being a girl
+could not keep me back if I saw my chance, and I tell you, Andy, your
+lameness may serve you well. I have been thinking of that. I do not
+believe God ever wastes anything. He can use lame boys and--even girls.
+Sam was not wasted. The call made him brave and good. He was coming home
+a new creature just because he had heard. When I saw him lying dead,
+shot by those lurking cowards, something grew in me here,"--she touched
+her breast. "I have not shed one tear, but I loved him as well as the
+others. Somehow I knew that since he had been called, it was because he
+had a work to do, and since he is gone I mean to be ready to do his
+work. Andy, I am as strong as a boy, but--" here her eyes sought his--"I
+am a girl for all that, but you and I together, Andy, can do Sam's
+work!" The young voice shook with excitement.
+
+"I, Ruth? Ah! do not shame me." Andy's eyes fell before the shining
+face.
+
+"Shame you, Andy? I shame you--I who have loved you next best to Sam!
+Come. Father has gone to bed, there will be time before mother returns.
+I want you to see Sam."
+
+With bated breath the two entered the living-room of the cottage. The
+place had been made sacred to the young hero who was so early called to
+his rest. Flowers everywhere, and among them Sam lay smiling placidly at
+his easily won laurels.
+
+For the first time Andy gazed upon the face of death. The gentle dignity
+and peace of the once wild boy awed and thrilled the onlooker. He was
+dressed in his Continental uniform that was unsoiled by battle's breath,
+albeit, an ugly hole in the breast showed where the gallant blood had
+flowed forth.
+
+"It's--it's wonderful!" gasped Andy.
+
+"But we're not going to let him be wasted, are we Andy?" There was a
+cruel break in the girl's voice. "We'll do his work, won't we? We'll
+show the Britishers how we can repay, won't we, Andy?"
+
+"Yes," breathed the boy, unable to turn his eyes from the noble, boyish
+face, that was lighted by the gleam of the one lamp; "we'll show them!"
+
+"See, Andy" (Ruth had gone to a corner cup-board and brought forth a
+three-cornered cap), "this is Sam's; I found it in the bushes. Mother
+says I may have it." She placed it upon Andy's head. "It just fits!" she
+exclaimed. "If the time comes, Andy, you shall wear the cap. It will be
+proof that I trust you. You will help if you can, won't you? Promise"
+Andy."
+
+"I promise, as God hears me, Ruth."
+
+In the stillness the vow sounded awesome. The two clasped hands. All
+the sting was gone. A great resolve to be ready to dare and die made
+Andy strong and happy.
+
+"Good-by, Ruth."
+
+"Good-by, Andy, lad."
+
+Out into the still night the boy passed. On the way back he saw Mrs.
+White, but he hid beneath a bush until she had gone by. He reached home,
+found the door barred, and so painfully reached his room by the aid of
+the friendly vine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+A STRANGER IN THE NIGHT
+
+
+That was to be a night of experiences--the beginning, the real beginning
+of Andy's life; all the rest had been preparation. After reaching his
+room, he flung himself wearily upon the bed. How long he slept he could
+not know, but he was suddenly aroused by a sharp knock on the outer door
+below stairs. He sat up and listened. All was still except the trickling
+of a near-by waterfall, which had outlived the dry weather.
+
+For a moment Andy thought the knock was but part of a troubled dream; he
+waited a moment, then, to make sure, limped over to the stairway and
+peered down into the room below. A candle stood on the pine table, and,
+at a chair near-by, knelt Janie McNeal, bowed in prayer. She had heard
+the knock, but not until the lonely prayer was finished would she rise.
+That was Janie's way.
+
+A second knock, louder than the first, sounded, and with it the woman's
+solemn "Amen."
+
+"Be not so hasty, stranger," she muttered, as she withdrew the bar;
+"learn to wait for your betters."
+
+The door swung back, and into the dim light of the bare room stepped a
+tall man in Continental dress. His hat was in his hand, and he bowed
+before Janie as if she were a queen. Andy drew back. No such stranger
+had ever visited them before, and the boy gazed fascinated.
+
+"Pardon me, my good woman," the rich voice said; "much as I dislike
+disturbing you, I fear I must crave a few hours' rest and lodging, and
+the service of one to row me across the river ere break of day. I have
+been told that you have a son."
+
+Andy quivered.
+
+"A lodging, sir, is yours and welcome," Janie replied, motioning the
+stranger toward a chair and closing the door after him. "I ever keep a
+bed in readiness these troubled times. We are loyal to the cause, and I
+would serve where I may. I have a son, sir, as you have heard, but,
+alas! not one who can be of service. He is a cripple. However, rest; you
+look sadly in need of it. I will hasten to a neighbor's a mile away, and
+seek the service you desire."
+
+"I regret to cause such trouble, but the need is urgent. I sympathize
+with you in your son's affliction. It must be a sore grief to the lad to
+sit apart these stirring times when young blood runs hot, and the
+country calls so loudly."
+
+Soon Janie was setting food before the stranger--good brown bread and
+creamy milk. Andy saw the look of suffering on her face as she bustled
+about, and he understood. He crept back to bed heavy-hearted. Ruth was
+wrong; there was nothing for him to do.
+
+The hot hours dragged on. Toward morning Andy grew restless, and quietly
+arose and dressed. The feeling of bravery awakened within him, and a dim
+thought grew and assumed shape in his brain. He could row strong and
+well. Few knew of his accomplishment, for his life was lonely and the
+exercise and practice had been one of his few diversions.
+
+He knew a secret path among the rocks, which led to the river, and at
+the end of the path was moored his tiny boat, the rough work of his
+patient hands. Only Ruth knew of his treasure; often he and she had
+glided away from the hamlet to think their thoughts, or dream their
+young dreams.
+
+Now, if he could arouse the stranger before his mother had summoned
+another to do the service, he might share the joy of helping, in a small
+way, the great cause.
+
+"The need is urgent," smiled the boy; "in that case a lame fellow might
+not be despised."
+
+He recalled the stranger's face, and his courage grew.
+
+"Chances are so few!" he muttered; "I must take this one."
+
+At the first rustling of the birds in the trees, Andy crept down-stairs.
+His mother's room and the guest-room both opened from the living-room,
+but Janie's door was closed, while the stranger's was ajar. Through it
+came the sound of low-spoken words.
+
+"Accept the thanks of thy servant for all bountiful mercies of the past.
+Guide his future steps. Bless our enemies, and make them just. Amen."
+
+The boy bowed his head, instinctively. Surely he had nothing to fear
+from such a man. He went nearer and tapped lightly on the door. Light as
+was the touch, the stranger started.
+
+"Come!" There was a welcome in the word. Andy stepped cautiously inside.
+
+"Good-morning, sir."
+
+"The same to you, my lad." The keen eyes softened as they fell upon the
+rude crutch. "How can I serve you!"
+
+"Sir, I have come to offer my services to you. I heard you tell my
+mother that you needed some one to row you across the river. I am a good
+rower."
+
+The man looked puzzled. "You are the widow's son? Is not the task too
+great?"
+
+"My lameness does not hinder much. I use the crutch mainly to hasten my
+steps; I can walk without it. I am very strong in other ways. I think I
+am just beginning to find out how strong I am, myself. None know the
+woods better than I. I can take you by a short cut to the river, and I
+have my own boat moored and ready. It will be a small matter to reach
+the opposite shore by sunrise if we start at once." Andy was panting
+with excitement. "Pray, sir, let me do this; there are so few chances
+for such as I."
+
+The listener smiled kindly.
+
+"You are just the guide I need," he said, and Andy knew there was no
+flattery in the words. "I must leave it for you to thank your good
+mother for her hospitality. I have been ready for an hour. Lead on, my
+boy!"
+
+Silently they stole from the house. The birds twittered as they passed,
+for the tall man touched the lower boughs and disturbed the nestlings.
+
+"Bend low," whispered Andy, "the way leads through small spaces."
+
+On they went, sometimes creeping under the hanging rocks, always
+clinging to the shelter of trees and bushes. They both knew the danger
+that might lie near in the form of a British sentinel.
+
+"The path seems untrodden by foot of man," murmured the stranger,
+pausing to draw in a long breath. "You are a wonderful guide."
+
+"I think no one else knows the way," Andy whispered, proudly; "an Indian
+showed it to me when I was a child. He was my good friend, he taught me
+also to row, and shoot with both arrow and gun. He said I should know
+Indian tricks because of my lameness. They might help where strength
+failed. He showed me how to creep noiselessly and find paths. I have
+trails all over the woods. There is one that leads right among the
+Britishers; and they never know. I do this for sport."
+
+The stranger looked sharply at the gliding form ahead.
+
+"Paths such as this all over the woods?" he repeated. "And have you kept
+this--this sport secret?"
+
+"That I have!" laughed Andy. "I tell you now because you are upon your
+country's service. I trust you, and I thought perhaps it might help
+sometime." The two moved forward for a moment in silence, then Andy
+laughed in a half-confused way.
+
+"A boy gets lonely at times," he said; "he must do something to while
+away the--the years. I have practiced and made believe until I am a
+pretty good Indian. I make believe that I am guiding the great
+Washington. They do say he ever remembers a favor. I should love to
+serve him. Had I been like other boys--" the voice broke--"I would have
+been as near him as possible by this time!"
+
+The hand of the stranger was upon the youth's shoulder. Andy turned in
+alarm.
+
+"You have a secret which may save your country much!" breathed the deep
+voice; "guard it with your life. But if one comes from Washington
+seeking your aid, do whatever he asks, fearlessly."
+
+"How would I know such an one?" gasped Andy.
+
+"That will I tell you later." Again the forward tramp.
+
+"And you have passed, unnoticed, the British line! 'Tis a joke almost
+beyond belief!" chuckled the stranger. "I should like to see my Lord
+Howe's face were he to hear this."
+
+"Oh! be silent, sir!" cautioned the guide, "we come to an open space."
+
+Once again beneath the heavy boughs, the boy said:
+
+"I passed the line but yesterday. And I heard that which has troubled
+me, sorely, yet I could do nothing. But--" here Andy paused and turned
+sharply--"bend down. Should you know Washington were you to see him?"
+
+"Aye, lad." The two heads were pressed close.
+
+"Would you bear a message, and try to find him?"
+
+"Aye."
+
+"They are planning an attack. I could not hear when or where, for the
+men moved past. As they came back, and passed where I was hidden, I
+heard them say that they who are near Washington had best be on watch,
+poison in the food made no such noise as a gun--but it would serve!"
+
+"You heard that?" almost moaned the listener. "My God! could they plan
+such a cowardly thing?"
+
+"Aye, sir. I am thinking they can. I would warn the General if I could,
+but you may be luckier. The men said Lord Howe desired the death of
+every rebel."
+
+"May heaven forgive him!" The words fell sadly from the strong lips.
+
+"And now," again Andy took the lead, "do not speak as we pass here. It
+is the spot where they shot our pastor's boy, only two days ago. I fear
+the place. A few rods beyond, we will again strike the thicket, and be
+under cover until we reach the river."
+
+The solemn quiet that precedes a hot summer dawn surrounded the man and
+boy. The red band broadened in the east. The birds, fearing neither
+friend nor foe, began to challenge the stillness with their glad notes,
+and so guide and follower passed the gruesome place where young Sam
+White gave up his untried life a few short days ago. The thicket gained,
+the two paused for breath.
+
+"We must not talk in the boat, sir." They had reached the moored boat
+now. "Pray tell me how I am to know our General's messenger."
