The Hidden Children Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  A TRYST

  Above the White Plains the territory was supposed to be our own. Below,seventeen thousand red-coats held the city of New York; and theirpartisans, irregulars, militia, refugee-corps, and Legion-horsemen,harried the lines. Yet, except the enemy's cruisers which sometimesstrayed far up the Hudson, like impudent hawks circling within the veryhome-yard, we saw nothing of red-rag or leather-cap north of our lines,save only once, when Lieutenant-Colonel Simcoe nearly caught us.

  His Excellency's army lay in position all around us, now, from WestPoint down the river; and our light-horsemen patrolled as far south asthe unhappy country from which we had retired through the smoke ofBedford's burning farms and the blaze of church and manor atPoundridge. That hilly strip was then our southern frontier, bravelydefended by Thomas and Lockwood, shamefully neglected by Sheldon, as wehad seen. For which he was broke, poor devil, and a better man setthere to watch the red fox Tarleton, to harry Emmeriek, and to throwthe fear o' God into that headlong blockhead, Simcoe, a brave man, butso possessed by hatred for "Mr." Washington that every move he made waslike a goaded bull--his halts merely the bewilderment of baffled fury,his charges blind and bellowing.

  I know how he conducted, not from hearsay alone, but because at sunriseon our second day northward, before we struck the river-road, we hadlike to have had a brush with him, his flankers running afoul of us notfar beyond a fortified post heavily held by our Continentals.

  It was the glimpse of cannon and levelled bayonets that bewildered him;and his bawling charge sheered wide o' the shabby Continentalbattle-line, through which we galloped into safety, our Indian stickingto my crupper like a tree-cat with every claw. And I remember still thegrim laughter that greeted us from those unshaven, powder-blackenedranks, and how they laughed, too, as they fired by platoons at the farglimmer of Simcoe's helmets through the chestnut trees.

  And in the meantime, all the while, even from the very first eveningwhen we off-saddled in the rocky Westchester woods and made our firstflying-camp, I had become uneasy concerning the Siwanois--uncertainconcerning his loyalty to the very verge of suspicion.

  I said nothing of this to Lieutenant Boyd, having nothing definite tocommunicate. Nor did I even hint my suspicions, because distrust in themind of such a man as Boyd would be very difficult to eradicate, andthe slightest mishandling of our delicate situation might alienate theSagamore forever.

  Yet, of one thing I had become almost convinced: the Siwanois, while weslept, met and held communication with somebody outside our camp.

  On the first night this had happened; for, awaking and missing theSagamore, who had been left on guard, I lay a-watching under myblanket, and when he came in to the fire once more, it seemed to methat far in the woods I heard the faint sound of another personretiring stealthily through the tell-tale bushes that choke all secondgrowth hereabouts.

  On the second day we crossed to the other side of the Hudson in flatboats, with our horses. But on that night it was the same, I feigningsleep when it came time for the Siwanois to relieve the man on guard.And once again, after he had silently inspected us all, the Sagamorestole away into leafy depths, but halted as before within earshotstill. And once again some nascent sense within me seemed to becomeaware of another human being somewhere moving in the woods outside ourfire.

  How I divined it I do not know, because this time I could hear no soundin the starry obscurity of the Western Catskills, save only thosefamiliar forest sounds which never cease by night--unseen stirrings ofsleeping birds, the ruffle, of feathers, the sudden rustle of somefurry thing alarmed, the scratchings and pickings in rotting windfalls,the whisper of some falling leaf severed by insects or relaxing itsbrief clasp of the mother stem in the precocity of a maturity premature.

  Yet, so strong now had become my suspicions that I was alreadypreparing to unroll my blanket, rise, and creep after the Siwanois,when his light and rapid footfall sounded on the leaves close to myhead; and, as before, while again I feigned sleep, far in the thicketsomebody moved, cautiously retreating into tangled depths. But whetherI really heard or only guessed, I do not know down to this very day.

  On the third night it rained and we made a bark hut. Perhaps theSiwanois did his talking with this unseen visitor while away inpretense of peeling bark, for he did not creep abroad that night. But,somehow, I knew he had kept some tryst.

  Now, on this fourth day, and our journey drawing to its end, I resolvedto follow the Siwanois if he stirred from our fire, and discover formyself with what manner of visitor he held these stealthy councils.

