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W609 'J5A . -JO ■ P'^one -> ■^'589 - Tow JiS,,l /* Ir i' i A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE j^ Tiomance of the Jlmerican T^evolution my ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS JIuthor of "An Enemy to the King. " " Philip Wimoood. "etc. and G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS jluthor of •• Hemming the Advenlura," " A Captain of Raleigh's, " etc. ■ttli « frnttttaiiUrf In foil rnlnnr from a )raintta0 bg FRANK T. MEEWILL BOSTON « L. C. PAGE & COMPANY « MDCCCCXI Copyright, iqii By L. C. Page & Company (incorporatkd) Entered at Stationers' Hall, London All rights reserved First Impression, April, 191 1 Second Impression. April, 1911 BJtctrotyped and Printed by THE COLONIAL PRESS C. //. Simonds &* Co., Boston, U. S.A. I, II. III. IV. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVTTT. CONTENTS — • — mam John Bradford, Tory . . . . i The Wharton Household . . . ig Solomon's Vision . . . ^c The .-Xrrival of Two Disturbing F"actors in One Day ... 47 Colonel Gibbon Blocks the King's Highway against the King's Regiments ^q Captain Barnabas Bradford '. 88 Among ihe Fleshpots of Philadel- ^^"^ ••■... 105 Captain David Wharton and the Two Generals . . -127 Why David Wharton Did Not Stay to Dinner ... IHE i'.XPEDITION Is DiSPATCHED IN Haste ,5-. f«\^J^ ■ ." 18^ IN Which the New Major Comes to <^R'EF igg Off to War 217 In Which New Enemies Are Found AND Dealt With 231 The Washington - Clinton Race . 2C4 The Day at Monmouth . 267 On the Road to New York . 291 At THE House of John BRtVOFORD 310 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE CHAPTER I JOHN BRADFORD, TORY Old Asa Wharton sat on a bench in the kitchen of his gray farm-house. The door stood open to the clear, renewing sunshine of mid-April. The patriarchal farmer was engaged in mending a trace that had broken, a few^ minutes before, and so in- terrupted his morning's plowing. His brown, hard fingers were busy with the leather, his mind with a greater matter. At a table near the chimney two women were preparing a baking of bread for the heated ovens. One was Prudence, mistress of the house and wife of Asa's only son, the Reverend Oliver Wharton The other was Susan, the onlv servant of the household. The women chatted as 1 2 A SOLDIEK OF VALLEY tORGE they worked ; for in tiic Massaclmsetts farm-house of 1775 the attitude of mistress to maid was friendly and unpretentious. Asa's nic(hiations and tlie women's chatter were interrupted by Mr. John Bradford. This gentle- man, wh(» was both physically and financially sub- stantial, entered the kitchen from an inner room. He held his three-cornered hat and walking-cane in one hand, and several fokled documents in the other. Though gray of head and somewhat too fleshy of face and figure, he carried his sixty years well. " I must step out and conclude my business with Edw.u-d Wickham and Richard Harvey." he sa'd: " and so to-morrow will bring our very jjleasant stay under your roof to a close, Mrs. Wharton." " We shall be sorry indeed, sir, to have you and Anne leave us." returned the dame. " Anne is like sunshine in the house and such a sweet, cheering ct)mpanion for our Ruth." Mr. Bradford b(nved ponderously. Being a Tory and a Boston merchant, he had taken some pains, in recent years, to elaborate his manners. .\sa \Miarton now sat with his hands idle in his lap and his keen though kindly glance upon his guest's face. " I am sorry for what you have done, John," he JOHN BRADFORD. TORY S said. " An' maybe you'll regret it yourself, some day." " You mean the selling of the land, Asa? " " Yes, the selling cf those two fine farms for less than half their real \ ilue — and every acre of 'em cut out of the forest Ly your grandfather an' your father." Asa spoke with the heat of conviction; but it was a quiet heat. Mr. Bradford smiled complacently. " My friend," he said. " though I get only half the value of the land — and, mind you. I do not admit to having driven so poor a bargain as that — I shall at least have it safe in my counting-house in Boston, in the shape of good English gold, when property in this vicinity shall be of no value at all." "Why. John, whatever are you talking about?" inquired the other. " I was never much of a hand at readin' riddles; and it bests me to think what could happen — except another Noah's flood — that would make these good meadows an' corn-lands valueless. Whcaten bread