+
+"By this." The stranger detached a charm from a hidden chain and held it
+in his palm so that the clearer light fell upon it. "I command you to
+learn its peculiarities well. There must be no blunder."
+
+It was very quaint. Andy's keen eye took in every detail.
+
+"I shall know it," he sighed. And the stranger smiled and replaced it.
+"And you, sir?" he faltered, for the hour of parting came with a strange
+sadness; "may I not know your name? You have made me so proud and happy
+because you accepted my poor service."
+
+"George Washington, and your true friend, Andy McNeal! We are both
+serving the same great cause. God keep us both!"
+
+The General clasped the boy's trembling hand, and Andy looked through
+dim eyes into the face of his hero. The hero who for months past had
+been the imaginative comrade of lonely hours and dreamy play.
+
+[Illustration: "ANDY WAS AT THE OARS NOW."]
+
+"We shall meet again--comrade!" Washington was smiling and the mist
+passed. "Never fear death, lad, if you are doing your duty; it comes but
+once. Row swiftly. Day is breaking. A messenger with a horse awaits me
+on the further shore. Head for Point of Cedars."
+
+"Good-by, sir; I shall never fear anything again--after this, I think.
+Good-by!" Andy was at the oars now. He handled them like the master that
+he was. The old Indian had taught well, and the apt pupil had been
+making ready against this day and chance.
+
+While Andy kept Point of Cedars in view, he saw, also, the noble figure
+in the stern. The keen eyes kept smiling in kindly fashion, while the
+firm lips kept their accustomed silence. To Andy, the future was as rosy
+as the dawn, and he wondered that he had ever been depressed and afraid.
+
+"Death comes but once!" kept ringing in his thoughts; "it shall find me
+doing my duty. God and Washington forever!" The song of the times had
+found a resting-place in Andy McNeal's heart at last.
+
+Point of Cedars was safely reached. The general stepped upon the pebbly
+beach. Almost at once, from among the bushes, appeared a young man in
+ragged Continental uniform, leading a large, white horse.
+
+Without a word Washington mounted, nodded his thanks to the messenger,
+and a final farewell to Andy, then he, followed by his newer guide,
+faded from sight among the forest-trees. Standing bareheaded and alone
+upon the shore, Andy watched until the last sound of the hoof-beats died
+away, then, with a sigh of hope and memory mingled, he retraced his way.
+
+Janie McNeal greeted her son at the door-way. "Andy!" she cried, "our
+guest is gone!" She quite forgot that Andy, presumably, knew nothing of
+the guest. "He desired a lad to row him across the river. I was going to
+neighbor Jones's at early dawn to summon James. I should have gone last
+night, but I was sore tired. When I arose this morning, the stranger was
+gone. God forgive me!
+
+"The poor gentleman must have thought me a heedless body. I trust he
+will not think me in league with the Britishers; there is much of that
+sort of thing going on." Janie shook her head dolefully, not heeding
+Andy's smile.
+
+"How do we know," she went on, "but that the gentleman was on the great
+Washington's business? He was an overgrand body himself, and had
+excellent manners."
+
+"Mother!" the old hesitating tone crept back unconsciously into Andy's
+voice as he faced his mother; "mother, I rowed the stranger across the
+river, he is--safely landed. It--was--it--was--Washington himself!"
+
+"Andy!" Janie flung up her hands, and nearly fell from the step; "think,
+lad, of your words. You look and talk clean daft."
+
+"It--was--Washington!" The boy drew the words out with a delicious
+memory.
+
+"And--you--rowed--him--across! You--my--poor--lame lad! God have mercy
+upon me, and forgive me for my doubts!"
+
+"I can help a little, mother." Andy drew near the quivering figure. "I
+know, mother, and I do not wonder, but there is a place for every one
+in these days, and I'm going to be ready."
+
+Janie drew herself up, and put a trembling hand on the young shoulder.
+"Son!" she said, with a sudden but intense pride, "son, get ready, we go
+to Sam White's burying, you and I. God be praised! blind as I was, He
+has opened my eyes to see my son at last!" This was a great deal for
+Janie McNeal to say, but it did its work.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE CROWNING OF ANDY MCNEAL
+
+
+Sam White's burial was a very simple affair. In that time of need and
+anxiety men were off upon their country's business. Few could stay to
+mourn. The pastor himself read the simple service in a voice of pride,
+broken by a father's grief. He said that God would not let the sacrifice
+pass unheeded. Since Sam had heard the call, and then had been so
+suddenly taken away, another would be raised up to do his work; another
+who, through Sam, might be touched more than in any other way.
+
+Andy, standing in the little group about the open grave, at this raised
+his eyes, and he found Ruth's wide, tearless gaze fixed upon him. Andy
+smiled bravely back at her, for his heart was strong within him.
+
+After it was over and the few neighbors gone, Andy and Ruth remained to
+scatter flowers upon the young hero's bed, and cover up the bareness of
+the place.
+
+"Ruth," said Andy in a whisper, "I think my chance has come!"
+
+"Your chance, Andy?"
+
+"Aye. I have been thinking that Sam's being taken has aroused me, and
+given me courage, just as your father said, and--and last night the
+chance began!" Then he told her of much that had occurred. Ruth knelt
+among the flowers, her young face glowing.
+
+"Oh! I shall have some one to watch," she panted, "some one to help
+while he works. Oh! Andy, you do not know how I long to help, and be
+part of this great time. I go on long walks, and I hear and see so much.
+Down on the Bowery I heard a group say the other day that General
+Washington was going to burn the town and order the people to flee. One
+man said, did he order such a thing, he, for one, would go over to the
+British; and, Andy, there was a great shout from the other men! I felt
+my heart burn, for did our General order _me_ to go, then would I go
+whither and where he ordered; nor would I question, so great is my trust
+in him. And did he burn all, even my home, yet would I gladly obey, for
+I would _know_ he was doing wisely. So greatly do I honor him that I
+think, next to God, I trust our General!"
+
+The young face glowed and quivered, and Andy, with the spirit of
+hero-worship growing upon his recent experiences, panted in excitement
+as she spoke.
+
+"I, too, would follow, and never question," he said. "Never fear, Ruth;
+what the General expects of me, that will I do. Not even death do I
+fear--it comes but once!" The boyish voice rang clear.
+
+Suddenly, Ruth started toward the house. "Wait," she said, "I have
+something for you." She was back in a moment, bearing Sam's cap. "The
+time has come," she faltered, and there were tears in her eyes. "I--I
+want to crown you, Andy McNeal." She removed Andy's rough cap and
+replaced it with Sam's.
+
+"I'll keep the old one," she said, "and--and if you should fail to do
+bravely, you can have your own!" Then she dashed away the tears.
+"Forgive me, Andy McNeal!" she sobbed; "you will never fail. There is
+hero blood in your body, I know, and it may be that your lameness will
+aid you in accomplishing tasks that a lusty lad could never attempt."
+
+Andy raised his head proudly and the new crown set not badly on his
+boyish curls.
+
+"I must go," he breathed. "I will come every day unless--you know,
+Ruth?"
+
+The girl nodded, and so they parted silently, Ruth pressing the old hat
+to her aching heart, and taking up the woman's part in those troubling
+times; the part of the watching, waiting one.
+
+The days following became filled with one longing for Andy. The longing
+for Washington's messenger. Unless he came soon, the boy feared that he
+would be too late. During his own recent explorations beyond the lines,
+he heard much that warned him that the British were planning something
+of grave importance.
+
+Andy had told his mother and Ruth nothing of Washington's anticipated
+messenger. They knew merely that Andy had ferried the great General
+across the river--was that not enough? Had they known for what the boy
+was eagerly watching, they could not have done their own daily tasks.
+
+"He has an eager, watchful air," Janie confided to Ruth. "I am thinking
+the lad expects the General to pass this way again. Lightning and _such_
+happenings do not strike twice in the same spot."
+
+Ruth smiled gently. "I do not think Andy walks as lame as he did," she
+mused, watching the boy disappearing down a woody path.
+
+"He is always on the go," Janie broke in. "He practices walking without
+his crutch more than I think wise; but one can do little with men-folk!"
+Janie tossed her head proudly. Andy was a growing delight to her.
+
+"It may do him good," Ruth added; "he looks stronger and--and gladder."
+
+"He has gone beyond me," the mother sighed. "I--I begin to know, lass,
+the happy feeling a mother has when her heart aches with loneliness
+and--and pride! What ails you, lass?" For Ruth had started and given a
+short cry.
+
+"Why--why--" laughed the girl, "I am thinking my eyes are playing me
+false. I was watching Andy up the path, and I saw him as clear as I see
+you this minute--and then he was gone!"
+
+"Do not get flighty, Ruth." Janie came close, however, and peered up the
+path. "You and Andy will drive me daft. The path is a straight, clean
+one; had Andy been on it, he would still be in sight. I'm thinking he
+turned before he came to the brook bed. You did not notice, but your
+thoughts kept agoing on."
+
+"Perhaps," nodded Ruth, but Janie knew she was unconvinced.
+
+On her way home soon after, Ruth began to ponder. Once clear of Janie's
+observant eye, the girl turned back through the shrubbery, and ran to
+the spot where she had last seen Andy. All was as silent as a breathless
+summer day could make it. There was no side-path; no broken bushes.
+
+"He _was_ here," breathed the girl, "and he disappeared like a flash!"
+
+Then she knelt down and tried to trace footprints in the mossy earth.
+"Ah!" she smiled, for there was a crushed space at the edge of a brambly
+cluster of bushes. She quietly drew aside the branches, and a look of
+wonder grew in the bright eyes. So cunningly concealed, that even her
+native-bred keenness might never have espied it, lay a path, and among
+the bushes, Andy's crutch! Should she follow? In the old days Ruth would
+not have paused. But these were not play-days; Andy might be upon grave
+business. Reverently she drew back, and replaced the disorder she had
+caused among the parted leaves. Suddenly a step startled her. She turned
+sharply. Up the path came a British soldier, whistling a gay tune and
+eyeing her boldly.
+
+More than once had Ruth encountered these most ungallant gentlemen, and
+she was alert at resenting any familiarity, but a fear grew in her heart
+now. Andy's path must not be discovered! She must do her part.
+
+"Good-day, my pretty lass!" The man halted. Under ordinary
+circumstances Ruth would have taken to her fleet feet at this, but Andy
+might return too soon, and emerge while yet the enemy could discover
+him.
+
+"Berrying?" grinned the fellow; "August is early for berries, is it not?
+The man was suspicious, perhaps, and Ruth was on guard.
+
+"For some kinds," she answered, lightly.
+
+"What kind are you hunting?"
+
+"One that you British do not know," she replied; "it's a kind that grows
+only in America and thrives upon freedom."
+
+The soldier leered unpleasantly. "Come, I will help you hunt," he cried;
+"if we find a berry I cannot name, you may ask what reward you choose,
+and if I succeed then will I take a kiss from your red lips, eh, my
+girl?"
+
+Ruth darted an angry look upward. If they hunted, the cane would be
+discovered, and yet if she refused--well, she must act quickly.
+
+"Is it a bargain?"
+
+"Yes;" the word came bravely from a trembling courage.
+
+[Illustration: "'GOOD DAY, MY PRETTY LASS.'"]
+
+The two knelt and began the search. Ruth pressed the bushes so as to
+cover Andy's cane, but as her keen eyes fell upon the spot where it had
+been, to her surprise and joy, she saw that it was gone!
+
+A cry broke from her, for, as she realized that that danger was past,
+she saw, near at hand, a plant so rare even to her woodland eyes, that
+it was precious. Thanks to her learned father, she knew its name, and
+the spray of waxen berries was her salvation.
