The Hidden Children Page 4

  CHAPTER III

  VIEW HALLOO!

  It rained, rained, rained, and the darkness and wind combined with theuproar of the storm to make venturing abroad well nigh impossible. Yet,an orderly, riding at hazard, managed to come up with a hundred of theContinental foot, convoying the train, and, turning them in theirslopping tracks, start back with them through a road running shin-highin mud and water.

  Messengers, also, were dispatched to call out the district militia, andthey plodded all night with their lanterns, over field and path andlonely country road.

  As for Colonel Sheldon, booted, sashed, and helmeted, he sat apatheticand inert in the hall, obstinately refusing to mount his men.

  "For," says he, "it will only soak their powder and their skins, andnobody but a fool would ride hither in such a storm. And Tarleton is nofool, nor am I, either; and that's flat!" It was not as flat as his ownforehead.

  "Do you mean that I am a fool to march my men back here fromLewisboro?" demanded Colonel Thomas sharply, making to rise from hisseat by the empty fireplace.

  Duels had sprung from less provocation than had been given by ColonelSheldon. Mr. Hunt very mildly interposed; and a painful scene wasnarrowly averted because of Colonel Thomas's cold contempt for Sheldon,which I think Captain Fancher shared.

  Major Lockwood, coming in at the moment, flung aside his drippingriding cloak.

  "Sir," said he to Sheldon, "the rumour that the Legion is abroad hasreached your men, and they are saddling in my barns."

  "What damned nonsense!" exclaimed Sheldon, in a pet; and, rising,strode heavily to the door, but met there his Major, one BenjaminTallmadge, coming in, all over mud.

  This fiery young dragoon's plume, helmet, and cloak were dripping, andhe impatiently dashed the water from feathers and folds.

  "Sir!" began Colonel Sheldon loudly, "I have as yet given no order tosaddle!"

  And, "By God, sir," says Tallmadge, "the orders must have come fromsomebody, for they're doing it!"

  "Sir--sir!" stammered Sheldon, "What d'ye mean by that?"

  "Ah!" says Tallmadge coolly, "I mean what I say. Orders must have beengiven by somebody."

  No doubt; for the orders came from himself, the clever trooper that hewas--and so he left Sheldon a-fuming and Major Lockwood and Mr. Huntmost earnestly persuading him to sanction this common and simpleprecaution.

  Why he conducted so stupidly I never knew. It required all the gentlecomposure of Mr. Hunt and all the vigorous logic of Major Lockwood toprevent him from ordering his men to off-saddle and retire to the strawabove the mangers.

  Major Tallmadge and a cornet passed through the hall with theirregimental standard, but Sheldon pettishly bade them to place it in theparlour and await further orders--for no reason whatever, apparently,save to exhibit a petty tyranny.

  And all the while a very forest of candles remained lighted throughoutthe house; only the little children were asleep; the family servantsand slaves remained awake, not daring to go to bed or even to closetheir eyes to all these rumours and uncertainties.

  Colonel Thomas, his iron-grey head sunk on his breast, paced the hall,awaiting the arrival of the two escort companies of his command, yetscarcely hoping for such good fortune, I think, for his keen eyesencountered mine from time to time, and he made me gestures expressiveof angry resignation.

  As for Sheldon, he pouted and sulked on a sofa, and drank mulled wine,peevishly assuring everybody who cared to listen that no attack was tobe apprehended in such a storm, and that Colonel Tarleton and his mennow lay snug abed in New York town, a-grinning in their dreams.

  A few drenched and woe-begone militia men, the pans of their musketswrapped in rags, reported, and were taken in charge by Captain Fancheras a cattle guard for Major Lockwood's herd.

  None of Major Lockwood's messengers were yet returned. Our rifleman hadsaddled our own horses, and had brought them up under one of a row ofsheds which had recently been erected near the house. A pair of smokylanterns hung under the dripping rafters; and by their light Iperceived the fine horses of Major Lockwood, and of Colonels Sheldonand Thomas also, standing near ours, bridled and saddled and held byslaves.

  Mrs. Lockwood sat near the parlour door, quietly sewing, but from timeto time I saw her raise her eyes and watch her husband. Doubtless shewas thinking of those forty golden guineas which were to be paid forthe delivery of his head--perhaps she was thinking of BloodyCunningham, and the Provost, and the noose that dangled in a paintedpagoda betwixt the almshouse and the jail in that accursed British citysouth of us.

  Mrs. Hunt had far less to fear for her quiet lord and master, whocombatted the lower party only with his brains. So she found moreleisure to listen to Boyd's whispered fooleries, and to caution himwith lifted finger, glancing at him sideways; and I saw her bite herlips at times to hide the smile, and tap her slender foot, and bendcloser over her tabouret while her needle flew the faster.

  As for me, my Sagamore had not arrived; and I finally cast a cloakabout me and went out to the horse-sheds, where our rifleman lolled,chewing a lump of spruce and holding our three horses.

  "Well, Jack," said I, "this is rare weather for Colonel Tarleton's foxhunting."

  "They say he hunts an ass, sir, too," said Jack Mount under his breath."And I think it must be so, for there be five score of ColonelSheldon's dragoons in yonder barns, drawing at jack-straws or conningtheir thumbs--and not a vidette out--not so much as a militia picket,save for the minute men which Colonel Thomas and Major Lockwood havesent out afoot."