an' corn-bread, pancakes, beef, wool an' mutton ! — what's ever to happen, John, to rob such blessings of their value ? " " Answer the question for yourself. Asa, as you are well able to," returned Bradford. " When you and your neighbours, who talk rebellion in every 4 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE fence corner and at every turn of the road, have at last hatched that serpent's egg — why, then you'll have your answer! And you won't relish it, my friend! The land, no doubt, will still be of value — but of no value to its seditious owners. The arm of the English King is long. Asa. and the royal regiments are at the end of it — like a red fist." The old man chuckled, " If that is what you think, John, you would surely run no risk in hold- ing on to your farms. Von are not among the seditious — you are a loyal subject of His Majesty — so why fear for the safety of your property? " The merchant cleared his throat ; but he was at a loss for a reply. " Father is right. Mr. Bradford," said Prudence, drily. " Even it we rebellious country-folk should dare to ri.se and offend the King's ^L1jesty, so staunch and well-known a Tory as you would not sufifer either in person or property. General Cage won'd see to it that your property was protected, you may be sure. Otherwise, where would be the reward of your loyalty?" " Very true. Very true ! " returned Mr. Brad- ford ; " but. for all that. I'll feel snfer with the price of the lands in my own strnncr box in Boston, in undeniable, disaffected English gtu'neas." JOHN BRADFORD, TORY I ■J Asa nodded, his tanned face wrinkled in quiet mirth. *' Ma>be you're right, John," he said; " but, as you've done it, I'm sorry we couldn't take ad- vantage of your sagacity. Here we be, three stal- wart Whartons — Asa, the gran'dad, Oliver, the 6011, David, the gran'son — an' not the iialf-price of those two good farms, layin' north an' south 'long- side our own meadows, in our combineil pockets. 'Tis a pity, John, a pity! I like land — and, best of all, I like New England land. And I'd be glad to own some more of it at this very minute." " And yet, Asa, your father was a richer man than mine," replied Bradford. " You have lived a long life, Asa; but you have not gathered any money together. I sometimes wonder what you have done with all those good years." The old man's eyes twinkled. " I have wrought according to my lights, friend John," he answered; " and so I'll continue to do — while the lights last. You can cover every shilling of mine with a golden guinea, John ; but where you have nought but those golden guineas to count over and over I have golden memories. Lord love us! d'you think I'd exchange wy treasure for yours? No, indeed! " " Hah — hum. Treasures of the mind," said the merchant, with pity in his voice. " Well, every man to his taste. Asa Wharton to his treasures of « A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FOR(.E tlic mind and Joiin Bradford to his treasures of the mint." Asa Wharton got to Iiis feet and with flashing eyes and raised hand demanded the attention of his guest, his dauj^diter-i!i hiw and the ^er' ant. "Carthaj,aMi;i! Loiii>L)urjr! Onebec! Ticonde- roga! " lie cried. " Tiiose names spell history, not property — an' .\sa Wharton had a hand in the spelling. I have taken the word of command from Wolfe against the might of I'rance, from Washing- ton against the lying subtleties of the red man. Wolfe had an ugly little face: but I can see it now — a clear tlame — as he rode down our lines on the plains of Abraham, Ix-fore (Juebec. ' Don't break the line, Xew r.nglanders." said he. ' Back a pace. Dress by the centre. Xirn'W be at 'em soon enough, my lads.' And his voice like a boy's, mind you; and his ugly little face (laming like an angel's. Hah! is that a memory to trade for gold? ' Back. New Knglanders,' said he. And why? Because we were edging forward, to a man — straim'ng towards the enemy. .