+
+"See!" she cried, "you have brought good luck. 'Tis a rare find. Now I
+pray you, sir, name the berry I hold in my hand."
+
+The man was searching the underbrush, and turned half angrily. "What
+have you?" he snarled. Ruth knew that Andy was near, but no breath was
+heard.
+
+"Name the berry, sir, or I claim my advantage!" Ruth stood upright with
+the spray in her hand.
+
+"Wintergreen," ventured the fellow, wildly.
+
+"Wrong!" sneered Ruth, "and there is no second trial."
+
+"How can you prove me wrong?" jeered the man, coming insolently close;
+"who is to decide?"
+
+"Your head officer, sir," flashed Ruth; "lead on, I will gladly leave it
+to him. After he has heard the tale from me--from _me_, mark--I will
+leave it to him. Perhaps there is one gentleman in the king's troops.
+Lead on! Why stand staring when your stake is so high!" A dignity and
+fearlessness came to the angry girl.
+
+"Do you lead, or shall I?" she asked.
+
+"I--I beg your pardon!" cringed the fellow, "I will abide by your
+decision."
+
+"Go, then!" cried Ruth, her temper breaking bounds, "and if you are a
+sample of my Lord Howe's men, I am thinking our General will have but a
+short tussle. Go!"
+
+The man retraced his steps, sulkily. He had been foraging on his own
+account, and had unearthed bigger game than he could manage.
+
+Ruth watched the man until he passed from sight. As she turned about she
+faced Andy sitting among the bushes. She jumped, then laughed nervously.
+
+"How did you get your cane?" she asked.
+
+"I was not six feet away." Andy's voice was strangely calm. "I hope you
+know, Ruth," he faltered, 'that had things turned out differently, I
+would have been with you. You know that?"
+
+"Yes, Andy." A flush came to the pale face. "I think I feared you would
+come more than anything else. But I do not trust that fellow. He will
+come back. I know he was suspicious. Choose another way--next time!"
+
+"Aye, and I'll stop up this trail. Good-by, Ruth. Hurry, I will wait
+until you are safe, and this passage made harmless."
+
+For a few days longer Andy remained near home, not caring to run the
+risk of seeking the longer path of which he knew, while the Britisher's
+suspicions might still be alert. Once or twice he had met the fellow on
+the public highway, and he feared to arouse any further cause for
+watchfulness. He had discovered, also, that the man had gone back to the
+spot where he had encountered Ruth, but Andy laughed, when he recalled
+how cunningly he had hidden the trail. But now the boy could wait no
+longer, he must try to get near the lines and listen.
+
+Taking the longer way, he left his crutch hidden inside a cave-like
+opening. He would never again trust the outside. Then in true Indian
+fashion he crept along through the rocky passage. He reached the other
+end and for an hour or more waited patiently, but only the passing of a
+lonely sentinel rewarded him, and he guessed that no news would come
+that way.
+
+He dared not emerge from his shelter, for the day was too bright and
+clear, the sentinel would surely spy him, and better no news than to
+give away the secret of the passage. Disappointedly he crept back, and
+at the other end put his hand cautiously forth to grasp his crutch. Then
+he became instantly aware that he was discovered, for his hand was
+grasped in a firm, unyielding clutch.
+
+Andy's heart stood still. He had no doubt but that Ruth's annoyer had
+dogged his steps and had captured him. But there was little of the
+coward about Andy; he would face the worst. He pushed through the tangle
+of leaves, trying to free his hand, but the clasp was like iron. The
+captor was not the Britisher, but a man of quite another sort. He was
+young, handsome, splendidly formed. As he lay at full length upon the
+moss Andy thought he had never seen so tall a man. He wore velvet
+knee-breeches, long blue coat, and a wide-brimmed hat, which shielded a
+pair of friendly, laughing eyes. One glance and Andy lost all fear.
+
+"Now that you have come from your hole, you young mole, good-morning to
+you, and where have you fared?" The voice was ringing and full of cheer.
+
+"Good-morning, sir," Andy made answer.
+
+"And where have you fared?"
+
+"That I cannot tell you, sir."
+
+"You cannot tell me!" the man sighed, impatiently. "Now, do you know,
+for a moment I fancied that you were just the lad who could guide me
+over your interesting island. What with all this excitement, a peaceful
+traveler has no show above-ground. I hoped you might lead me
+mole-fashion."
+
+"I will gladly show you through the pass, sir, as far as the gate a
+mile or so below."
+
+"As far as the gate! Always as far as something! I want to go
+beyond--'as far!' What care I for countersigns and passports. I want the
+freedom of the island, and a chance to study its rocks and flowers and
+very interesting weeds. Boys often know paths unknown to any one
+else--except Indians!"
+
+"But I am a lame boy much dependent upon a crutch."
+
+"You can dispense with it at times," laughed the stranger. "For a good
+two hours you did without it to-day. It and I have been keeping company.
+I followed you at a distance, thinking easily to overtake you, when
+piff! you were gone, and I and the crutch--for you see I searched the
+hole--were alone!"
+
+For some moments Andy's hand had been free, and now as he looked at the
+speaker he saw that he was holding in his open palm the charm which last
+he had beheld that glorious morning by the riverside.
+
+With a glad cry he sprang up. "I am Andy McNeal!" he said, and he
+doffed Sam's hat, which was his only martial possession.
+
+"And I--am the schoolmaster!"
+
+The two clasped hands. That was the beginning. Through the following
+days the master abode in Janie's house. The good woman asked no
+questions. Her curiosity burned and burned, but wisdom held it in check.
+Enough that Andy was the companion of this mighty person. Enough that
+her humble roof sheltered him, and her able hands served him faithfully.
+It was wonderful, and--enough. Ruth, too, throbbed with excitement, but
+went her ways calmly as if it were a common enough thing for a splendid
+schoolmaster to suddenly undertake Andy's neglected education, and pay
+for his lodging and board by instructing the hostess's son.
+
+This was what was going on. Book in hand the two walked abroad quite
+openly. Sometimes it would be rocks or flowers they were bent upon
+understanding, at other times the intricacies of the English language
+were the paths they followed. Occasionally Ruth would be asked to join
+in the walks and talks, but oftener they were alone. There were real
+lessons. Andy pondered upon them deeply, and his hungry mind fed upon
+the feast. Of course, so fine a master walking abroad with the lame boy,
+aroused the notice of the sentinels, but to their questions he answered
+so glibly, that there remained nothing to do but ask more. The game
+became tiresome.
+
+The tutor and his pupil kept within bounds, so there was no excuse for
+interference. But one day, quite lost in abstraction, the two passed
+beyond the gate at the end of the pass, and strolled down the road
+patroled by the British. Suddenly a loud "Halt!" made Andy jump. A look
+of surprise passed over the master's face as a bayonet was thrust in
+front of him.
+
+The soldier was the one who had accosted Ruth; Andy knew him at once.
+
+"Dear me! dear me!" cried the master, querulously, "after seeing us pass
+to and fro so often, one would not think it necessary to resort to such
+rudeness. Pray, good fellow, is not this his Majesty's highway, and free
+to all?"
+
+"No," grumbled the sentinel, lowering his weapon; "what's your
+business?"
+
+"Schoolmaster."
+
+"I do not mean that. I see you prodding around rocks and weeds with your
+noses in books, but I want to know what you mean on this road?"
+
+"I desire to take a walk on it. I have no weapon, I am a peaceful
+person. May I pass?"
+
+"You better turn back. This road is sentineled all the way to camp.
+You're too simple to go alone. You are an American?"
+
+"Certainly. Born and bred in the colonies."
+
+"A rebel?"
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"A rebel, I say?"
+
+"I am loyal to the heart's core!" the master replied. "Come, Andy, the
+way back is doubtless more pleasant for peaceful folk than the way
+before. Conjugate to live, Andy."
+
+Once beyond sight and hearing of the foe, the master bared his head.
+"Loyal we are, and we know to whom! But how long it takes to disarm
+their doubts!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THROUGH THE CAVE
+
+
+That same night, as Andy lay sleeping, a strange sound startled him. In
+an instant he was out of bed, and limping toward the window. Again came
+the plaintive sound. It was some one mimicking a night-owl, and doing it
+very badly, as the boy's true ear detected at once.
+
+Andy replied, in a much better imitation; then, from out the shrubbery
+beneath the window, the master stepped forth in the moonlight. He
+beckoned to the boy, and then moved back into the shadow of the trees.
+
+Always, with Andy, there was the struggle between the quick, alert mind
+and will, and the weaker body. However, with trembling fingers, he
+dressed as rapidly as possible, gladly remembering that he could reach
+the ground by the vine, thus saving time, and making sure that his
+mother would not be disturbed.
+
+In a few moments he was ready. He dropped his crutch cautiously from the
+window, and began to descend himself. The man among the shadows did not
+move, though his expectant eyes were on the watch. Andy, keeping well in
+the shelter of the shade, reached his friend.
+
+"That fellow we met to-day was prowling about the house an hour ago,"
+whispered the master; "he looked boldly into my window. I was awake and
+saw his features distinctly, though I fancy he thought me unconscious. I
+saw him leave by the stream path. He thinks me safe for to-night, but
+they are suspicious, those Britishers, and you and I must get through
+the passage to their lines to-night. I believe something is afoot, and
+they do not wish to run any chances. Lead on, Andy McNeal; before break
+of day I must know all, all that is possible, and be away."
+
+"Follow!" said Andy, trembling with excitement, but losing no time. Down
+upon hands and knees they went, and no creatures of the wood and night
+could have been more silent.
+
+"All's well!" came from a far-off sentry; and the man and boy breathed
+quicker. A moment of rest at the opening of the cave-like path where
+Andy and the master had first met, then into the narrow gloom toward the
+danger line.
+
+"The way is narrow," whispered Andy, "but it leads out just behind the
+British tents."
+
+"Ah! for Vulcan's hammer!" laughed the master softly; "I'd hew me a
+broader path, Andy. The width of me suffers sorely for the cause." Andy
+smiled in the darkness. The mirth in the master's voice gave courage.
+
+"It is broader further on," encouraged the guide.
+
+"God be praised for that!" groaned the man as he came in contact again
+with the rocks.
+
+The crutch had been left at the entrance, well hidden. Hands and knees
+were all that were needed on that journey. Once a slimy creature crawled
+across the master's hand, and he uttered an exclamation.
+
+"Don't do that again!" breathed Andy, in alarm.
+
+The minutes seemed endless, and the progress very slow. The darkness was
+so intense that it was something of a shock to the master when he
+suddenly became aware that he could see the outline of his guide's body.
+There was a small opening ahead, and a gleam of moonlight shot in!
+Neither spoke. If the British sentry was beyond there was every need of
+stillness now.
+
+"I hear steps!" said Andy in a breath; "listen!"
+
+The duller ear of the master heard no sound for a moment, then slowly
+and alarmingly near, he _did_ catch the sound of the measured tread of a
+soldier, and, from the opposite direction evidently, a second man. Near
+the opening the two met.
+
+"Fine night, Martin; everything quiet?"
+
+"Quiet? Lord, yes! If something does not happen soon, I swear I'll cut
+and run. It wouldn't take a great deal to make me quit. The pluck of the
+rebels rather tickles me. I've half a mind to toss my luck among them,
+and stand or fall with the colonies."
+
+"Better change your mind," laughed the other; "something's going to
+happen and that pretty quick."