  There was a certain freedom in our corps, but it never warranted suchimpudent presumption as this; and I sharply rebuked the huge fellow forhis implied disrespect toward Colonel Sheldon.

  "Very well, sir. I will bite off this unmilitary tongue o' mine andfeed it to your horse. Then, sir, if you but ask him, he will tell youvery plainly that none of his four-footed comrades in the barn havecarried a single vidette on their backs even as far as Poundridgevillage, let alone Mile-Square."

  I could scarcely avoid smiling.

  "Do you then, for one, believe that Colonel Tarleton will ventureabroad on such a night?"

  "I believe as you do," said the rifleman coolly, "--being some threeyears or more a soldier of my country."

  "Oh! And what do I believe, Jack?"

  "Being an officer who commands as good a soldier as I am, you, sir,believe as I do."

  I was obliged to laugh.

  "Well, Jack--so you agree with me that the Legion Cavalry is out?"

  "It is as sure that nested snake's eggs never hatched out rattlers asit is certain that this wild night will hatch out Tarleton!"

  "And why is it so certain in your mind, Jack Mount?"

  "Lord, Mr. Loskiel," he said with a lazy laugh, "you know how Mr. Boydwould conduct were he this same Major Tarleton! You know what MajorParr would do--and what you and I and every officer and every man ofMorgan's corps would do on such a night to men of Sheldon's kidney!"

  "You mean the unexpected."

  "Yes, sir. And this red fox on horseback, Tarleton, has ever done thesame, and will continue till we stop his loping with a bit o' lead."

  I nodded and looked out into the rain-swept darkness. And I knew thatour videttes should long since have been set far out on every roadtwixt here and Bedford village.

  Captain Fancher passed with a lantern, and I ventured to accost him andmention very modestly my present misgivings concerning our presentsituation.

  "Sir," said the Captain, dryly, "I am more concerned in this matterthan are you; and I have taken it upon myself to protest to MajorTallmadge, who is at this moment gone once more to Colonel Sheldon withvery serious representations."

  "Lieutenant Boyd and I have volunteered as a scout of three," I said,"but Colonel Sheldon has declined our services with scant politeness."

  Fancher stood far a moment, his rain-smeared lantern hanging motionlessat his side.

  "Tarleton may not ride tonight," he said, and moved off a step or two;then, turning: "But
, damn him, I think he will," said he. And walkedaway, swinging his light as furiously as a panther thrashes his tail.

  By the pointers of my watch it now approached three o'clock in themorning, and the storm was nothing abating. I had entirely despaired ofthe Sagamore's coming, and was beginning to consider the sorry picklewhich this alarm must leave us in if Tarleton's Legion came upon usnow; and that with our widely scattered handfuls we could only pullfoot and await another day to find our Sagamore; when, of a suddenthere came a-creeping through the darkness, out o' the very maw of thestorm, a slender shape, wrapped to the eyes in a ragged scarlet cape. Iknew her; but I do not know how I knew her.

  "It is you!" I exclaimed, hastening forward to draw her under shelter.

  She came obediently with me, slipping in between the lanterns and amongthe horses, moving silently at my elbow to the farther shed, which wasempty.

  "You use me very kindly," I said, "to venture abroad tonight on mybehalf."

  "I am abroad," she said, "on behalf of my country."

  Only her eyes I could see over the edge of the scarlet cloak, and theyregarded me very coldly.

  "I meant it so," I said hastily, "What of the Sagamore? Will he come?"

  "He will come as I promised you."

  "Here?" I said, delighted. "This very night?"

  "Yes, here, this night."

  "How good--how generous you have been!" I exclaimed with a warmth andsincerity that invaded every fibre of me. "And have you come throughthis wild storm all the long way afoot?"

  "Yes," she said, calmly, "afoot. Since when, sir, have beggars riddento a tryst except in pretty fables?"

  "Had I known it, I would have taken horse and gone for you and broughtyou here riding pillion behind me."

  "Had I desired you to come for me, Mr. Loskiel, I should not havetroubled you here."

  She loosened the shabby scarlet cloak so that it dropped from below hereyes and left the features exposed. Enough of lantern light from theother shed fell on her face for me to see her smooth, cool cheeks alldewy with the rain, as I had seen them once before in the gloom of thecoming storm.

  She turned her head, glancing back at the other shed where men andhorses stood in grotesque shadow shapes under the windy lantern light;then she looked cautiously around the shed where we stood.

  "Come nearer," she motioned.

  And once again, as before, my nearness to her seemed for a moment tomeddle with my heart and check it; then, as though to gain the beatsthey lost, every little pulse began to hurry faster.

  She said in a low voice:

  "The Sagamore is now closeted with Major Lockwood. I left him at theporch and came out here to warn you. Best go to him now, sir. And Iwill bid you a--good night."

  "Has he business also with Major Lockwood?"

  "He has indeed. You will learn presently that the Sagamore came byNorth Castle, and that the roads south of the church are full ofriders--hundreds of them--in jack-boots and helmets."

  "Were their jackets red?"

  "He could not tell. They were too closely cloaked,"

  "Colonel Moylan's dragoons?" I said anxiously. "Do you think so?"