\nd Washington ! I le was a lieuten- ant of rangers when last T fought under him. though what he may be when next — but that can wait ! " Asa cooled suddenly, returned to his seat on the bench and took the broken leather in his hands ^^^^^^^^^s.:r;f ./|;^-'-^ ii:^'ri' : ;a JOHN HRADFORD, TORY f ajjain. rnulcnrc looked above tlie hn ad-board aj^ain, ber cbecks aglow and bcr eyes >hiniiig. Kven Susan sliowcd signs of elation and awe. But Mr. Bradford was unstirred. *' Very fine. Asa," be said, consequentially. " Fine and beroic; but impossible. \'ou bave been a brave soldier and nave fouglit inider .some great leaders; but tbey were IJritisb leaders, Asa. Even VVasbington was a Hritisb officer — tbcn. So long as you figbt under His Majesty's officers, old friend, you'll have victories to record: but sbr-uld the mad folly of this c.nmtry and these times lead you to take up arms against su'-h commanders — why, God help you ! " He turned and lK)we(. to Prudence. " I shall be back before dinner. Mrs. Wharton." .le said. Then he placed his hat on his head and niarched out of the kitchen, to hand over the title deeds of his farms to W'ickham and Harvey, two men who be- lieved in the value of the land. John Bradford was not a happy man, in spite of his wealth and his loyalty to King George of Eng- land. He believed his friends the Whanons to be terribly rash and misguided in their attitude toward the sudden, burning question of the time; but in many things he envied Asa Wharton. Most of all he en-ied him his son. He, too, had a son; but 8 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGii Lord! the difference between the Reverend OHver Wharton and Barnabas Bradford! Jolin had made a false step, at tlie very begnining of his career, by marrying a woman of no good quahties save an unusual, brazen kind of physical beauty. This woman had made Jolin's life a nightmare to him for a few years, had presented him with the afore- mentioned Barnabas and had then run away to Eng- land with a youthful admirer. John had suffered shame — and relief; and he had made no effort to recover the woman. His London agent had kept him informed of her life and doings, however; and, at last, had notified him of her death — a disgrace- ful death. There had never been a happier widower than John Bradford. But he had not remained a widower fo*- long, but had ventured upon matri- mony again and this time without disaster. So, for five brief years he had been happ) — and then fate had struck what had seemed to them the crud- est blow of all. riis wife had died, suddenly, of a fever. " I have had two wives," John had said, " the first a devil, the second an angel. This is enough of wiving for me, though T should live to be a hun- dred." So, upon recovering from the fir'^t bitter shock of his loss, he had turned his atlention strictly to his children, and his business. He had now two JOHN BRADFORD, TORY 9 M children, Barnabas, the offspring of the first union, and Anne, the offspring of the second. This Barnabas was his mother over again, body and spirit. He began to disclose his real nature at an early age; but the father had shut his eyes to these disclosures, had hoped against hope, until that day of shame when Barnabas Bradford, son of John Bradford, was expelled from Harvard College from the same college from which Asa Wharton's son Oliver had gone forth, about eight years before, with a distinguished degree and the respected love of teachers and fellow-students. Barnabas Brad- ford's case was an unusual one of its kind — a thing of utter disgrace. The whole of it was never made known to the public. John, in the first fury of his shame, had tried to administer a thrashing to the cause of it ; but Master Barnabas had tripped him up very neatly, laid him flat on the floor with pain- ful violence, and held the point of a knife against the paternal windpipe; and John, gazing up into the young man's eyes, had seen the eyes of the mother — the red shadow of hell-fire as he hoped never to see it again. And so, instead of receiving a thrashing. Barnabas had sailed for England and Europe, his pockets well lined. After this, anotlier change came over John Brad- ford. He left Anne almost entirely to the care of 10 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE her governess (who was an honest woman, fortu- nately), and applied all of his mi' d and what was left him of a heart to his business. It was as if all the pleasurable excitements of life had dwindled to the adding of guinea to guinea, house to house. Sometimes he remembered to ask for his little daughter upon his return to the big, empty home after the day's work; but sometimes he forgot. Now and again his conscience pricked him and he played with the child for half an hour at a tiine, — lx)ught toys for her and ordered new dresses and fal-de-lals. As ■:•.