+
+"Is that hearsay, Norton, or authentic? I've just come into camp. I've
+been having a picnic over on Long Island--raiding farms and doing a lot
+of dirty work that sickens me. Clean fighting is what I set out to do,
+and gad! this kind of thing turns a fellow's stomach. We've been fed on
+the talk that these rebels are cowards. Cowards, bah! And as for that
+big, silent general of theirs, he--he rather appeals to me!"
+
+"Don't be white-livered, Martin!" sneered Norton. "You may get some cold
+steel from your own countrymen for uttering such sentiments. My
+information is all right, it comes from his lordship himself. Washington
+is too dangerous to leave longer alone; should he find out--what was
+that?"
+
+The master, less a child of the woods than Andy, in his excitement had
+tried to creep closer, and the quick ear of the sentinel had noticed
+the sound.
+
+"It is this accursed spot again!" muttered Norton; "twice lately I could
+have sworn I heard breathing among the bushes. I've beaten every inch of
+ground, and not a living creature have I found. I'm not squirmish, and a
+rebel now and then don't count, but--well, you know I brought that
+parson's cub down a bit further back. Lord! how the fellow strutted, and
+when I called to him he started like a stuck pig. I cannot forget the
+look on his face as--as I fired.
+
+"I'm agreeing with you, Martin, clean fighting or nothing. I'm not up to
+this slaughtering of infants myself. I half expect to see that baby
+playing in the moonlight every time a leaf rustles at night." The man
+laughed uneasily. "Once I fancied I saw a face--a pale boy-face--shining
+in the bushes. Lord, it gave me a turn!"
+
+"Could there be a secret passage?" asked Martin in a low voice. "A
+fellow named Godkin told me an hour ago that he had his eye on a lame
+chap and a gawk of a schoolmaster who were always skulking around close
+to the ground. He says the boy lives hereabouts and knows the woods like
+a snake."
+
+"No fool rebel could keep such a secret from me. Godkin likes to talk
+and swagger. He feels his oats. Come, just to pass the time, let's beat
+the bushes."
+
+"Back out!" breathed Andy. There was no time to be lost. But the
+backward movement was most painfully slow. The men tramping in the
+bushes, feeling the thing but child-play, laughed and talked loudly.
+
+"How many men has the old fox!" asked Martin, giving a cut to the bushes
+with his gun.
+
+"Twelve thousand, though he gives out many more."
+
+"He's got grit," rejoined Martin, "with my lord gripping his throat at
+close quarters with double that number at his heels, to stand still and
+calm as--as this rock! Gad, I nearly broke my gun! This land produces
+more rocks than anything else. I heard Washington is planning to get on
+Long Island again."
+
+"He'll never get there. My Lord Howe--what in thunder!" Norton had
+slipped and fallen, and as he lay so, his face was on a level with the
+opening in the rocks!
+
+"Come here!" he gasped. "Got a light! There's a hole here."
+
+Martin struck a light and peered in. As he did so Andy's white,
+horrified face gleamed forth from the shadow. Without a word the head
+was withdrawn, and both Andy and the master knew that the man, or both
+men, would follow at once.
+
+"They are big!" moaned Andy, "and they do not know the way as we do. Oh,
+hurry!"
+
+The master feared that the sentinel would fire into the cave, but as the
+moment passed, and he did not, he took heart, and crept backward as fast
+as he could. Then came the sure sound of the chase. One or both had
+entered the passage! They had this advantage; they could come straight
+on, while the pursued were going backward, the master, being the bulkier
+and more uncertain, barring Andy's smaller body.
+
+"For our lives!" almost sobbed the boy.
+
+The oncoming foe once or twice struck a light, but the curving of the
+passage hid the prey. However, the sound ahead was enough to guide the
+Britishers. Then suddenly the master became wedged, and the leader of
+the pursuers came so near that Andy fancied he felt his breath.
+
+"I don't hear the little scamp!" muttered Norton; "perhaps the passage
+divides. Wait until I strike a light." In that instant the master
+extricated himself, and with desperate haste the two backed along, while
+the light flickered, and then went out, much to the dismay of the foe.
+
+"Hurry!" commanded Norton; "I hear him again; don't fool with the
+light!" The head man and Andy were not a yard apart now, and the
+narrowest of the passage was yet to come!
+
+The master realized this, too. He knew if he were to get wedged again
+all would be over, and Andy was the one nearest the enemy! He paused and
+Andy came in violent contact with him. The leading Britisher was upon
+them! The form behind Andy darted forth an arm of steely muscle, and a
+terrific blow fell sure and sudden on the face of the British sentinel!
+
+"My God!" screamed the fellow, and "The devil!" echoed from his
+companion.
+
+"Now!" whispered the master, "this is our last fling!"
+
+It was over at last. The entrance was gained. Taking no time to consider
+how spent Andy was, the master began to pile rocks at the opening. It
+took not overlong, for the mouth of the cave was small.
+
+"So!" almost laughed the master in his relief, "before my British friend
+gets his senses back, the way is barred. Good! Here, Andy, lad, give me
+your hand. To the house, and to bed. Ere daybreak I must be well away
+from here. They are planning an attack at once, and I know where I can
+get the plans, methinks. That fellow saw you, and there is no further
+chance for me here."
+
+"You--you are going?" Andy, leaning on the master and his crutch, was
+making good headway. "The man saw only me; surely you can stay in
+safety."
+
+"Andy, do you think the fellow thought you dealt that blow?" The clear
+laugh was stifled. "No; we are marked men. But I am on the right course
+now. Washington shall soon have the papers he needs."
+
+"Where do you go?" whispered Andy; "can I not be of use?"
+
+"Not now, my friend, and if we never meet again, Andy McNeal, remember
+whom we have both served well, and that you have made brighter for me
+many a weary hour. I care not what the thoughtless may think of me, but
+I would have you know that what the future holds of seeming dishonor and
+shame, I assumed in truest loyalty.
+
+"From what I am to do, others shrank. I saw but one way, though, God
+knows, my heart was wrung. I reserve nothing. Even what seems my honor I
+give to my country and Washington!"
+
+The master and Andy stood still in the moonlight, and the two young
+faces gleamed white and troubled. "Good-night and farewell. Thank your
+mother." He was gone.
+
+Andy painfully and slowly climbed the stairs and entered his bedroom.
+
+His heart was very heavy. He had seemed on the verge of doing a great
+service, and behold, the chance had fled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A SUSPICION
+
+
+September dragged wretchedly. There was no need of stealing among the
+bushes for news or amusement.
+
+Indeed, Andy wisely concluded that to keep to the open, innocent ways
+would be the only possible thing that could help the absent master.
+
+He missed the lessons and the exciting comradeship, too; the contrast
+was painful. Janie saw, but questioned not. It was all beyond her. Ruth
+was the only relief.
+
+"Fear not, Andy," she would say. "You must bide your time, and wait
+patiently. 'Tis what Washington is doing. Copy your General in this, as
+well as other things. One may serve in that way as well as in others.
+You should hear the tales Hans Brickman tells of the doings in the
+patriot camp. He carries eggs and honey, you know.
+
+"He says that Washington isn't just fighting or holding in check the
+king's men; but his own troops are acting shamefully--threatening to
+desert, and begging for money; complaining all day long. Oh! if I were a
+soldier I would show them!" The girl flung her strong young arms above
+her head, and brought down her clenched fists in a laughably vehement
+way.
+
+"And there sits that great General, never flinching, but writing to
+Congress to pay the babies; and calming the tyrants with one breath, and
+shaming them into obedience with the next.
+
+"Hans says he dashes at them sometimes with his sword, and slaps the raw
+recruits into shape, telling them that if they run when he orders them
+to advance, he'll shoot them himself. There's a man for you!"
+
+"Indeed there is a man," nodded Andy, and his face grew brighter. "And I
+should cry shame to myself because I am so impatient of this lameness
+which holds me back."
+
+"Holds you back! Andy McNeal, that is rank ingratitude. You've been up
+to some mighty doings, that I know, or you would not be hungering for
+more glory. Oh, I can see a bit ahead of my nose. Time was when you hung
+around, not knowing glory because it had not come your way. You've
+tasted it, Andy, and your thirst grows. I know a thing or two. You're
+getting strong, too, Andy; you're an inch taller than I. Father
+mentioned the fact this very morning. You're taking on airs, but
+remember, I knew you when you were less a man. Have a care; a woman has
+a tongue. I'll be calling you down if you carry things with too high a
+hand."
+
+Andy laughed and stood straighter. Then, very quietly:
+
+"Andy, what was the master's name?"
+
+"Ruth, I do not know."
+
+"Do not, or will not tell?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"Can you tell me why he stayed here?"
+
+"I cannot tell you, Ruth. Why do you ask?" The girl paused and dropped
+her clear eyes.
+
+"They do say, the whisper has reached my father, that he was a spy,
+and--and a dangerous one!"
+
+"They lie!" said Andy, hotly; "he, a spy!" Then the boyish voice fell.
+The last, sad talk under the stars came clearly back, and in the shock
+of the memory the boy trembled.
+
+Ruth watched him closely. "I'm not over-curious," she faltered, "but I
+fear for you. If he--if he were a spy you were seen with him far too
+often for your good. Father even feared for me."
+
+"Ruth" (Andy's voice had a new tone), "I can believe no dishonor of the
+master, and I am proud that I walked with him and was his friend!"
+
+"Aye" (Ruth looked doubtful), "but a spy is not a good thing, Andy, no
+matter what shape it takes."
+
+Old, rigid training held them both, but Andy must defend his friend,
+though the honest soul of Ruth shone from her eyes, and challenged him.
+
+"It is as a thing is used," he began, lamely, but seeing his way dimly.
+
+"Father does not preach that," Ruth broke in.
+
+"No; nor would I preach it," sighed Andy.
+
+"But you would act it?" Ruth flashed.
+
+"I do--not know. I cannot think the master was aught but honest. If he
+were--were--" Andy could not use the hard word--"if he were finding
+things out, you may be sure, Ruth, it was not for his own uplifting. If
+he gave what other men would call--would call their honor--it was
+because he held not even _that_ from his country. I can--see--how--that
+could--be!"
+
+Ruth raised her eyes. "Could you, Andy?" she said.
+
+"Yes. I could give it as I could my life. I would take no recompense, I
+would just give, and do anything. Ruth, suppose you knew a truth
+about--about--well, about me; a truth that, if it were known, would be
+the death of me. Would you tell, or--or would you save me?"
+
+It was a rigid moment for the stern little maid. Her eyes fell, then
+were raised again.
+
+"I--do--not--know," she panted, "but a lie is a lie, and I should expect
+to be punished."
+
+"So should I for any dishonorable thing," agreed Andy. "That is just
+it, but it would be my willingness to do it, and then to suffer, that
+makes the difference."
+
+The two were standing near the end of the Pass at a small gate, and as
+Andy ceased speaking a sound smote their ears that turned them pale. It
+was the sound of many horsemen galloping wildly onward.
+
+"The king's men landed at Kip's Bay this morning," gasped Andy,
+clutching the gate, "and they do say that Douglass's men are not strong
+enough to defend the point."
+
+It was Putnam's five brigades; the boy and girl only knew they were
+patriot troops. They had been ordered by Washington to make for
+Manhattanville before retreat was cut off.
+
+Young Aaron Burr was acting as guide. The master had once pointed him
+out to Andy, and the boy remembered the face well. Boldly and fearlessly
+he was riding, and Andy's voice broke into a cheer as he recognized the
+noble face. The leaders halted. There were several roads ahead; which
+was safest and quickest? Burr ventured a question.