  "The Sagamore did not think so, and dared not ask, but startedinstantly cross-country with the information. I had been waiting tointercept him and bring him here to you, as I promised you, but missedhim on the Bedford road, where he should have passed. Therefore, Ihastened hither to confess to you my failure, and chanced to overtakehim but a moment since, as he crossed the dooryard yonder."

  Even in my growing anxiety, I was conscious of the faithfulness thatthis poor girl had displayed--this ragged child who had stood in thestorm all night long on the Bedford road to intercept the Indian.Faithful, indeed! For, having missed him, she had made her way here onfoot merely to tell me that she could not keep her word to me.

  "Has the Sagamore spoken with Colonel Sheldon?" I asked gently.

  "I do not know."

  "Will you tarry here till I return?"

  "Have you further use of me, Mr. Loskiel?"

  Her direct simplicity checked me. After all, now that she had done hererrand, what further use had I for her? I did not even know why I hadasked her to tarry here until my return; and searched my mind seekingthe reason. For it must have been that I had some good reason in mymind.

  "Why, yes," I said, scarce knowing why, "I have further use for you.Tarry for a moment and I shall return. And," I added mentally, "by thattime I shall have discovered the reason."

  She said nothing; I hastened back to the house, where even from theoutside I could hear the loud voice of Sheldon vowing that if what thisIndian said were true, the cavalry he had discovered at North Castlemust be Moylan's and no other.

  I entered and listened a moment to Major Lockwood, urging thisobstinate man to send out his patrols; then I walked over to the windowwhere Boyd stood in whispered consultation with an Indian.

  The savage towered at least six feet in his soaking moccasins; he woreneither lock nor plume, nor paint of any kind that I could see, carriedneither gun nor blanket, nor even a hatchet. There was only a heavyknife at the beaded girdle, which belted his hunting shirt and breechesof muddy tow-cloth.

  As I approached them, the Mohican turned his head and shot a searchingglance at me. Boyd said:

  "This is the great Sagamore, Mayaro, Mr. Loskiel; and I have attemptedto persuade him to come north with us tomorrow. Perhaps your eloquencewill succeed where my plain speech has failed." And to the tallSagamore he said: "My brother, this is Ensign Loskiel, of ColonelMorgan's command--my comrade and good friend. What this man's lips tellyou has first been taught them by his heart. Squirrels chatter, brooksbabble, and the tongues of the Iroquois are split. But this is a man,Sagamore, such as are few among men. For he lies not even to women."And though his countenance was very grave, I saw his eyes laughing atme.

  The Indian made no movement until I held out my hand. Then his sinewyfingers touched mine, warily at first, like the exploring antennae of anervous butterfly. And presently his steady gaze began to disturb me.

  "Does my brother the Sagamore believe he has seen me somewhereheretofore?" I asked, smilingly. "Perhaps it may have been so--atJohnson Hall--or at Guy Park, perhaps, where came many chiefs andsachems and Sagamores in the great days of the great Sir William--thedays that are no more, O Sagamore!"

  And: "My brother's given name?" inquired the savage bluntly.

  "Euan--Euan Loskiel, once of the family of Guy Johnson, but now, forthese three long battle years, officer in Colonel Morgan's regiment," Isaid. "Has the wise Sagamore ever seen me before this moment?"

  The savage's eyes wavered, then sought the floor.

  "Mayaro has forgotten," he replied very quietly, using the Delawarephrase--a tongue of which I scarcely understood a word. But I knew hehad seen me somewhere, and preferred not to admit it. Indian caution,thought I, and I said:

  "Is my brother Siwanois or Mohican?"

  A cunning expression came into his features:

  "If a Siwanois marries a Mohican woman, of what nation are thechildren, my new brother, Loskiel?"

  "Mohican," I said in surprise,--"or so it is among the Iroquois," andthe next moment could have bitten off my tongue for vexation that Ishould have so clumsily reminded a Sagamore of a subject nation of hisservitude, by assuming that the Lenni-Lenape had conformed even to theracial customs of their conquerors.

  The hot flush now staining my face did not escape him, and what hethought of my stupid answer to him or of my embarrassment, I did notknow. His calm countenance had not altered--not even had his eyeschanged, which features are quickest to alter when Indians betrayemotion.

  I said in a mortified voice:

  "The Siwanois Sagamore will believe that his new brother, Loskiel,meant no offense." And I saw that the compliment had told.

  "Mayaro has heard," he said, without the slightest emphasis ofresentment. Then, proudly and delicately yielding me reason, anddrawing his superb figure to its full and stately height:
"When aMohican Sagamore listens, all Algonquins listen, and the Siwanois clangrow silent in the still places. When a real man speaks, real menlisten with respect. Only the Canienga continue to chirp and chatter;only the Long House is full of squirrel sounds and the noise of jays."His lip curled contemptuously. "Let the echoes of the Long House answerthe Kanonsis. Mayaro's ears are open."

  Boyd, with a triumphant glance at me, said eagerly:

  "Is not this hour the hour for the great Siwanois clan of theLenni-Lenape to bid defiance to the Iroquois? Is it not time that theMohawks listen to the reading of those ancient belts, and count theirdishonoured dead with brookside pebbles from the headwaters of theSacandaga to the Delaware Capes?"