  During the long day's march I lagged and watched and listened in vainfor any follower along our route. Sometimes I even played at flanker,sometimes rode far on ahead, and, at times, stuck to the Indian hourafter hour, seeming not to watch him, but with every sense alert tosurprise some glance, some significant movement, some cunning andtreacherous signal, to convince me that the forest had eyes that markedus, and ears which heard us, and that the Siwanois knew it, and aidedand abetted under our very gaze.

  But I had seen him do nothing that indicated him to be in secretcommunication with anybody. He marked neither tree nor stone, nor leafnor moss, as far as I could see; dropped nothing, made no sound at allsave when he gravely answered some observation that we offered. Once,even, I found a pretext to go back on the trail, searching to find somesign he might have left behind him: and had my journey for my pains.

  Now, had this same Indian been an Iroquois I might have formed somereasonable judgment concerning his capacity for treachery; but I hadseen few Delawares in my life, and had never heard them speak at all,save to boast in their cups of Uncas, Tamanund, and Miontonomoh. As fora Siwanois Mohican, this Sagamore of the Magic Clan was the first ofhis tribe and ensign that I had ever beheld. And with every motive andevery interest and desire in the world to believe him honest--and evenin my secret heart believing him to be so--yet I could not close eyesand ears to what so stealthily was passing in the midnight woods aroundme. And truly it was duty, nor any motive baser, that set me after himthat starlit night, when, as before, being on guard, he left the fireabout midnight: and I out of my blanket and after him in a trice.

  The day was the 7th of July, a Wednesday, I remember, as I had writ itin my journal, my habit being to set down every evening, or as near thedate as convenient, a few words which briefly recorded the day's events.

  The night before we had camped in the woods along the Catskill roadleading toward Cobus-kill; this night, being fine and warm, we madeopen camp along a stream, within a few miles' journey of the MiddleFort; and, soupaan being eaten, let the coals die and whiten intoashes. This, partly because we needed not the warmth, partly fromprecaution. For although on the open roads our troops in detachmentswere now concentrating, moving on Otsego Lake and the upper waters ofthe Delaware and Susquehanna, this was no friendly country, and we knewit. So the less firelight, the snugger we might lie in case of somestray scalping party from the west or north.

  Now, as I say, no sooner did the Siwanois leave his post and goa-roving than I went after him, with infinite precaution; and I flattermyself that I made no more noise on the brookside moss than themoon-cast shadow of a flying cloud. Guy Johnson was no skilfulwoodsman, but his Indians were; and of them I learned my craft. Andscout detail in Morgan's Rifles, too, was a rare school to finish anyman and match him with the best who ran the woods.

  Too near his heels I dared not venture, as long as his tall form passedlike a shadow against the white light that the stars let in through theforest cleft, where ran the noisy stream. But presently he turned off,and for a moment I thought to lose him in the utter blackness of theprimeval trees. And surely would have had I not seen close to me a vastand smoothly slanting ledge of rock which the stars shining on madesilvery, and on which no tree could grow, scarce even a tuft of fern,so like a floor it lay in a wide oval amid the forest gloom.

  Somewhere upon that dim and sparkling esplanade the Siwanois had nowseated himself.
For a while, straining my eyes where I lay flat amongthe taller fringing ferns, I could just make out a blot in the greynesswhere he sat upright, like a watching catamount under the stars.

  Then, across the dimness, another blot moved to join him; and I felt myhair stir as chilling certainty shocked from me my lingering hope thatI had been mistaken.

  Faintly--oh, scarce audible at all--the murmur of two voices came to methere where I lay under the misty lustre of the stars. Nearer, nearer Icrept, nearer, nearer, until I lay flat as a shadow there, stark on theshelf of rock. And, as though they had heard me, and as if to spite me,their voices sank to whispers. Yet, I knew of a certainty that I hadneither been observed nor heard.

  Hushed voices, whispers, undertones as soft as summer night winds--thatwas all I heard, all I could make of it; and sniffed treason as I laythere, making no question of the foulness of this midnight tryst.

  It was an hour, I think, they sat there, two ghostly figures formlessagainst the woods; then one rose, and presently I saw it was theSagamore.

  Noiselessly he retraced his steps across the silvery esplanade of rock;and if my vague, flat outline were even visible to him I passed for ashadow or a cleft beneath his notice--perhaps for a fallen branch orheap of fern and withered leaf--I know not. But I let him go,unstirring, my eyes riveted upon the other shape, seated there likesome grey wraith upon a giant's tombstone, under the high stars.