+
+"Which way leads most directly to Manhattanville?" he said.
+
+"Keep close to the river, and make for Kingsbridge, Colonel," Andy
+answered. "That road is not so carefully watched; it is rougher but
+safer."
+
+Burr gave him a smile, then galloped ahead. The last weary stragglers
+were barely out of sight, when again the sound of on-coming horsemen
+broke the stillness.
+
+"These are king's men!" groaned Ruth, who had stood rigidly silent until
+now. "Ah! Andy, and the others so little in advance!"
+
+Constantly blowing their bugles and shouting derisively after the
+fleeing patriots, my Lord Howe's men advanced.
+
+"'Tis a rare fox-hunt!" laughed one.
+
+"But the fox and his mates are out of sight, my lord," cried another.
+
+"For the moment. The ways divide a few rods beyond. Did the rebels pass
+this way?" asked an officer noticing Andy and Ruth.
+
+[Illustration: "BURR VENTURED A QUESTION."]
+
+"Yes, sir!" answered Ruth, promptly, and for a moment Andy sickened at
+what he feared she was about to do. It was too late, though, for him to
+interfere.
+
+"Which road did they take?"
+
+The instant's pause seemed an eternity to Andy. Then calmly and with
+clear, uplifted eyes:
+
+"The main road, sir, it being the safer and shorter!" Andy felt a
+moment's dizziness. Then a rough voice startled him:
+
+"I know that boy, my lord; he was the one in the secret passage, about
+which I told you. I shall not soon forget him."
+
+"I thought you said your companion in the cave was dealt a stunning
+blow; surely this lad could have done no such thing," answered the
+Captain.
+
+"I could swear to him, your lordship, though I saw him but for a moment
+as Martin went down, and the light went out. Hi! there, Martin, come
+here," he called. A man galloped up, a man with a dark bruise upon his
+forehead and eye.
+
+"Martin, do you know that boy?" Martin looked, and in the clear light he
+saw and knew Andy at once; but something staggered him, and he
+stammered and shook.
+
+"Did you strike this soldier?" asked the Captain impatiently of Andy.
+
+"No, sir!" The words came sharply.
+
+"You do not recognize him?" asked the officer of Martin.
+
+"He--is--the--same!" Martin blurted. "We are losing time, my lord."
+
+"There is no way to settle the thing here; we are losing time, and your
+story of that night in the cave is too important to overlook, Norton. If
+this is the boy we must deal with him later. The young scamp probably
+knows the roads well. Lead on, you rascal, but if you play any tricks
+and mislead us, my men shall pin you to a tree."
+
+Ruth gave one despairing cry:
+
+"He is lame," she panted. "For shame! How can he lead a mounted troop?"
+
+"We'll go slowly. The game's nearly up, my girl," laughed Norton, "and a
+prick of the bayonet"--he suited the word with an action, and prodded
+Andy on the arm--"will hurry the lamest patriot. Lead on,
+cave-crawler!"
+
+Andy gave one look at Ruth. A look of bravery, appreciation, and mute
+thanks for her part of the work.
+
+"It's all right, Ruth," he called back. "Tell mother I'll lead them
+straight enough and be home in an hour. Good-by."
+
+By a winding way leading from the main road they went; through
+Apthorpe's place they cantered at their ease, and so came to the highway
+a mile beyond.
+
+"There may be a shorter cut, my lord," suggested Norton; then he paused.
+"Does your lordship observe there are no marks on the road that bespeak
+the recent passing of a regiment? This should mean the young rebel's
+death!"
+
+"He's a spy in the old fox's hire!" shouted another.
+
+"String him up, along with the schoolmaster down at the Beekman place
+to-morrow morning!" roared a third. All was wild commotion in a moment.
+But in that moment Andy took his chances and made for the thicket, and
+the hidden path over which he and Washington went that day that now
+seemed so long ago. A man leaned from a horse and tried to clutch him,
+lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. Confusion covered Andy's
+dash.
+
+"He's gone!" yelled the man who had fallen.
+
+"Which way?" shouted several in response.
+
+Which way? Aye, that was the query. Which way!
+
+Andy made for the dry bed of the stream. No rustling leaves must betray
+him. Not in flight was his safety now, but in silent hiding until
+darkness should come. Down into the muddy pool of the once rushing
+brook, rolled the boy. In the distance he heard:
+
+"No trail here, my lord!" and he smiled grimly.
+
+"Well, a lost lame rebel is of less account than the regiments ahead,"
+shouted the Captain. "Bad luck to the young devil. Cut cross country and
+try the river road!"
+
+"They have an hour to the good!" thought Andy, as he remembered the
+weary patriots and young Aaron Burr. Soon all was quiet, and with the
+palpitating silence a new thought grew in Andy's brain. "Better string
+him up to-morrow with the schoolmaster!" Whom did they mean!
+
+"Schoolmaster! Spy!" The two words struck dully on the aching brain.
+Suppose! Andy sat up and gazed wildly into the dense underbrush. "Could
+it be?" But no; the idea was too horrible.
+
+The long shadows began to creep among the rocks they loved so well.
+Still Andy sat staring into the awful possibility that the words
+conjured up.
+
+"Schoolmaster! Spy!" He could stand it no longer. Cautiously he crept up
+the bank. Through all the excitement he had clung to his crutch. It must
+serve him well now. He set out determinedly toward the highway. Come
+what might, he must reach the Beekman place as soon as possible, and he
+hoped that the road was safe, owing to interest being centered
+elsewhere. In this hope he was right. Below and above him, excitement
+ran rife, but the highway seemed to belong to him alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THEN MARCHED THE BRAVE
+
+
+A terrible storm was coming up, after the sultry day. Andy's whole being
+centered upon the thought that he must reach the Beekman Place; and the
+coming storm might delay him. Only so far did it affect him. He felt no
+hunger; it troubled him a little that his mother and Ruth would worry
+about him, but nothing mattered so much as the solving of the doubt that
+was causing his heart and brain to throb.
+
+Strangely enough, his lameness decreased as his excitement waxed
+greater, or it seemed to, and he considered it less. The birds stopped
+twittering their vesper songs, and huddled fearfully in their shelters.
+A peal of thunder was followed quickly by another. The rocks took up the
+echo and prolonged the sound. Between, the flashes of lightning, the
+darkness could almost be felt, so tangible and dense it seemed. Once
+Andy fell and struck his head. The blow made him giddy, but the rain
+dashing in his face steadied him, and he plodded on. Then a glare in the
+distance attracted him. It was in the direction toward which he was
+going.
+
+"A fire!" he muttered. "All the more reason for hoping they will not
+notice me." The town might burn, what matter, if only the way were free
+to the Beekman place.
+
+It was still dark when he reached his destination, worn and haggard.
+Over toward the greenhouse people were stirring about, and Andy rightly
+guessed that the prisoner, whoever he might be, was there. No luckier
+place could have been chosen, so far as Andy was concerned. It was
+surrounded by shrubbery through which he could creep right up to the
+building, providing, of course, that the sentinels did not see him. But
+the sentinels were relaxing their watch. The hours of the troublesome
+spy were nearly ended, and there could be little danger of any further
+trouble on his account.
+
+Andy crept along, keeping to the bushes. The storm was nearly over, and
+no lightning could betray his motions now.
+
+Once the glass house was reached, Andy looked eagerly in. There was a
+pile of rubbish in one corner, and a man was sitting upon a rude bench
+near it; between him and Andy, however, were two men with their backs to
+the boy, and they quite hid the face of the man upon the bench. The two
+were listening, and the third man was speaking. Andy was too far away to
+hear, but, gaining courage, he crept around to the other side of the
+house, and so came close to the group within. Something in the attitude
+of the man upon the bench had caused the boy's heart to leap madly, then
+almost stop. He raised his eyes slowly--one look was enough!
+
+Sorrow and ill-treatment had done their work, but the dear face was the
+same! Dauntless, undying courage shone upon the uplifted face.
+
+It was the master! The errand, whatever it had been, was over. Success
+or failure? Andy could not tell from the calm features. Spy or hero!
+What mattered? There sat the beloved friend, deserted and forlorn--still
+unconquered though the fetters bound him close.
+
+"I would send, if your kindness will permit, these letters. They will
+make lighter the sorrow of them I love."
+
+Andy bowed his head and clutched at his throat to stifle the rising cry.
+A broken pane of glass near-by permitted him to hear clearly every word.
+
+One man on guard had a low, brutal face, the other, Andy noticed, had a
+more humane look.
+
+"Have you the letters written?" asked the coarse fellow.
+
+"I have." The master drew them from his breast and handed them to the
+speaker.
+
+"One is to Washington," laughed the man. "Gad, you must take us for raw
+recruits."
+
+"I shall be beyond harming you soon. That letter refers to personal
+matters, I swear." There was superb dignity in the voice. "I would have
+his excellency know that I regret nothing. I would do all over again,
+did the need arise. Washington would see that my comrades understand
+that."
+
+The man with the letters gave vent to a brutal oath. Then the quieter
+man spoke for the first.
+
+"If we read the letters and find them harmless, I am for forwarding
+them. To whom are the others addressed?"
+
+"One to my family, the other--to the woman I was to have married!" The
+master, for the first time, bowed his head, as if his burden were too
+heavy.
+
+"I think we may carry out your request if the contents are what you
+imply."
+
+"And make a hero of this spy!" snarled the rougher man. "Every word may
+have a double meaning, Colonel. We have the papers he so carefully hid,
+but these letters may contain the same information, slyly concealed." He
+tore the letters across twice, and flung the pieces on the floor. "Death
+and oblivion to all rebel spies!" he hissed.
+
+The master never flinched, but his pale face grew paler. "Is there
+anything else we can do for you?" asked the milder voice, "something
+safer than forwarding letters?"
+
+"I should like to have the right generally granted a dying man, of
+seeing a minister. One lives a few miles above here. I am sure he would
+come."
+
+"And hear what you dare not write," sneered the torturer. "You are not
+the sort to need a death-bed scene; besides, there isn't going to be any
+death-bed. I dare say the parson would be glad enough to carry your
+so-called confession to Washington. Bah! you are crude in your last
+moments."
+
+"Come," impatiently spoke the fellow's companion, "I have no stomach for
+your jests and brutality." Then, turning to the master, he said: "We
+will leave you for a few hours. It seems the only thing we can do for
+you. Try to rest."
+
+Down the greenhouse the two went. The master was alone! He bowed his
+splendid head, and perhaps tasted, for the first time, the dregs of
+desolation.
+
+Andy, lying low among the bushes, saw that the master's feet were
+bound. The sight wrung the boy's soul. Perhaps he had wildly hoped that
+escape were possible, but one glance showed him that the fetters were
+cruelly strong. What could he do? Near and far he heard the measured
+tread of sentinels at their posts. He wondered that he had ever gained
+his present position unnoticed. It was doubtful now that he could make
+his own escape, for a gray dawn was breaking in the east. But the
+thought of his own danger troubled the boy little. He was thinking of a
+peculiar whirring sound that he and the master had once practiced
+together. A sound like an insect. "'Twould be a good signal," the
+teacher had said. Would he remember it?
+
+Andy pressed close to the broken glass, and chirruped distinctly. The
+master started and raised his eyes. Was he dreaming! Again Andy
+ventured. Then a smile flitted across the master's face.
+
+"Andy!" he breathed.
+
+"Here, close to you!"
+
+Slowly, without a suspicious start, the man turned in the boy's
+direction; and the two brave comrades smiled at each other over the gulf
+of pain and grief.