  "Can squirrels count?" retorted Mayaro disdainfully. "Does my whitebrother understand what the blue-jays say one to another in theyellowing October woods? Not in the Kanonsis, nor yet in theKanonsionni may the Mohicans read to the Mohawks the ancient wampumrecords. The Lenni-Lenape are Algonquin, not Huron-Iroquois. Let thosedegraded Delawares who still sit in the Long House count their whitebelts while, from both doors of the Confederacy, Seneca and Mohawkbelt-bearers hurl their red wampum to the four corners of the world."

  "The Mohicans, while they wait, may read of glory and great deeds," Isaid, "but the belts in their hands are not white. How can this be, mybrother?"

  The Sagamore's eyes flashed:

  "The belts we remember are red!" he said. "We Mohicans have neverunderstood Iroquois wampum. Let the Lenape of the Kansonsionni bearIroquois belts!"

  "In the Long House," said I, "the light is dim. Perhaps the Canienga'sambassadors can no longer perceive the red belts in the archives of theLenape."

  It had so far been a careful and cautious exchange of subtlest metaphorbetween this proud and sensitive Mohican and me; I striving to win himto our cause by recalling the ancient greatness and the proud freedomof his tribe, yet most carefully avoiding undue pressure or any directappeal for an immediate answer to Boyd's request. But already I had sothoroughly prepared the ground; and the Sagamore's responses had beenso encouraging, that the time seemed to have come to put the direct andfinal question. And now, to avoid the traditional twenty-four hours'delay which an Indian invariably believes is due his own dignity beforereplying to a vitally important demand, I boldly cast precedent andcustom to the four winds, and once more seized on allegory to aid me inthis hour of instant need.

  I began by saluting him with the most insidious and stately complimentI could possibly offer to a Sagamore of a conquered race--a race whichalready was nearly extinct--investing this Mohican Sagamore with theprerogatives of his very conquerors by the subtlety of my openingphrase:

  "O Sagamore! Roya-neh! Noble of the three free clans of a free Mohicanpeople! Our people have need of you. The path is dark toCatharines-town. Terror haunts those frightful shades. Roya-nef! Weneed you!

  "Brother! Is there occasion for belts between us to confirm a brother'swords, when this leathern girth I wear around my body carries a redwampum which all may see and read--my war axe and my knife?"

  I raised my right arm slowly, and drew with my forefinger a greatcircle in the air around us:

  "Brother! Listen attentively! Since a Sagamore has read the belt Iyesterday delivered, the day-sun has circled us where we now stand. Itis another day, O Roya-neh! In yonder fireplace new ashes whiten, newembers redden. We have slept (touching my eyelids and then laying myright hand lightly over his); we have eaten (again touching his lipsand then my own); and now--now here--now, in this place and on thisday, I have returned to the Mohican fire--the Fire of Tamanund! Now Iam seated (touching both knees). Now my ears are open. Let the Sagamoreof the Mohicans answer my belt delivered! I have spoken, O Roya-neh!"

  For a full five minutes of intense silence I knew that my bold appealwas being balanced in the scales by one of a people to whom traditionis a religion. One scale was weighted with the immemorial customs andusages of a great and proud people; the other with a white man's subtleand flattering recognition of these customs, conveyed in metaphor,which all Indians adore, and appealing to imagination--an appeal towhich no Huron, no Iroquois, no Algonquin, is ever deaf.

  In the breathless silence of suspense the irritable, high-pitched voiceof Colonel Sheldon came to my ears. It seemed that after all he hadsent out a few troopers and that one had just returned to report alarge body of horsemen which had passed the Bedford road at a gallop,apparently headed for Ridgefield. But I scarcely noted what was beingdiscussed in the further end of the hall, so intent was I on theSagamore's reply--if, indeed, he meant to answer me at all. I couldeven feel Boyd's body quivering with suppressed excitement as ourelbows chanced to come in contact; as for me, I scarce made out tocontrol myself at all, and any nether lip was nearly bitten through erethe Mohican lifted his symmetrical head and looked me full and honestlyin the eyes.

  "Brother," he said, in a curiously hushed voice, "on this day I come toyou here, at this fire, to acquaint you with my answer; answering mybrother's words of yesterday."

  I could hear Boyd's deep breath of profound relief. "Thank God!" Ithought.

  The Sagamore spoke again, very quietly:

  "Brother, the road is dark to Catharines-town. There are no starsthere, no moon, no sun--only a bloody mist in the forest. For to thatdreadful empire of the Iroquois only blind trails lead. And from themghosts of the Long House arise and stand. Only a thick darkness isthere--an endless gloom to which the Mohican hatchets long, long agodispatched the severed souls they struck! In every trail they stand,these ghosts of the Kanonsi, Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga--ghosts of theTuscarora. The Mohawk beasts who wear the guise of men are there.Mayaro spits upon them! And upon their League! And upon their Atotarhothe Siwanois spit!"

  Suddenly his arm shot out and he grasped the hilt of my knife, drew itfrom my belt, and then slowly returned it. I drew his knife andrendered it again.

  "Brother," he said, "I have this day heard your voice coming to me outof the Northland! I have read the message on the belt you bore andwear; your voice has not lied to my ears; your message is clear asrunning springs to my eyes. I can see through to their pleasant depths.No snake lies hidden under them. So now--now, I say--if my brother'ssight is dimmed on the trail to Catharines-town, Mayaro will teach himhow to see under the night-sun as owls see, so that behind us, thesteps of many men shall not stumble, and the darkness of the Long Houseshall become redder than dawn, lighted by the flames of a thousandrifles!