& years passed, however, he suf- fered these prickings of the conscience less and less frecjuently. He had other things to prick him. Heaven knows! — and these things were the irreg- ular and shameless reappearances of Barnabas. For Barnabas, with his money gone, always turned up like the proverbial bad shilling, came home like the proverbial cat; and until his pockets were filled again from the paternal coffers he remained in Boston, haunting the resorts of vice and flaunting his depravity in tlie faces of his father and his father's friends. I'ntil he v.as shipped awav again John Bradford's reputation — yes, and his life, even — htmg by a thread ; for Barnabas was as ready to twist a knife as to twist his lying tnngue. He was absolutely, utterly vicious and dishonourable; and JOHN BRADFORD, TORY u yet his father had uot the hanhliood of spirit to hand him over to tlie autliorities. Once again money would be paid; once again Barnabas would swear tliat this time was the last - with his tongue in his cheek as soon as the oath was given; and once again he would take ship for London. A day came when John Bradford awoke to the amazing fact that little Anne was a young woman — and a decidedly charming young woman, at that. She nas tall, graceful and more than pretty. Her manivTS were good ; she could read in both French and ■-nglish: she could play several classical selec- tions on the harpsichord and the lute; she could sing, dance and do artistic needlework. In short, she was a young lady of whom any parent might well be proud -the equal of any proud, patched beauty m Boston - a fit mate for some stately Colonial Tory of the ruling class or some dashing officer of the Imperial army. John Bradford was delighted — .so delighted that, h,!t for a vow that he had once taken, he would have led the governess to the altar out of sheer .gratitude. So pleaded was he that even Barnabas was forgotten -- fo^ a little while. Gold was John's sod: but now. suddenly, his place of devotion har- boured a eoddess as well - and this was his daugh- ter. But his pride in her was stronger than his I; I! 12 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE paternal love. He looked upon her as his greatest treasure, his highest-priced possession. Of course he loved her as his daughter, for he was human; but father-love was not the strongest emotion which she awakened in his heart. John Bradford had distinguished himself in com- merce and had acquired wealth; but of late years he had feic, now and then, a thirst for another, though kindred, branch of worldly distinction. When the realization of Anne's powers and charms came to him, tliis secondary ambition took definite shape in his mind. It was a desire to take as high a place in the social life of Boston as he had already won in the commercial life. This was a queer van- ity to find in such a man as Bradford, for he pos- sessed no social accomplishments that itched to be displayed, no thirst for merrymaking, no hunger for the companionship of scholars. He simply wanted to mix with the fashionably gay, the distin- guished and the scholarly in their social life. He wanted the town — the state — to know of it — to see John Bradford a familiar guest in the houses of Winslow and Winthrop. of Ludlow and Bliss. He w-as a sound Tory; and now it was his ambition to become a fashionable Tory as well. He looked at .Anne and understood that she must be his key to the doors of the exclusive. JOHN BRADFORD, TORY 13 John Bradford had started upon his social ven- ture only about two years before the time of the opening of this story. Thanks greatly to Anne and shghtly to his wealth, he had made admirable prog- ress. He found the best of the fashionable, espe- cially those of Coloni:.! birth, simple in everything except their manner. These were delighted to know him. frankly charmed with Anne, and full of wonder that they had not seen more of John in the past. They pronounced him an estimable man — a good Bostonian ; and that seemed t.> be qualifica- tion enough for them and theirs ; but from people of less assured position, and from some of the Eng- lish officers of the garrison, he met with snubs and rebufifs at first. Only at first, however. His pres- ence at a party at Augustus Ludlow's and a State ball at Government House set him right with the waverers; and the gentlemen of the garrison took a second look at Anne, made a few more inquiries into John's business, and were pleased to be polite. " Very likely he is quite as good as any other of these demmed Colonials." remarked . ur-c his suit. " 'J'hiiigs have cmtie to a pretty pass in this scdi- ti.ms licle!" he exclaimed. "The place is a-reek with rebellion. .