+
+"I will try to sleep!" This aloud, to regale the ear of any possible
+listener other than Andy. With difficulty the master stretched, as best
+he could, his fettered limbs upon the floor, taking heed to lie as close
+to Andy as possible.
+
+Silence. Then the man tossed and talked aloud in troubled fashion.
+
+Andy, meantime, with a daring that might risk all, put his hand in the
+broken pane and drew the bits of paper of the torn letters to him.
+
+"Tell Washington," moaned the voice of the master in a half sleepy
+whisper, "I regret nothing. Am proud to die and to have given _all_."
+
+"I have the letters!" breathed Andy. "If I live Washington shall have
+them and know all."
+
+"Thank God!" came from the man upon the floor. "You are a true friend,
+Andy McNeal."
+
+"Good-by," groaned Andy. "Some one is coming!" The cold perspiration
+covered the boy's body, for steps were drawing near.
+
+"There could hardly be any one outside," said a loud, rough voice.
+"Still we must take no chances. The poor devil has reason to toss in his
+sleep and talk. I doubt if he were doing anything else."
+
+The need was desperate. Andy crawled like a snake through the grasses.
+Escape seemed impossible. He passed the two searchers in the friendly
+gloom, and breathed freer. This was a lucky move, for the two men
+examined thoroughly the spot where Andy had been. They discovered the
+broken glass, and one remarked that the weeds had been crushed.
+
+"Some animal has been prowling about, there are no footprints," said the
+other.
+
+Andy's Indian training was serving him well. In a few minutes the two
+passed on. "We'll walk around the place. Daybreak is near. The dangerous
+spy's time is short."
+
+Andy made the most of that time. Stealing cautiously in and out of the
+shrubbery, he worked his way out of sight of the greenhouse. The chill
+of the morning made him shiver. How many hours he had passed without
+food or drink he did not consider; but his heart seemed dead within
+him.
+
+Painfully he came at last to the shelter of the woods. Then he sat down
+upon a fallen tree, clutching the scraps of paper against his throbbing
+breast. In imagination he seemed to see the master being led forth to
+die. See! the east was rosy. Now, even now, the brave soul was marching
+on undaunted and undismayed. Andy could see nothing in the brilliancy of
+that lovely morning light, but the uplifted face of the man he loved. A
+pride and joy came to the boy. That hero was his friend! The world might
+call him a spy--but he, Andy McNeal, knew that he had given all for the
+country's cause, and regretted nothing, even in the face of a dishonored
+death.
+
+"And Washington shall know!" breathed Andy. "As soon as I can reach
+headquarters, the General shall have these!" Fiercely he pressed the
+papers. Then he arose. He was stiff and deadly weary.
+
+"I will go to Ruth!" he sighed. "I must have food and rest. I dare not
+go to mother. My plight is too sad. I will save her the sight."
+Bedraggled and blood-stained--for the fall of the night before had left
+its mark--Andy went on, looking, as indeed he was, a soldier of the
+cause.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+ANDY HEARS A STRANGE TALE
+
+
+Andy made but poor time to the minister's house. It was well on toward
+noon when the shouts of the children at play cheered his heart. He had
+been obliged to rest many times, and once he had fallen asleep and slept
+longer than he knew.
+
+As he drew near the cottage he saw Ruth kneeling by Sam's grave. It was
+one of the girl's daily duties of love to bring fresh flowers and cover
+the mound with the bloom. Glad enough was Andy to see her alone, and in
+this quiet spot. He went more rapidly; the sight of Ruth gave him new
+strength. He had no intention of frightening her, he made no attempt to
+walk quietly, but indeed a look at his haggard face would have caused
+alarm in any case.
+
+"Ruth!" The girl looked up, stared, but made no cry. She rubbed her
+eyes feebly as if awakening from sleep, then she grew deadly pale.
+
+"Andy McNeal!" she whispered. "Whatever has happened?"
+
+"I will tell you." He sank down wearily, and took the cap from his head.
+
+"My heart has been filled with horror," Ruth went on, giving Andy time
+to catch his breath. "I dared not tell any one what really happened.
+They think you merely went as guide. I never expected to see you alive
+again. I am not sure that I do now!" She smiled pitifully, and came near
+Andy to chafe his cold hands.
+
+"I'm alive," the boy faltered. "But, oh! Ruth, I have lived years." Then
+brokenly, and with aching heart, he told the story of the past hours.
+Ruth never took her eyes from his face, but her color came and went as
+she listened. The tale was ended at last, ended with all the tragic
+detail and the showing of the scraps of paper. Then Ruth stood up.
+
+"Andy," she said, in her prompt fashion, "the house is empty. Mother has
+gone to your home, father will be away until to-morrow. The children
+are easily managed. Now I want you to go in the upper room after you
+have eaten. I want you to rest all day and then--then I have something
+to tell you and--there is more to do."
+
+"Yes; these," sighed Andy, looking at the papers. "I should start at
+once with these."
+
+"'Twould be folly. There are awful doings afoot, Andy McNeal. It is no
+time for a mid-day walk to Harlem Heights. You must do as I say. Come in
+now; you are starved and utterly spent."
+
+Andy followed gladly. It was the course, the only course, of wisdom.
+
+He ate ravenously, and drank a quart of rich milk. Ruth was busied in
+the room above, and when the meal was finished Andy joined her.
+
+"Now," she smiled, "everything is ready." He found a pail of hot water,
+and some of the minister's clothing lay on a chair. "They'll have to do,
+Andy, until I can wash and dry yours," said Ruth.
+
+"What matters?" answered Andy. "If I sleep I shall not mind the rest."
+
+"I know. You must only obey now, Andy. Remember I love to do my share!"
+Tears stood in her brave eyes, and Andy understood.
+
+Andy fell asleep almost at once. The hot bath took the pain from his
+sore body, the clean, worn linen was cool and soothing, and the droning
+of the bees in the near-by hives hushed sorrow and weariness into deep
+oblivion.
+
+And while he dreamed of peaceful walks with the master under sunny
+skies, and smiled in the dreaming, Ruth had summoned Janie, and the
+mother sat waiting patiently the awakening. There was much to tell and
+more to do. But Andy dreamed on.
+
+Four o'clock! The tall clock in the living-room spoke loudly. Andy
+stirred and muttered something, then slept again.
+
+Five o'clock! The boy sat up on the narrow bed and stared into his
+mother's face.
+
+Janie never flinched, though his pallor and the cut on his forehead made
+her heart ache.
+
+"Mother, I must get to Washington at once. I--I have a message."
+
+"Yes, son."
+
+"I do not fear death. It comes but once!"
+
+"Yes, Andy, lad. But I'm thinking you'll not be meeting death just now.
+It looks like you were singled out to live and act for all my old
+misgivings. God forgive me."
+
+She bowed her head and it rested on Andy's shoulder. Stern Janie had
+never done such a thing before, and even at the moment Andy was touched
+and moved. He smoothed the hair away from the pale face, and gently,
+lovingly kissed his mother.
+
+"There are strange happenings, Andy," she sighed.
+
+"There are, indeed," he agreed.
+
+"But things about which you know nothing, lad, and--and I must tell you
+before you go. Get up; dress, son. Ruth and I have made decent your own
+clothing. I can talk better while you move about. I cannot bear your
+eyes, my lad." Andy arose at once and began his dressing, keeping his
+face turned from his mother, but her own was rigidly set toward the
+window.
+
+"Your father has come back, Andy!"
+
+A strange pause, then:
+
+"My father!" Andy had dropped into a chair. The sentence had deprived
+him of strength to stand. He knew his mother never wasted words, or made
+rash statements. His father had come back! And Andy did not know that
+his father was alive. In fact, knew nothing of him, and that struck him
+for the first time with stunning force. Janie's back was straight and
+firm.
+
+"Yes, your father. I kept it all from you. I meant to tell you some day,
+Andy, but time passed and you asked no questions, and I--I thought
+everything was past and gone forever. But he has come back."
+
+"Where is he?" asked Andy.
+
+"At home. He has been hurt, and is feverish and ill. He was doing
+sentinel duty for--for the British, and he received a terrible blow from
+some one in a cave. I cannot tell what is best to do, Andy, and I must
+look to you for help."
+
+Somehow Andy had gotten to his feet, and staggered across the little
+room to his mother. Almost roughly he seized her hand, while the awful
+truth unfolded itself from the dense darkness of the past.
+
+"Say that again!" he commanded. Janie looked at him in amazement.
+
+"Say what!" she asked.
+
+"That about the blow, and--and the cave!"
+
+Janie repeated it, wondering why that detail should so interest Andy.
+
+"You see," she continued, not heeding his horrified look, "I married
+your father when I was very young. I look older than I be, lad. He
+brought me nothing but trouble. He was above me in station. He belonged
+to his majesty's regiment stationed here, and when the regiment was
+recalled he went--back! Little he cared for the girl he left or the baby
+that bore his name! I managed, and neighbors helped me to forget,
+and--and I could not tell you Andy. I hoped I never would be obliged
+to."
+
+"Go on!" Andy still held his mother's hand, but with infinite gentleness
+now. Tears stood in Janie's eyes, and the human need for sympathy met an
+answering thrill in the heart of the son.
+
+"He--he saw you yesterday at the pass, Andy, when they made you guide
+them after the troops, and your face frightened him. He says you look so
+like his mother, that it is just terrible. She has recently died, and
+her memory and the thought that his son might be alive and here, gave
+him a bad turn. He asked your name, and as I kept my own name after he
+deserted me, he guessed the truth, and as soon as he could break away
+from the others he came to me--and--that is all, Andy. But what shall I
+do?"
+
+Andy tried to think. Tried to bring events into orderly line and
+coherence, but the more he tried the more detached he felt, and as if
+the whole matter was one with which he had nothing to do.
+
+"I was so young, Andy, lad, only seventeen!" When had Janie ever pleaded
+before?
+
+"Yes," murmured Andy. "I am nearly seventeen now. Seventeen years are
+long--sometimes. But, of course, you were very young."
+
+"And I had no one to guide me, Andy. I was alone. I have always been
+alone, and it has been hard." A sob rose to the trembling lips. Andy
+looked at his mother, and, oddly enough through all the bewilderment,
+thought that she had a beauty he had never noticed before.
+
+"You were handsome, too," he whispered. Janie started.
+
+"Yes," she replied. "I suppose I was, then. Your voice is like his. It
+always was, Andy. That was one reason that at times I could not bear it.
+Oh, Andy! it is no easy matter to be a lonely woman!" The cry smote the
+listener, and his growing manhood reached out to her.
+
+"Mother, you are not alone. You have me. I will come back to you, stand
+by you, and we will see what is best to do. I must go on my errand, and
+I think you ought to go to--to father!" The word nearly choked him.
+
+"But suppose anything should happen to you?" Janie clung to the hand of
+this new, strange, but well-loved son, "whatever shall I do?
+
+"I think I shall come back to you. I think I am needed, and it seems
+clear to me that I shall come back." Andy smiled into the troubled
+face, and tried to rouse himself into action.
+
+"If you should fall into the hands of the British," whispered Janie,
+"tell them you are the son of Lieutenant Theodore Martin; it may help
+you, son."
+
+"Your name is my name!" Andy proudly broke in. "I never shall seek favor
+through any other. If they take me, they take Andy McNeal, and if I come
+back I shall come bearing that name, until my mother bids me take
+another!"
+
+Janie bowed her head. It had been her first, only weak attitude toward
+her country.
+
+"You are right," she quivered. "But I fear for you."