  "Brother! A Sagamore never lies. I have drawn my brother's knife!Brother, I have spoken!"

  And so it was done in that house and in the dark of dawn. Boyd silentlygave him his hands, and so did I; then Boyd led him aside with a slightmotion of dismissal to me.

  As I walked toward the front door, which was now striding open, I sawMajor Tallmadge go out ahead of me, run to the mounting-block, andclimb into his saddle. Colonel Sheldon followed him to the doorway, andcalled after him:

  "Take a dozen men with you, and meet Colonel Moylan! A dozen will besufficient, Major!"

  Then he turned back into the house, saying to Major Lockwood and Mr.Hunt he was positive that the large body of dragoons in rapid motion,which had been seen and reported by one of our videttes a few minutessince, could be no other than Moylan's expected regiment; and that hewould mount his own men presently and draw them up in front of theMeeting House.

  The rain had now nearly ceased; a cloudy, greyish horizon becamevisible, and the dim light spreading from a watery sky made objectsdimly discernible out of doors.

  I hastened back to the shed where I had left the strange maid swathedin her scarlet cape; and found her there, slowly pacing the trampledsod before it.

  As I came up with her, she said:

  "Why are the light dragoons riding on the Bedford road? Is aught amiss?"

  "A very large body of horse has passed our videttes, making towardRidgefield. Colonel Sheldon thinks it must be Moylan's regiment."

  "Do you?"

  "It may be so."

&n
bsp; "And if it be the leather-caps?"

  "Then we must find ourselves in a sorry pickle."

  As I spoke, the little bugle-horn of Sheldon's Horse blew boots andsaddles, and four score dragoons scrambled into their saddles down bythe barns, and came riding up the sloppy road, their horses slippingbadly and floundering through the puddles and across the stream, where,led by a captain, the whole troop took the Meeting House road at astiff canter.

  We watched them out of sight, then she said:

  "I have awaited your pleasure, Mr. Loskiel. Pray, in what furthermanner can I be of service to--my country?"

  "I have come back to tell you," said I, "that you can be of no furtheruse. Our errand to the Sagamore has now ended, and most happily. Youhave served your country better than you can ever understand. I havecome to say so, and to thank you with--with a heart--very full."

  "Have I then done well?" she asked slowly.

  "Indeed you have!" I replied, with such a warmth of feeling that itsurprised myself.

  "Then why may I not understand this thing that I have done--for mycountry?"

  "I wish I might tell you."

  "May you not?"

  "No, I dare not."

  She bit her lip, gazing at nothing over the ragged collar of her cape,and stood so, musing. And after a while she seemed to come to herself,wearily, and she cast a tragic upward glance at me. Then, dropping hereyes, and with the slightest inclination of her head, not looking at meat all, she started across the trampled grass.

  "Wait----" I was by her side again in the same breath.

  "Well, sir?" And she confronted me with cool mien and lifted brows.Under them her grey eyes hinted of a disdain which I had seen in themmore than once.

  "May I not suitably express my gratitude to you?" I said.

  "You have already done so."

  "I have tried to do so properly, but it is not easy for me to say howgrateful to you we men of the Northland are--how deeply we must everremain in your debt. Yet--I will attempt to express our thanks--if youcare to listen."

  After a pause: "Then--if there is nothing more to say--"

  "There is, I tell you. Will you not listen?"

  "I have been thanked--suitably.... I will say adieu, sir."

  "Would you--would you so far favour me as to make known to me yourname?" I said, stammering a little.

  "Lois is my name," she said indifferently.

  "No more than that?"

  "No more than that."

  How it was now going with me I did not clearly understand, but itappeared to be my instinct not to let her slip away into the worldwithout something more friendly said--some truer gratitudeexpressed--some warmth.

  "Lois," I said very gravely, "what we Americans give to our countrydemands no ignoble reward. Therefore, I offer none of any sort. Yet,because you have been a good comrade to me--and because now we areabout to go our different ways into the world before us--I ask of youtwo things. May I do so?"

  After a moment, looking away from me across the meadow:

  "Ask," she said.

  "Then the first is--will you take my hand in adieu--and let us part asgood soldiers part?"

  Still gazing absently across the meadow, she extended her hand. Iretained it for a moment, then released it. Her arm fell inert by herside, but mine tingled to the shoulder.

  "And one more thing," I said, while this strange and curious reluctanceto let her go was now steadily invading me.

  "Yes?"

  "Will you wear a comrade's token--in memory of an hour or two with him?"

  "What!"

  She spoke with a quick intake of breath and her grey eyes were on menow, piercing me to the roots of speech and motive.

  I wore a heavy ring beaten out of gold; Guy Johnson gave it. This Itook from my trembling finger, scarce knowing why I was doing it atall, and stooping and lifting her little, wind-roughened hand, put iton the first finger I encountered--blindly, now, and clumsily past allbelief, my hand was shaking so absurdly.