\ loyal subject -a Kint,''s man — cannot so mncli as walk tiie Kinj^r's higjiuay without meeting with insult. It is a shame! A crying dis- grace." " Why. father, what has happened? " asked .Anne. Temple >miled. " Lord! my dear sir. who gives a thought to a few Iump> of mn to lly our way, instead of dry earth, then well have something to cry out ahout ; and then it will Ik' time tu take steps in the matter," replied Temple. "However tiiat may i)e, sir, John Bradford, a native ot this villa,t,'e and as loyal a subject of Kinj.^ (leorge as any liorn in London, does not mean to wait here until llie lead hei^dns to t1y," said the mer- chant, pomixiusly. " 'ro-morrow my daughter and 1 return to Boston." " In tiiat case." said Mr. Tem])le. with a swift glance toward .\nne. " 1 think 1. too. must return to Boston and duty. My health is (piite restored by now, thanks to this fine air." \nnc did not meet the Englishman's glance but turned to her father. " ^Tust we go? " she asked. " There is reallv no danger. I am sure the trouble you are afraid of, father, exists only in your imagination." " Please let .\nne stay with us a iutle » .;ger, Mr. Bradford," pleaded Ruth. " She needs the rest and r|uie1, after her gay winter in town." " '.\\y dear young lady, it caniK-t be." answered John, not unkindly. "We have been well treated under vour roof and lia\-e greatly enjovcd our visit ; b:it there is tliat in the air that makes it politic for a man of niy — ahem! — of mv views in certain |i" THE WHARTON HOUSEHOLD 21 1 matters, to withdraw speedily from this neighbour- hood. I foresee a season of madness and disorder — brief, 'tis true, but ex x-chng bitter. To-day I was assauhed (ni the King's higliuay Ixjcause I am known for a loyal subject. Of what might happen a few days hence, when the fe\cr of revolt is more advanced, I tremble to think." At that moment Su>an appearcil at the kitchen door and blew a deafening blast on a long tin horn. " I must run in and see that the table is set. Will you honour us with your company at dinner. Lieu- tenant Temple?" said Ruth. Tem{)le bowed, smiling whimsically. " With pleasure. Miss Ruth — as I have every day of the past week," he replied. " [ am going with you." .said Anne. The two girls entered the house, leaving the mer- chant and the lieutenant alone under the apple trees. "This is a bad business." said Bradford. "A deviH,<;h bad b;^siness! I Lrcmblc for our safety, lieutenant. The sooner we get safely back to the protectifm of the regiments the better." "Twaddle!" returned the Englishman. "Sir?" " -^^ —■ T beg pardon ! Rut we are in no real danger. There's something brewing, of course; but T don't think it will amount to much. This is 22 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE a dcliglitful spot — I liave been happy licre. I am sorry to have to leave it. \t;. Xot so happy a^^ I might be, of course — but still hopeful and happy." ■■ Ail! You are hopeful?" " Yes, sir. I have not yet ventured to — to put the question; but 1 feel that my chance improves every day." " Well, sir, you know that I wish you success. Anne is such a strange girl, however, that I am afraid to advise her," said Bradford. Just then Asa Wharton appeared, from having stabled the horses. He greeted the Englishman pleasantly and respectfully. The two shook hands. " Yon look better every day. lieutenant." said the old man. " We have fine air, sir." " And you have fine dinners, sir," returned Temple. " You'll always be welcome to our table, sir, whatever the food may be like," said .\sa. Temple bowed. He liked thi^ (]ueer old farmer-soldier. It was a type he was not used to — a type unknown to rural England. "Well spoken, .X'^a! Spoken like a Wharton," said Bradford. " Yet, old friend, judging by what I sec and hear, you — you are not all that you sound." K^. THE WlIARTC)x\ HOUSEHOLD 23 " I am an honest man, Jolin," rcplierl .