+
+Presently his mother left him. He and she had work to do, and it must be
+done apart. A few minutes after she was gone, Ruth came up bearing a
+tray of food. She was limping painfully, and Andy, sitting by the window
+lost in thought, got to his feet in alarm. "You are hurt!" he cried. A
+smile spread over the girl's pale face.
+
+"I'm a depraved sinner!" she said, setting the tray on a stand and
+dropping into a chair. "After the war is over I shall repent and take up
+godly ways. For the present I am a lost soul, and given over to Satan.
+Andy, the lie I told yesterday about the river road was the beginning of
+my downfall. How easily we glide downhill."
+
+"'Twas the only thing to do, Ruth," nodded Andy. "I think such a lie
+grows innocent from the start. It was the object, Ruth. What else could
+you have done? It puzzles me sore to try and explain. I just leave the
+lie to God. He will understand."
+
+"I have left it there, Andy, and from the joy and gladness I have felt,
+I believe there was nothing else to do. But this lameness, oh, Andy!"
+
+"How did it happen?"
+
+"Just as the lie did, Andy. This is a bodily lie."
+
+"I do not understand, Ruth."
+
+"Eat, and I will explain." Andy began mechanically. He must be ready for
+his task in any case. Food was the first step.
+
+"I have been reading the Bible to the children, Andy. They wanted the
+story of David. As I read it seemed as if you were like David. When he
+went to meet Goliath, how impossible his victory seemed, but the hand
+that swung the sling was strong enough to win the day. Andy," Ruth bent
+toward him, her face glowing, "you are strong enough to win against your
+Goliath!"
+
+"Mine?"
+
+"Yes; all the king's men! You will get to Washington before another day
+is passed. But--you must let me help you."
+
+Andy set the cup of milk down and stared at the earnest face.
+
+"I'm very dull," he said. "I only know that I must go. I do not see,
+now, that you can help."
+
+"You must not think of going abroad as Andy McNeal," the girl explained.
+"They are watching for you. Janie says that more than one Britisher has
+been to her door."
+
+"Do you know--" Andy began.
+
+"Yes," nodded Ruth, "but he is well hidden. It is you they are after.
+Then, too, I know what the British expect to do. Hans Brickman found
+out and he is almost frightened to death with his secret. He thinks the
+British will see his secret written all over him, and he is afraid to go
+into camp--the patriot camp, you know. He has honey and butter to sell,
+and he sells to friend or foe. I've told him I will go with him
+to-night."
+
+"What secret?" asked Andy, keen to the main point.
+
+"The British war-ships are going up the river!" Ruth was whispering in
+Andy's ear, not daring to trust her voice even in the little room.
+"Father says the General does not expect this move, but they are getting
+ready down by the Battery. Father says the forts cannot stand a river
+attack."
+
+"But Washington _must_ know this. He never is taken off guard." Andy
+spoke proudly and with assurance.
+
+"Well, any way," said Ruth, "he is preparing for a land attack. It is
+common talk."
+
+"Just a blind!" Andy broke in. But his face was troubled. "However, I
+must get these papers to him, and if I can I will speak to him. It can
+do no harm."
+
+"But you cannot go as you are, Andy."
+
+"How then?"
+
+"Why," Ruth went to the door and dragged in a bundle, "in these!" She
+held up one of her own dresses, a big sunbonnet, and a neat white apron.
+
+"Ruth!" Andy flushed hotly.
+
+"I have sprained my ankle," Ruth explained with an assumed whimper, "and
+poor Hans is about distracted. He is afraid to go peddling alone with
+his secret writ large in both Dutch and English on his foolish face. I
+have told him I will go lame or no lame. Fortunately he is hard of
+hearing and stupid as an owl in broad daylight. You might be less like
+me than you are, and Hans would not know. We have much to be thankful
+for, Andy."
+
+"Ruth, I cannot!"
+
+"Andy, you shall!" They looked into each other's eyes and then because
+they were young and brave, they smiled; smiled above the danger and
+heartache.
+
+[Illustration: "IT TOOK ALL OF ANDY'S COURAGE TO DON THE FEMALE
+ATTIRE."]
+
+"What a girl you are!" laughed Andy.
+
+"Yes, there are few like me," sighed the girl. "Born to trouble as the
+sparks fly upward."
+
+"Born to deliver others from trouble, I verily believe," added Andy.
+
+"Not a moment to spare!" commanded Ruth. "You have eaten a noble meal. I
+must go to my room to suffer now. When Hans bawls from the wagon, be
+ready, and remember the eggs are a shilling more to his majesty's men
+than to Washington's."
+
+It took all Andy's courage to don the female attire. He had never done
+so hard a thing, yet he knew that Ruth was right. If he hoped to reach
+the patriot camp he must not attempt it as Andy McNeal. "Next best
+then," he thought, "is to go as Ruth White. God bless Ruth!"
+
+"Hi!" rose shrilly on the soft evening air, "hi! we starts now!"
+
+It was Hans bellowing from the wagon. Andy plunged into the bonnet,
+whose big, flapping frill almost hid his face. He took his crutch--its
+aid was not to be despised now--and hobbled down-stairs.
+
+"Washington is in the Morris Mansion!" Ruth whispered as he passed her
+door.
+
+Under his sunbonnet Andy turned scarlet, but he did not turn toward
+Ruth.
+
+"There goes our Ruthie to sell eggs," called little Margaret White from
+over her bowl of milk in the kitchen. "Does your leg hurt awful,
+Ruthie?"
+
+Mrs. White at the table did not turn, but she said:
+
+"Take heed, Margaret, your milk is spilling. Ruth is all right." As in
+very truth she was.
+
+"We be late, already," called Hans from his wagon. "Can you get up,
+miss?"
+
+Andy mounted slowly, and crouched behind Hans among the baskets and
+pails. The Dutch boy had but recently come over from Long Island to live
+with the parson. After the battle of Long Island he had fled to what he
+thought were more peaceful pastures for employment; but he had his
+doubts. Dangers pursued Hans, and he was sore distressed. It was
+necessary for him to sell the products of the little farm, and, really,
+the danger of the parson's daughter going along to straighten matters
+out, was no great matter. Peddlers, unless suspected, were allowed to
+pass the lines, and their wares paid for with more or less honesty.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+AT HEADQUARTERS
+
+
+"Your excellency, dar am a lame girl, an a fool Dutchman outside. De
+girl done say, she's got to delibber de eggs to yourself, sah!"
+
+"Eggs!" The tall, anxious man at the table turned sharply. He was
+writing to Congress, and the interruption annoyed him.
+
+"Yas, sah." The colored man bowed humbly. "I'se been tellin' dem we has
+eggs nouf, but the Dutchman he deaf as a stun wall, an' de girl am dat
+sot, dat your own self couldn't be sotter, sah. She done say her folks
+'prived demselfs of food an' drink, sah, to save dese eggs fur your
+excellency, an' she goes on tu say, sah, dat she done been habbin' de
+debbil's own time gettin' past de lines wid de eggs. She's been 'sulted
+by de British and odder hard things. She won't go, sah, till I done tell
+you all dis rubbish."
+
+"Bring her in," quietly said the listener.
+
+Washington never slighted the humble, and, besides, messages were sent
+in odd ways. It was always better to be willing to listen. The black man
+departed, muttering, and presently returned, showing the lame girl in
+with no very good grace.
+
+"Dat am de General!" he explained, shutting the heavy door after the
+limping figure.
+
+There was no need of explanation. The eyes under the drooping frill grew
+joyous at the sight of the honored face. The heart under the coarse
+cotton frock beat high with pride, and--yes, shame, for how was the boy
+to make himself known?
+
+"Pray be seated," the deep voice was saying. "You are weary and you have
+taken chances of danger to reach me with your gift."
+
+Andy sank into the nearest chair.
+
+"I appreciate your devotion and unselfishness, but I would advise no
+future attempts to pass the British lines for such a thing."
+
+"There were other reasons, sir," said Andy. Washington came nearer.
+
+"I fancied so," he said, "and they are?"
+
+Andy drew the basket of eggs to him, and unwrapped several, handing the
+papers to Washington. The General took them, crossed to the window, and
+for a few moments pieced the bits together carefully. Then he read. Andy
+watched him, remembering that other face in the greenhouse on the
+never-to-be-forgotten night.
+
+"Where did you get these?" he said suddenly. Andy stood up leaning upon
+his crutch.
+
+"A messenger, in time of danger, must come as he may, sir," he said,
+bravely. Then tearing off the bonnet he added:
+
+"Andy McNeal, at your service, sir!" Washington's face never betrayed
+him, but a glad look came to the overweary eyes. He extended his hand,
+and grasped Andy's.
+
+"I remember!" he said. "You have been true to your trust. And now for
+the story."
+
+Sitting in the stately room of the mansion, opposite the great General,
+Andy McNeal told his story. Try as he might, his voice would break, but
+he thought no shame of his weakness, for the keen eyes looking into his
+own were often dim.
+
+"I asked a great thing of Nathan Hale," said the General at last, "but
+he gave it willingly. Andy McNeal, you have been a faithful friend to as
+great a hero as the Revolution will ever know. Many offer their lives.
+He offered his honor. Willing was he to die, and to die dishonored by
+the many. Some day his country will understand."
+
+"And, sir, do you know the British are bringing their ships up the
+river?"
+
+Washington's eyes gleamed. "I have sent men to Frog's Point," he smiled.
+"They will meet a welcome when they land. Thank you. And now farewell.
+Take heed as you return. You are safer without a guard."
+
+"Is there no work for me to do? Is there no place in the ranks for such
+as I?"
+
+The tremendous question broke from Andy's lips. To go back into idleness
+was his one dread. He longed to follow; to be the humblest, but most
+patriotic, of the many. Washington understood.
+
+"I must leave here directly," he answered. "Ere another week passes I
+shall be gone. Where future battles are to be fought, remains to be
+seen, but always, my first object is to guard the Hudson. I need
+faithful hearts here. I shall not forget you, Andy McNeal, nor your
+service. If I can use you, be ready. I shall know where to find you. You
+are sure to be more useful here than elsewhere. You know your woods as
+few others do, and I know I can depend upon your courage and
+faithfulness. Again farewell."
+
+Andy arose, drew on the disguising headgear, not even thinking of it, so
+full was his heart, and so he departed to face whatever lay before.
+
+The immediate thing that faced Andy McNeal was the meeting with his own
+father. It took all the courage he possessed to do this, and yet he knew
+that he could not begin to live again until the new complications had
+been grappled with and readjusted.
+
+After dark of the same day upon which Andy had seen Washington, he
+reached his mother's little house. Hans and he had had several
+encounters with the British, but a thickheaded, deaf Dutchman, and a
+young, frightened lame girl, with a hideous bonnet, served only for a
+moment's idle sport for the king's gallant men. And after annoying
+delays they were allowed to pass with a warning to come soon with more
+food, or their houses would be burned over their heads.
+
+Andy paused outside the cottage. He heard his mother moving about, and
+the indistinct voice of a man from the guest-room beyond.
+
+"The vine again!" thought Andy. But the ascent in the gown was
+difficult. "A maid's progress is bitter hard!" smiled he, and he thought
+tenderly of Ruth.
+
+The little loft-room seemed oddly changed to Andy. He looked about.
+Everything was the same, and yet--
+
+"It is that voice below-stairs," muttered he. "It alters everything." A
+feeling of hatred crept in Andy's heart against this man who had
+suddenly assumed so close a relationship to him.