  If my face were now as red as it was hot, hers, on the contrary, hadbecome very strange and still and white. For a moment I seemed to readdistrust, scorn, even hatred, in her level stare, and something offear, too, in every quickening breath that moved the scarlet mantle onher breast. Then, in a flash, she had turned her back on me and wasstanding there in the grey dawn, with both hands over her face,straight and still as a young pine. But my ring was shining on herfinger.

  Emotion of a nature to which I was an utter stranger was meddling withmy breath and pulses, now checking, now speeding both so that I stoodwith mind disconcerted in a silly sort of daze.

  At length I gathered sufficient composure to step to her side again.

  "Once more, little comrade, good-bye," I said. "This ends it all."

  Again she turned her shoulder to me, but I heard her low reply:

  "Good-bye--Mr. Loskiel."

  And so it ended.

  A moment later I found myself walking aimlessly across the grass in noparticular direction. Three times I turned in my tracks to watch her.Then she disappeared beyond the brookside willows.

  I remember now that I had turned and was walking slowly back to whereour horses stood, moving listlessly through the freshly mowed meadowbetween drenched haystacks--the first I had seen that year--and Godalone knows where were my thoughts a-gypsying, when, very far away, Iheard a gun-shot.

  At first I could perceive nothing, then on the distant Bedford road Isaw one of our dragoons running his horse and bending low in his saddle.

  Another dragoon appeared, riding a diable--and a dozen more behindthese; and on their heels a-galloping, a great body of red-jacketedhorsemen--hundreds of them--the foremost shooting from their saddles,the great mass of them swinging their heavy cutlasses and spurringfuriously after our flying men.

  I had seen far more than was necessary, and I ran for my horse. Otherofficers came running, too--Sheldon, Thomas, Lockwood, and myLieutenant Boyd.

  As we clutched bridle and stirrup and popped upward into out saddles,it seemed that the red-coats must cut us off, but we spurred out of themeadow into the Meeting House road, and Boyd cried furiously in my ear:

  "See what this damned Sheldon has done for us now! God! What disgraceis ours!"

  I saw Colonel Sheldon presently, pale as death, and heard him exclaim:

  "Oh, Christ! I shall be broke for this! I shall be broke!"

  I made out to say to Boyd:

  "The enemy are coming in hundreds, sir, and we have scarce four scoremen mounted by the Meeting House."

  "They'll never stand, either," he panted. "But if they do we'll seethis matter to an end."

  "Our orders?" I asked.

  "Damn our orders," said he. "We'll see this matter to an end."

  We rode hard, but already some of Tallmadge's terror-stricken patrolwere overhauling us, and the clangor of the British cavalry brokelouder and louder on our ears as we came in sight of the Meeting House.Sheldon's four score troopers heard the uproar of the coming storm,wavered, broke, and whirled their horses about into a most disorderlyflight along the Stamford road. Everybody ran--there was no otherchoice for officers and men--and close on our heels came pelting the17th British Dragoons, the Hussars, and Mounted Yagers of the Legion;and behind these galloped their mounted infantry.

  A mad anxiety to get away from this terrible and overwhelming forcethundering on our heels under full charge possessed us all, I think,and this paramount necessity held shame and fury in abeyance. There wasnothing on earth for us to do but to ride and try to keep our horsesfrom falling headlong on the rocky, slippery road; for it was now avery hell of trampling horsemen, riding frantically knee against knee,buffeted, driven, crowded, crushed, slipping; and trooper after trooperwent down with a crash under the terrible hoofs, horse and riderbattered instantly into eternity.

  For full three-quarters of a mile they ran us full speed, and we droveon headlong; then at the junction of the New Canaan road our horsemenseparated, and I found myself ridin
g in the rear beside Boyd and JackMount once more. Turning to look back, I perceived the Legion Cavalrywere slowing to a trot to rest their hard-blown horses; and graduallyour men did the same. But the Hussars continued to come on, and wecontinued our retreat, matching our speed to theirs.

  They let drive at us once with their heavy pistols, and we in the rearreturned their fire, emptying one saddle and knocking two horses intothe roadside bushes.

  Then they ran us hard again, and strove to flank us, but the rockycountry was too stiff for their riders, and they could not make out tocut us off or attain our flanks.

  "What a disgrace! What a disgrace!" was all Boyd found to say; and Iknew he meant the shameful surprise, not the retreat of our eightylight horsemen before the thundering charge of their heavy hundreds.

  Our troopers did not seem really frightened; they now jogged alongdoggedly, but coolly enough. We had with us on the New Canaan road sometwenty light dragoons, not including Boyd, myself, and Jack Mount--onecaptain, one cornet and a trumpeter lad, the remainder being rank andfile, and several mounted militiamen.

  The captain, riding in the rear with us, was ever twisting his hatlesshead to scowl back at the Hussars; and he talked continually in a loud,confident voice to reassure his men.

  "They're dropping off by tens and twenties," he said. "If they keep tothat habit we'll give 'em a charge. Wait till the odds lessen. Steadythere, boys! This cattle chase is not ended. We'll fetch 'em a crackyet. We'll get a chance at their mounted infantry yet. All in God'stime, boys. Never doubt it."

  The bugle-horns of the Legion were now sounding their derisive,fox-hunting calls, and behind us we could hear the far laughter andshouting: "Yoicks! Forrard! Stole away--stole away!"

  My cheeks began to burn; Boyd gnawed his lips continually, and I sawour dragoons turning angrily in their saddles as they understood theinsult of the British trumpets.