\^a; " and I linpc i sound like one Vou, too. are an honest man — hut surely you have lived l(jng enough, John, to kn.nv that all h nest men do not run to the same whistle." " Quite rig," said [ohn " Quite right " 'I smcerel_ hope that nothing may happen to make enennes of us. .Mr. Wharton." said Temple. " There'll be no private enmity between us, vou ■nay be sure," replied the farmer; -and. as I said oefore. I shall always be proud t,, sliare mv dinner with you. But now I must go in and tidy myself, gentlemen." The simple but bonntifid dinner was served in the dining-parlour. Susan waited upon the diners, assisted occa-ionally by Ruth. The party consisted of the three honom-ed guests .Atnie. John .nnd the Englishman, of Asa. the K\-verend Oliver and bis wife. Ruth and her brother Davik the parson ! But we are not all Germans." " You distress me," said John, tartly. " You must make allowances, John, for the lieu- tetiant's w it an' upbrin-ini;," said Asa. " It's not e\ery man could have turned my daughter's thoughtless remark so neatly and made us all laugh where some would have left us feelirig awkward. It's a gift, Jolm — a gift you are not blessed with. For my (.nvn part my filmier admiration of the lieu- tenant is increased: and I am ready to take oath on it that, when loyalty to your king is put to the test, neine uill be found of a finer loxidty than our honoured young friend, lie and 1. his and mine, may look on certain matters at different angles, but I'll trust liim to stand by his colours as I trust the \\'hartut what is a soldier, when you consider the ques- tion honestly? Wiiy! nought hut a fighting- machine! Food for powder! .A defender or threater.er (as the case may he) of commerce, hired by the real brain and sinew of the world — the merchant. A-hem! " " A-hem. indeed." murmured Temple. "Consider the subject broadly, impersonally," o.ntinued John, who had not caught the Knglish- nian's aside. " Is the military life a noble one?^ Is it helpful to humanity:^ What say you, Oliver? " " Do you wili- fence at tlie Ik- k ..f the farm. Much of the hrnsi, thai ha.l been aif and laid in i)lace a year before Iia.l been enislied Hat by the winter snows. TIh'm- j^ap. Iiad either to be filled by sta- king np the olrj material .ir by supplying new. Thon-h Uavid's heart was not in the work that afternoon, and thou-h only a portion of his mind was upr.n ,t. he did n..t fumble or make any mis- takes. Kn[ as much as a stroke .^f his keen axe- l)la(Ie was wasted or ill-considered. Where a weak si-ot could be mended with a new tree, and a young spruce or f^r stood clo>e at band and in the' right position, he took his measurements in a glance, cut half-way through the trunk on one side, drove the axe in to the eye at the op[)osite side and sent the tower of green sweeping down into the exact place when- it was rcjuired. Tt looked ea.sy enough — and it wa^ easy for such a skilled axeman as David. 35 i ii 'III ii 3C A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE In this way rod after rcid of tlie fence was set to rights. Economy of timber did not have to be considered in New England in 1775. There was enough and to spare on every farm in Massachu- setts. David worked swiftly and unerringly; but his thoughts were in the gray, wide-roofed house where Anne Bradford made a sunshine in-doors that matched tlie April brightness without. To-mor- row tiiat sunshine w ould he withdrawn ! The gray, simple farm-house was to lose it. the grand house in Boston — nay, many grand houses and assembly rooms — were to receive it. The sunshine was to be withdrawn from him: but Temple was to con- tinue in its tender and inspiring influence. " That is as it should be." he said, sturdily. " She is town-bred, and fashionable, and a beauty. She is an heiress, too — and the toast of Boston, I'll take oath. She is not for any plain farmer, any man of homespun. Though her father is but a merchant, and a man of no .scholar.ship or dis- tinction of birth, yet she is like a princess and has been brought up like a princess. She must take an aristocrat for a luLsband — and if so, who more likely than Temple? He is kind and honest, as well as great and rich." But he could not drive from his mind the memory SOLOMON'S VISION 87 M of her eyes as he had seen them a few hours before at the dinner-table; and neither could he satisfy Iiimself with his reading of that intoxicating, bewil- dering glance. At first, and afterward for a few delirious minutes, he had believed that love — love for him — was what he had seen in those bright yet darkling orbs. But now, alone with his axe and the crowding forests and the wide field that wore his only fortune, reason forced him to revise that reading. It could not possibly have been any- thing more than friendship! And perhaps not even that. It might be that she was thinking of some- one else — of the Englishman — when he caught that look in her eyes. Wliat else, in the name of Heaven! Why should a girl like that give a tliought to a plain, hard-working farmer? — aye, to a clodhopper! Then, like a sudden hot flame, a yet more bitter idea flashed into his mind. Had she intended the Englishman to oversee that ex- change of glances? Had she meant to stir him into activity? No, that could not be! She was honest. Her heart was as beautiful as her face. And yet the scorch of that thought remained with him. " I wish to God I'd never seen her ! " he whis- pered, bitterly. " I am a fool! " It was six o'clock when David completed the •f ft' «'* ' h 'M r h 'i ft lii l.