+
+"What will mother do?" he questioned as he changed his clothing, and put
+on the decent Sunday-suit that was hanging from the pegs. "What will
+she do?" And in his heart Andy knew what she would do, what, at least,
+she would want to do. He had seen it shining back of the trouble in her
+eyes when she first spoke to him. The want had brought the look of
+beauty with it, and had banished the marks of the lonely years.
+
+"But a Britisher!" moaned the boy, smoothing his hair, "a Britisher for
+Janie and Andy McNeal! I might forgive him for all else--for mother's
+sake, but not that, not that!"
+
+"Andy, lad, is it you?" Andy started. His mother was coming up the
+stairs!
+
+"Yes, mother." She stood before him now. The coarse cotton gown that was
+familiar to Andy's boyhood was gone. A dull, bluish linen with white
+cuffs and collar had replaced it, and above the becoming dress shone the
+face of a new Janie.
+
+A jealous pang struck Andy's heart, and he shivered in spite of himself.
+
+"I thought I heard you, lad. You are safe?"
+
+"Quite safe, mother."
+
+"But sair tired?" she dropped into the Scotch unconsciously.
+
+"Not overtired. I did my errand well."
+
+"And now, Andy, what next?"
+
+"Nothing. Since I cannot follow and fight, I must bide at home and wait.
+Does any one come here for help from the patriot army we must be ready,
+mother."
+
+"Aye, surely, lad. You know where my heart lies!"
+
+"But, mother, the--the person below. He is--a deserter if he is found
+here. What then? And surely not even he must keep us from doing our
+duty."
+
+"Lad" (Janie came close), "I cannot hope to have you understand. When
+love comes your way, Andy, it will plead for me. All these years--I have
+been a starved and forsaken woman, and it has changed me. We all go
+astray, Andy, and--and your father. Oh! call him that, son, for my sake.
+Your father has dealt sorely with me and you, but he has come back. He
+was hunting us long before he found us. He wants to mend the past. Andy,
+as we hope for mercy from the good God, let us be merciful."
+
+"But a Britisher, mother. An enemy to our cause. Oh, mother!"
+
+"Andy, lad, come!" She put out her hand pleadingly, and Andy followed.
+There was a candle burning in the guest-room, and by its modest gleam
+sat the man who, when Andy had seen him last, was proclaiming his own
+son to be the rebel who had presumably struck one of the king's men in
+the cave. Very pale was the man now, and the bruise on the forehead
+shone plain even in the dim light. He looked up at Andy in a curious,
+interested way, and half extended his hand.
+
+"You do not care to take the hand of a Britisher, I see." The white face
+relaxed in a faint smile. Andy went nearer.
+
+"For my mother's sake I can take my--my father's hand, though it all
+seems mighty queer."
+
+"I want you to know," said the man, "that I would not have told my head
+officer who you were that day, but I was so alarmed at the likeness you
+bore my mother that I was unaware of what I was doing. It was horrible
+to realize as I was beginning to do then, that I was probably speaking
+to my own--son."
+
+"It was more horrible to think that my own father had been struck by a
+blow dealt in my defense. You must have thought that, too."
+
+"No, I did not. Who struck that blow?"
+
+"Nathan Hale."
+
+The man started. "And he?"
+
+"Died the death of a spy two days ago."
+
+"Andy!" It was Janie who cried out. "Was our dear schoolmaster, Nathan
+Hale, the spy?"
+
+"Nathan Hale, the patriot!" corrected Andy, and his eyes dimmed.
+
+"Oh! how you have suffered, lad."
+
+"Aye." Andy sank into a chair.
+
+His father was looking at him keenly; and a growing expression of
+admiration was dawning in the searching eyes. Here was a son of whom he
+might yet be proud.
+
+"Andy," he said, "I can imagine your feeling toward me. I do not say I
+do not deserve it. But your mother is willing to forgive the past, if
+you are willing to give me a trial." The thin lips twitched. Martin was
+a proud man, and his humble diet seemed never to be coming to an end.
+The hard young face opposite appeared more unrelenting than Janie's had
+seemed.
+
+"What is best for mother is best for me," said Andy. "I am almost a man.
+When the war is over I shall try to do a man's part in the world. Each
+one of us has his life."
+
+Martin again became serious. "I have money, Andy; I can help you, and
+give you a fair start."
+
+"Your money will make mother's life easier. It has been a hard life."
+
+"There, there, Andy, lad! Do not be bitter, son."
+
+"Not bitter, mother. But I cannot forget. Not just at first."
+
+"I can educate you, Andy," Martin added. "You might take that help from
+a stranger, and repay it later on."
+
+A hungry look came into the boy's eyes. The teaching of the master had
+awakened an appetite that would not sleep. "I did without for many
+years," he replied. But Martin had seen the gleam, and was proud.
+
+"In a day or so, Andy," he went on, "I must ask a favor of you. I want
+you to guide me to the patriot headquarters." The boy started. "I came
+half-heartedly to fight against the colonies. It is my desire to throw
+my lot in with theirs now. You may be able to do me a favor with your
+General. He will know you. If I come back you may be able to respect
+your father. If not--your mother has a good son, and Parson White will
+see that what belongs to you two will be yours."
+
+"Father!" Andy arose, and this time stretched forth his hand gladly.
+"Father, I will try to be a good son to you, too!"
+
+"Thank God!" sobbed Janie, kneeling by the chair, and drawing Andy
+within the circle of her new hopes.
+
+The old clock ticked and ticked contentedly. The hissing of the kettle
+on the fire recalled Janie to her happy tasks, and Martin and his son
+wondered what the future would bring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+PEACE
+
+
+"Only the cane now, Andy. The days of crutches are over!"
+
+"Yes, Ruth, the country, the dear free country and I can nearly go alone
+now." Andy stood up proudly and beamed upon the pretty girl standing by
+his mother.
+
+"I declare!" he laughed, "you look but little older than Ruth, mother!"
+
+"Box his ears well, lass," said Janie, mightily pleased. "He struts,
+does Andy, and you and I must take him down."
+
+"Come," Andy broke in, "we must start now. Wrap up well, girls," he
+laughed again, "'tis bitter cold, and the way is long."
+
+"No cold can reach me!" cried Janie, pulling her hood well over her
+happy face. "Warm hearts make glowing bodies. To think, lad, he will be
+with us to-night!"
+
+The door of the little house was drawn to and locked. All within was
+beautiful and ready for the patriot who that night would return full of
+honors for the part he had played during the last two years.
+
+"Yes. He will be with us, mother," echoed Andy. He looked at Ruth. He
+had learned to understand his mother now, and Ruth had shown him the
+way.
+
+"It was no light matter," said the girl, keeping step with Andy over the
+crisp snow, "for you--your father to be a patriot. He was not only a
+patriot but a deserter from the king's army. In every battle he had to
+face that."
+
+"Yes," broke in Janie, "and when he went with Wayne to storm Stony
+Point, he was nearly captured, as you will remember. And the British
+yelled at him, 'Don't shoot that deserter, lead's too good for him.
+We'll try an Indian trick on him!'"
+
+Andy's face grew grave. "He's a brave man," he whispered, and drew
+Janie's arm within his own. And so the little party came to Fraunce's
+Tavern, and bided near the room in which Washington and his officers
+were dining before the General departed for Annapolis, where he was to
+lay down his commission, for the war was over, and peace had come to the
+young country.
+
+"Andy," said Janie, closing the door of the small room which had been
+reserved for them, "'twas great luck that my host's wife and I are
+friends. Think of us having this to ourselves, and the great General
+right in the next room. Ruth, lass, there is a communicating door, as
+true as I live! Andy, draw away the sofa."
+
+"Mother, you would not be an eavesdropper?"
+
+"God forbid! Ruthie, is there a keyhole?"
+
+"No keyhole, but a good generous crack in the panel! Hurry, Andy, with
+the sofa, the thing weighs a ton. Push!"
+
+"Ruth! We cannot spy upon the General." Andy tried to look severe.
+
+"I can!" laughed the girl, mounting the sofa, and applying her eye to
+the crack. "I'm afraid the Revolution has demoralized me, but I must see
+the thing through. Andy, they look--they look magnificent!" Ruth was
+quivering on her perch. Janie flung prudence and dignity to the winds,
+and climbed to Ruth's side, and, being taller, gained a portion of the
+crack above the girl's head.
+
+"I can see no one but the General!" she said. "The crack is over-narrow
+for such doings!"
+
+"There is no one but Washington!" breathed Andy, and he lifted his head
+proudly.
+
+"Yes, there are others," whispered Ruth, misunderstanding, "and if you
+run your eye up and down the crack quickly, you can catch a sight of
+them. The crack is wider in some parts."
+
+"Heaven save us, lass!" (Ruth's head had come in violent contact with
+Janie's chin). "You have loosened my teeth!"
+
+"They are going to drink a toast!" said Ruth, not heeding the accident,
+but thrilling with excitement. "Andy, 'tis no wrong we are doing. The
+General's voice can be heard distinctly, and I vow there are a dozen
+heads at every window opening on the porch. The crack is fine down here.
+I can see everything!"
+
+Andy stood still.
+
+"He is raising his glass!" said Ruth near the floor.
+
+"With my heart full of love and gratitude I now take leave of you all.
+Most devoutly wishing that your latter days may be as prosperous and
+happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable."
+
+"His eyes are full of tears!" almost sobbed Ruth, and the eyes of them
+in the little room were dim. Glasses clinked together, then the full
+voice went on:
+
+"I cannot come to each one of you and take my leave, but I shall be
+obliged if you will come and take my hand." They needed no second
+bidding those comrades, tried and true. One by one, feeling no shame in
+their manly show of sorrow, they grasped their General's faithful hand
+and parted from him with bowed heads.
+
+"They are going out!" panted Janie. "Now, Andy, for the hall. We must
+meet him at the door."
+
+As he came from the banquet room, Washington and his officers met the
+three. He knew Andy at a glance, and then recognized Janie. He took
+them by the hand, and bowed in courtly fashion.
+
+"Patriots all!" he smiled. "You well deserve your hard-earned peace."
+
+They joined the throngs which followed Washington to the river. They
+stood upon the Battery until the barge which bore the gallant figure
+away faded from sight. So lost were they in admiration that for a moment
+none of them noticed a tall figure approaching dressed in Continental
+uniform. Then Janie saw him. Her face flushed like a girl's.
+
+"Andy!" she whispered, pulling her son's sleeve, "see, here is your--"
+
+"Father!" greeted Andy, and stretched out a welcoming hand.
+
+Back to the lonely pass the four went, Janie and Martin on ahead.
+
+"And now," questioned Ruth in a soft whisper, "what comes next, Andy?"
+
+"I am to study. Ah! Ruth, how I shall study! I mean to learn all that I
+can and carry the best to them who call me."
+
+"You really mean to be a minister?"
+
+"That I do, God willing!" answered Andy, reverently.
+
+"'Tis a hard life, Andy."
+
+"For that I love it."
+
+"Have you thought where you would like to go?"
+
+"Just where the most urgent call comes. Ruth, the life is hard--"
+
+"I know the life, Andy, and love it!"
+
+"Could you--could you, Ruth?"
+
+"Keep on living it? Yes, dear. Who so well fitted as I?"
+
+They paused on the snowy path, and looked into each other's brave eyes.
+
+"I wonder if any life is really hard, dear Ruth, where--"
+
+"Love lifts the burden? I think not, Andy. Love bears the weight. We
+take the glory. It is a wonderful thing."
+
+The red glow of the winter sunset seemed to warm the snow-covered earth,
+and in the still beauty the two followed Janie and Martin.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Then Marched the Brave, by Harriet T. Comstock
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