  Half a mile farther on there ran a sandy, narrow cross road into thewoods on either side of us.

  The captain drew bridle, stood up in his stirrups, and looked back. Forsome time, now, the taunting trumpets had not jeered us, and thepursuit seemed to have slackened after nearly three hard miles ofrunning. But they still followed us, though it was some minutes beforetheir red jackets came bobbing up again over the sandy crest of thehill behind us.

  All our men who had been looking back were now wheeled; and we divided,half backing into the sandy road to the right, half taking theleft-hand road under command of Lieutenant Boyd.

  "They are not too many," said the dragoon captain coolly, beckoning tohis little bugle-horn.

  Willows hid us until their advanced troopers were close to where wesat--so close that one of our excited dragoons, spurring suddenlyforward into the main road, beat down a Hussar's guard, flung his armsaround him, and tore him from his saddle. Both fell from their horsesand began to fight fisticuffs in the sandy ditch.

  We charged instantly, and the enemy ran for it, our troopers raisingthe view halloo in their turn and whipping out their sabres. And allthe way back to the Stamford road we ran them, and so excited becameour dragoons that we could scarce hold them when we came in sight oncemore of the British main body now reforming under the rolling smoke ofPoundridge village, which they had set on fire.

  But further advance was madness, even when the remainder of our lighttroop came cantering down the Stamford road to rejoin us and watch theburning town, for we could now muster but two score and ten riders,having lost nearly thirty dead or missing.

  A dozen of Captain Fancher's militia came up, sober farmers of thevillage that lay below us buried in smoke; and our dragoons listened tothe tales of these men, some of whom had been in the village when theonset came, and had remained there, skulking about to pick off theenemy until their main forces returned.

  "Tarleton was in a great rage, I warrant you," said one big, raw-bonedmilitiaman. "He rode up to Major Lockwood's house with his dragoons,and says he: 'Burn me this arch rebel's nest!' And the next minute theYagers were running in and out, setting fire to the curtains andlighting bundles of hay in every room. And I saw the Major's lady standthere on her doorstep and demand the reason for such barbarity--thehouse already afire behind her. Mrs. Hunt and the servants came outwith the children in their arms. And, 'By God, madam,' says Tarleton,'when shots are fired at my men from houses by the inhabitants of anytown in America, I'll burn the town and hang the men if I can get 'em.'Some Hussars came up, driving before them the Major's fine herd ofimported cattle--and a troop of his brood mares--the same he has sooften had to hide in the Rock Hills. 'Stand clear, madam!' bawlsTarleton. 'I'll suffer nothing to be removed from that house!' At thisthe Major's lady gives one long look after her children, which BetsyHunt and the blacks are carrying through the orchard; then she calmlyenters the burning house and comes out again with a big silver platterand a load of linen from the dining-room in her arms. And at that atrooper draws his sabre and strikes her with the flat o' theblade--God, what a blow!--so that the lady falls to her knees and theheavy silver platter rolls out on the grass and the fine linen is inthe mud. I saw her blacks lift her and get her off through the orchard.I sneaked out of the brook willows, took a long shot at the beast whostruck her, and then pulled foot."

  There was a shacked silence among the officers who had gathered tolisten. Until this moment our white enemies had offered no violence toladies. So this brutality toward the Major's lady astounded us.

  Somebody said in a low voice:

  "They've fired the church, now."

  Major Lockwood's house was also burning furiously, as also were hisbarns and stables, his sheds, and the new, unfinished barracks. Wecould see it all very plainly from the hilltop where we had gathered.

  "Alsop Hunt was taken," said a militiaman. "They robbed him of hiswatch and purse, damning him for a rebel broad-brim. He's off to theProvost, I fear."

  "They took Mr. Reed, too," said another. "They had a dozen neighboursunder guard when I left."

  Sheldon, looking like death, sat his saddle a little apart. No onespoke to him. For even a deeper disgrace had now befallen the dragoonsin the loss of their standard left behind in Lockwood's house.

  "What a pitiful mess!" whispered Boyd. "Is there nothing to be done butsit here and see the red beasts yonder sack the town?"

  Before I could answer, I caught the sound of distant firing on theLewisboro road. Colonel Thomas reared stiffly in his saddle, and:

  "Those are my own men!" he said loudly, "or I lie like a Tory!"

  A hill half a mile north of us suddenly became dark with men; we sawthe glitter of their muskets, saw the long belt of white smoke encirclethem, saw red-jacketed men run out of a farmhouse, mount, and galloptoward the burning town.

  Along the road below us a column of Continental infantry appeared onthe run, cheering us with their hats.

  A roar from our dragoons answered them; our bugle-horn spoke, and I sawMajor Tallmadge, with a trumpeter at his back, rein in while thetroopers were reforming and calling off amid a whirlwind of rearinghorses and excited men.

  Below in the village, the British had heard and perfectly understoodthe volley from Thomas's regiment, and the cavalry and mounted infantryof the Legion were assembling in the smoke, and already beginning arapid retreat by the Bedford road.

  As Boyd and I went clattering down the hill, we saw Major Lockwood withThomas's men, and we rode up to him. He passed his sword to the lefthand, and leaning across in his saddle, exchanged a grip with us. Hisface was ghastly.