  Beyond the ferns I saw the shadow of the Sagamore against the streampass toward our camp. Then I addressed myself to the business beforeme; loosened knife and hatchet in their beaded sheaths, stirred, movedforward inch by inch, closer, closer, then to the left to get behind,nearer, ever nearer, till the time had come for me to act. I rosesilently to my moccasined feet, softly drew my heavy knife againstevents, and lightly struck the ringing blade against my hatchet.

  Instantly the grey shape bounded upright, and I heard a whispering cryof terror stifled to a sob.

  And then a stunning silence fell between us twain.

  For I was staring upon the maid who had brought the Sagamore to us, andshe was looking back at me, still swaying on her feet and all a-tremblefrom the dreadful fear that still possessed her.

  "Lois?" I made out to whisper.

  She placed one hand against her side, fighting for breath; and when shegained it sighed deeply once or twice, with a low sound like thewhimpering wings of doves.

  At her feet I saw a cup of water shining, a fragment of corn bread andmeat. Near these lay a bundle with straps on it.

  "In God's name," I said in a ghostly voice, "what does this mean? Whyhave you followed us these four days past? Are you mad to risk ascalping party, or, on the open road, hazard the rough gallantries ofsoldiers' bivouacs? If you had business in these parts, and desired tocome, why did you not tell me so and travel with us?"

  "I did not wish to ask that privilege of----" She hesitated, then benther head. "----of any man. What harm have I caused you by following?"

  I said, still amazed and wondering:

  "I understand it all now. The Sagamore brings you food. Is that true?"

  "Yes," she said sullenly.

  "And you have kept in touch with us ever since we started?"

  "With Mayaro."

  "Why?"

  "I have told you that I had no wish to travel in your company."

  "But for protection----"

  "Protection! I have heard that, too, from men. It is ever on men'slips--that word meaning damnation. I thank you, Mr. Loskiel, I requireno protection."

  "Do you distrust Lieutenant Boyd or me? Or what?"

  "Men! And you twain are two of them."

  "You fear such men as we are!" I demanded impatiently.

  "I know nothing of you," she answered, "save that you are men."

  "Do you mean Mr. Boyd--and his thoughtless gallantry----"

  "I mean men! All men! And he differs in nothing from the rest that Ican see. Which is why I travel without your leave on my own affairs andby myself--spite of the Iroquois." She added bitterly; "And it is knownto civilization that the Iroquois are to be trusted where the white manis not!"

  Her meaning was plain enough now. What this young girl had seen andsuffered and resented amid a world of men I did not know. Boyd's lategallantry, idle, and even ignoble as it had appeared to me, hadpoisoned her against me also, confirming apparently all she ever hadknown of men.

  If this young, lonely, ragged thing were what her attitude and wordsmade plain, she had long endured her beauty as a punishment. What herbusiness might be in lingering around barracks and soldiers' camps Icould not guess; but women who haunted such resorts seldom complainedof the rough gallantries offered. And if their charms faded, theypainted lip and cheek, and schooled the quivering mouth to smile again.

  What her business might now be in following our little detail northwardI could not surmise. Here was no barracks wench! But wench or gypsy orwhat not, it was impossible that I should leave her here alone. Eventhe thought of it set one cold.

  "Come into camp this night," I said.

  "I will not."

  "You must do so. I may not leave you here alone."

  "I can care for myself."

  "Yes--as you cared for yourself when I crept up behind you. And if Ihad been a savage--then what?"

  "A quick end," she said coolly.

  "Or a wretched captivity--perhaps marriage to some villainousIroquois----"

  "Yes, sir; but nothing worse than marriage!"

  "Child!" I exclaimed. "Where have you lived to belie the pitiful youthof you with such a worldly-worn and bitter tongue? I tell you all menare not of that stripe! Do you not believe me?"

  "Birds sing, sir."

  "Will you come into camp?" I repeated hotly.

  "And if I will not?"

  "Then, by heaven, I'll carry you in my arms! Will you come?"

  She laughed at me, dangerously calm, seated herself, picked up thepartly eaten food, and began to consume it with all the insolentleisure in the world.

  I stood watching her for a few moments, then sat down cross-leggedbefore her.

  "Why do you doubt me, Lois?" I asked.

  "Dear sir, I do not doubt you," she answered with faintest malice.

  "I tell you I am not of that stripe!" I said angrily.

  "Then you are not a man at all. I tell you I have talked with men asgood as you, and heard them protest as you do--yes, with all the gentlecondescension that you use, all of your confidence and masterfuladvice. Sooner or later all have proved the same," she shrugged;"----proved themselves men, in plainer words."