  "I know--I know," he said hurriedly. "I have seen my wife and children.My wife is not badly injured. All are in safety. Thank you, gentlemen."

  We wheeled our horses and fell in beside our infantry, now pressingforward on a heavy run, so that Colonel Thomas and Major Lockwood hadto canter their horses.

  Firing instantly broke out as we entered the smoky zone where thehouses were burning. Into it, an our left, galloped Sheldon's lightdragoons, who, having but five muskets in the command, went at theYag
ers with naked sabres; and suddenly found themselves in touch withthe entire Legion cavalry, who set up a Loud bawling:

  "Surrender, you damned rebels! Pull up, there! Halt!"

  I saw a trooper, one Jared Hoyt, split the skull of a pursuing Britishdragoon straight across the mouth with a back-handed stroke, as heescaped from the melee; and another, one John Buckhout, duck his headas a dragoon fired at him, and, still ducking and loudly cursing thefellow, rejoin us as we sheered off from the masses of red-jacketedriders, wheeled, and went at the mounted Yagers, who did not stand ourcharge.

  There was much smoke, and the thick, suffocating gloom was lighted onlyby streaming sparks, so that in the confusion and explosion of musketsit was difficult to manoeuvre successfully and at the same time keepclear of Tarleton's overwhelming main body.

  This body was now in full but orderly retreat, driving with it cattle,horses, and some two dozen prisoners, mostly peaceable inhabitants whohad taken no part in the affair. Also, they had a wagon piled with thehelmets, weapons, and accoutrements of Sheldon's dead riders; and oneof their Hussars bore Sheldon's captured standard in his stirrup.

  To charge this mass of men was not possible with the two score horsemenleft us; and they retreated faster than our militia and Continentalscould travel. So all we could do was to hang on their rear and letdrive at them from our saddles.

  As far as we rode with them, we saw a dozen of their riders fall eitherdead or wounded from their horses, and saw their comrades lift theminto one of the wagons. Also we saw our dragoons and militia take threeprisoners and three horses before we finally turned bridle after ourlast long shot at their rear guard.

  For our business here lay not in this affair, and Boyd had disobeyedhis orders in not avoiding all fighting. He knew well enough that thebullets from our three rifles were of little consequence to our countrycompared to the safe accomplishment of our mission hither, and our safereturn with the Siwanois. Fortune had connived at our disobedience, forno one of us bore so much as a scratch, though all three of us mightvery easily have been done to death in the mad flight from the MeetingHouse, amid that plunging hell of horsemen.

  Fortune, too, hung to our stirrup leathers as we trotted intoPoundridge, for, among a throng of village folk who stood gazing at thesmoking ashes of the Lockwood house, we saw our Siwanois standing,tall, impassive, wrapped in his blanket.

  And late that afternoon we rode out of the half-ruined village,northward. Our saddle-bags were full; our animals rested; and, besideus, strode the Sagamore, fully armed and accoutred, lock braided, bodyoiled and painted for war--truly a terrific shape in the falling dusk.

  On the naked breast of this Mohican warrior of the Siwanois clan, whichis called by the Delawares "The Clan of the Magic Wolf," outlined inscarlet, I saw the emblem of his own international clan--as Isupposed--a bear.

  And of a sudden, within me, vaguely, something stirred--some faintmemory, as though I had once before beheld that symbol on a dark andnaked breast, outlined in scarlet. Where had I seen it before? At GuyPark? At Johnson Hall? Fort Johnson? Butlersbury? Somewhere I had seenthat symbol, and in that same paint. Yes, it might easily have been.Every nation of the Confederacy possessed a clan that wore the bear.And yet--and yet--this bear seemed somehow different--and yetfamiliar--strangely familiar to me--but in a manner which awoke withinme an unrest as subtle as it was curious.

  I drew bridle, and as the Sagamore came up, I said uneasily:

  "Brother, and ensign of the great bear clan of many nations, why is thesymbol that you wear familiar to me--and yet so strangely unfamiliar?"

  He shot a glance of lightning intelligence at me, then instantly hisfeatures became smoothly composed and blank again.

  "Has my brother never before seen the Spirit Bear?" he asked coldly.

  "Is that a clan, Mayaro?"

  "Among the Siwanois only." "That is strange," I muttered. "I have neverbefore seen a Siwanois. Where could I have seen a Siwanois? Where?"

  But he only shook his head.

  Boyd and Mount had pricked forward; I still lingered by the Mohican.And presently I said:

  "That was a brave little maid who bore our message to you."

  He made no answer.

  "I have been wondering," I continued carelessly, "whether she has nofriends--so poor she seems--so sad and friendless, Have you anyknowledge of her?"

  The Indian glanced at me warily, "My brother Loskiel should ask thesequestions of the maid herself."

  "But I shall never see her again, Sagamore. How can I ask her, then?"

  The Indian remained silent. And, perhaps because I vaguely entertainedsome future hope of loosening his tongue in her regard, I now saidnothing more concerning her, deeming that best. But I was stillthinking of her as I rode northward through the deepening dusk.

  A great weariness possessed me, no doubt fatigue from the day'sexcitement and anxiety. Also, for some hours, that curiousbattle-hunger had been gnawing at my belly so that I had liked tostarve there in my saddle ere Boyd gave the signal to off-saddle forthe night.