  She sat eating thoughtfully, looking aloft now and then at the thicksplendor of the firmament.

  Then, breaking a bit of corn bread, she said gravely:

  "I do not mean that you have not been kind, as men mean kindness. I donot even mean that I blame men. God made them different from us. Andhad He made me one, doubtless I had been as all men are, taking theroad through life as gaily, sword on thigh and hat in hand to everypretty baggage that a kindly fate made wayfarer with me. No, I havenever blamed a man; only the silly minx who listens."

  After a short silence, I said: "Who, in the name of heaven, are you,Lois?"

  "Does that concern you?"

  "I would have it concern me--if you wish."

  "Dear sir," she said very coolly, "I wish nothing of the kind."

  "You do not trust me."

  "Why, yes, as I trust every man--except a red one."

  "Yet, I tell you that all that animates me is a desire to render you acomrade's service----"

  "And I thank you, Mr. Loskiel, because, like other men, you mean itgenerously and well. Yet, you are an officer in the corps d'elite; andyou would be ashamed to have the humblest bugler in your regiment seeyou with such a one as I."

  She broke another morsel from her bread:

  "You dare not cross a camp-parade beside me. At least the plaything ofan officer should walk in silk, whatever clothes a soldier's trull.Sir, do you suppose I d
o not know?"

  She looked up at the stars, and then quietly at me.

  "The open comradeship of any man with me but marks us both. Only histaste is criticized, not his morals. But the world's judgment leaves menothing to cover me except the silk or rags I chance to wear. And if Iam brave and fine it would be said of me, 'The hussy's gown is braveand fine!' And if I go in tatters, 'What slattern have we here,flaunting her boldness in the very sun?' So a comradeship with any manis all one to me. And I go my way, neither a burden nor a plaything, ascandal only to myself, involving no man high or low save where theiradvances wrong us both in the world's eyes--as did those of yourfriend, yonder by a dead fire asleep."

  "All men are not so fashioned. Can you not believe me?"

  "You say so, sir."

  "Yes; and I say that I am not."

  "Birds sing."

  "Lois, will you let me aid you?"

  "In what? The Sagamore feeds me; and the Middle Fort is not so far."

  "And at the Middle Fort how will you live?"

  "As I have lived; wash for the soldiers; sew for them--contrive to finda living as I journey."

  "Whither?"

  "It is my own affair."

  "May I not aid?"

  "You could not if you would; you would not if you could."

  "Ask me, Lois."

  "No." She shook her head. Then, slowly: "I do thank you for the wish,Mr. Loskiel. But the Siwanois himself refuses what I ask. And youwould, also, did you know my wish."

  "What is your wish?"

  She shook her head: "It is useless to voice it--useless."

  She gathered the scant fragments of her meal, wrapped them in a bit ofsilver birch-bark, unrolled her bundle, and placed them there. Then shedrained the tin cup of its chilly water, and, still sitting therecross-legged on the rock, tied the little cup to her girdle. It seemedto me, there in the dusk, that she smiled very faintly; and if it wasso it was the first smile I had had of her when she said:

  "I travel light, Mr. Loskiel. But otherwise there is nothing lightabout me."

  "Lois, I pray you, listen. As I am a man, I can not leave you here."

  "For that reason, sir, you will presently take your leave."

  "No, I shall remain if you will not come into camp with us."

  She said impatiently:

  "I lie safer here than you around your fire. You mean well; now takeyour leave of me--with whatever flight of fancy," she added mockingly,"that my present condition invests me with in the eyes of a very youngman."

  The rudeness of the fling burnt my face, but I answered civilly:

  "A scalping party may be anywhere in these woods. It is the season; andneither Oneida Lake nor Fort Niagara itself are so distant that theirfar-hurled hatchets may not strike us here."

  "I will not go with you," said she, making of her bundle a pillow.Then, very coolly, she extended her slim body and laid her head on thebundle.

  I made no answer, nor any movement for fully an hour. Then, verystealthily, I leaned forward to see if she truly slept. And found hereyes wide open.

  "You waste time mounting sentry over me," she said in a low voice."Best employ your leisure in the sleep you need."

  "I can not sleep."

  "Nor I--if you remain here awake beside me."

  She raised herself on her elbow, peering through the darkness towardthe stream.

  "The Siwanois has been standing yonder by the stream watching us thisfull hour past. Let him mount sentry if he wishes."

  "You have a tree-cat's eyes," I said. "I see nothing."

  Then I rose and unbuckled my belt. Hatchet and knife dangled from it. Istooped and laid it beside her. Then, stepping backward a pace or two,I unlaced my hunting shirt of doe-skin, drew it off, and, rolling itinto a soft pillow, lay down, cradling my cheek among the thrums.

  I do not know how long I lay there before I fell asleep from veryweariness of the new and deep emotions, as strange to me as they wereunwelcome. The restlessness, the misgivings which, since I first hadseen this maid, had subtly invaded me, now, grown stronger, assailed mewith an apprehension I could neither put from me nor explain. Nor wasthis vague fear for her alone; for, at moments, it seemed as though itwere for myself I feared--fearing myself.

  So far in my brief life, I had borne myself cleanly and upright, thoughthe times were loose enough, God knows, and the master of Guy Park hadread me no lesson or set me no example above the morals and the customsof his class and of the age.

  It may have been pride--I know not what it was, that I could notice thedoings of Sir John and of young Walter Butler and remain aloof, evenindifferent. Yet, this was so. Never had a woman's beauty stirred meotherwise than blamelessly, never had I entertained any sentimenttoward fashionable folly other than aversion and a kind of shamedcontempt.

  Nor had I been blind at Guy Park and Butlersbury and Tribes Hill, norin Albany, either. I knew Clarissa Putnam; I also knew SusannahWormwood and her sister Elizabeth, and all that pretty company; andmany another pretty minx and laughing, light-minded lass in countyTryon. And a few in Cambridge, too. So I was no niais, no naive countryfool, unless to remain aloof were folly. And I often wondered to myselfhow this might really be, when Boyd rallied me and messmates laughed.

  And now, as I lay there under the clustered stars, my head pillowed onmy deer-skin shirt, my mind fell a-groping for reason to bear me out inmy strained and strange perplexity.

  Why, from the time I first had spoken to her, should thoughts of thisstrange and ragged maid have so possessed me that each day my memory ofher returned, haunting me, puzzling me, plaguing my curiosity tillimagination awoke, spurring my revery to the very border of an unknownland where rides Romance, in armour, vizor down.

  Until this night I had not crossed that border, nor ever thought to, ordreamed of doing it. No beggar-maiden-seeking king was I by nature, norever felt for shabby dress and common folk aught but the mixture ofpity and aversion which breeds a kind of charity. And, I once supposed,were the Queen of Sheba herself to pass me in a slattern's rags, onlyher rags could I ever see, for all her beauty.

  But how was it now with me that, from the very first, I had been firstconscious of this maid herself, then of her rags. How was it that Ifelt no charity, nor pity of that sort, only a vague desire that sheshould understand me better--know that I meant her kindness--God knowswhat I wished of her, and why her grey eyes haunted me, and why I couldnot seem to put her from my mind.

  That now she fully possessed my mind I convinced myself was due to myvery natural curiosity concerning her; forgetting that a week ago Ishould not have condescended to curiosity.

  Who and what was she? She had been schooled; that was plain in voiceand manner. And, though she used me with scant courtesy, I wasconvinced she had been schooled in manners, too, and was no stranger tousages and customs which mark indelibly where birth and breeding do notalways.

  Why was she here? Why alone? Where were her natural protectors then?What would be her fate a-gypsying through a land blackened with war, orhaunting camps and forts, penniless, in rags--and her beauty ever aflaming danger to herself, despite her tatters and because of them.

  I slept at last; I do not know how long. The stars still glitteredoverhead when I awoke, remembered, and suddenly sat upright.

  She was gone. I might have known it. But over me there came a rush offear and anger and hurt pride; and died, leaving a strange, dull aching.

  Over my arm I threw my rifle-frock, looked dully about to find my belt,discovered it at my feet. As I buckled it, from the hatchet-slingsomething fell; and I stooped to pick it up.

  It was a wild-rose stem bearing a bud unclosed. And to a thorn a shredof silver birch-bark clung impaled. On it was scratched with a knife'skeen point a message which I could not read until once more I crept into our fire, which Mount had lighted for our breakfast.

  And there I read her message: "A rose for your ring, comrade. And benot angry with me."

  I read it again, then curled it to a tiny cyli
nder and placed it in mypouch, glancing sideways at the reclining Mohican. Boyd began to murmurand stretch in his blanket, then relaxed once more.

  So I lay down, leaving Jack Mount a-cooking ashen cakes, and yawning.