-i If hi I > 38 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE repairing of the fence. He filled and lit his pipe and sat for a while in dismal meditation. He was disturbed by a shrill whistle from the edge of the wood. Looking up, he beheld the familiar, pitiful figure of a young man of the neighbourhood named Solomon Brent. There had always been a Solo- mon in the Brent family, though there had never been a man of wisdom. Tlie present possessor of the name was an undeniable half-wit. He was about nineteen years of age. halting of speech, lanky of limb and trunk, vacant of face. His colourless cheeks and stooped shoulders gave him tlie appear- ance of being weak physically as well as mentally; but in reality Iiis long arms and shambling legs were endowed with tremendous stren.gth. .Also, on occasion, he could mo\e with wonderful swiftness. Now he crossed the field and stood before David, his large, shapeless mouth lengthened in a foolish smile. " Why, Sol, you look fine to-day," said David, glad of any diversion. " That cutlass on vour hip makes you look the image of some old hero and the spruce bough in your hat " "That ain't spruce. Davy," returned Solomon. " It's a crest o' feathers — eagle's feathers. I am rduskap. the God of the Algonquins. It makes a good game, Davy. Will you play it. too? " U H -1 .m'm:t^>:j.m^^4m SOLOMON'S VISION S9 " Not now. I've been working hard." " Is your gun oiled an' loaded an' all ready, Davy?" " Yes, it's ready, Sol. Why do you speak of it?" " Because you'll be needin' it soon. There'll be a power o' shootin' goin' on afore long, Davy." " Maybe you're right, lad ; but what makes you think so?" Solomon Brent glanced furtively around. Then he placed a long, thin hand on David's shoulder. " I seen it," he whispered. " I seen it this very day — a picter of what's to come to us." " How could you see it ? What did yon see ? " " 'Twas down on our own bottom medder, this very day. just about noon-time. I was on that bit of a knoll to the west of the medder. The sun- shine was very bright. It was crawlin' over the wet grass like a kinder clear smoke. An' then I seen it. Davy! There was five or si.x redcoat sod- gers standin' together like a bunch of young steers in a snow-storm — kinder backin' into each other. They had fine belts on 'em, Davy, across their backs nn' their fronts an' as white as Parson Wharton's bands on a Sunday mornin'. But two of 'em had lost their great hats. Up went their guns; but I didn't hear no bang, Davy. I seen a kinder ghost I ; I; I "I a 40 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE of smoke — a shadder, like — an' then they started runnin' again. Well they run about twenty yards — an' then tliey run 'emselves clean into the air — to nothin'. Well, Davy, that dashed my spirits, for I was admirin' the picter. But in a jiffy there was more folks a-hikin' across the medder — an' they was four men just such as you an' me, Davy, tho' maybe not one of 'em was as big an' stal- wart as us. They was hollerin', I know, tho' I couldn't hear 'em. There was an old man ahead, without no coat to his back, just as if he'd quit plowin' a minute before. He was loadin' his gim as he hiked along. An* in a jiffy they was clean out of the picter. too — an' that's all I seen. Davy." David Wharton sprang excitedly to his feet. " Then it has begun," he cried. " Somewhere — somehow — it has begun. The f^ght is on ! We'll be at it ourselves m a few days. In serving my country I'll be able to forget the — the foolish- ness. Ah! Sol. now every man of us must stand firm for freedom. There i.s no drawing back now ! " ^^ " Ay. Davy, that's what T say," replied Solomon. " I'm all for freedom, by gimi. I'll not stand by a king who chucks my tea into Boston Harbour." " You've got that story hind-side before. Sol. But never mind. We are free-born men and not SOLOMON'S VISION 41 a race of conquered slaves. We are Colonials ; but, by the Lord ! who won and made these Colonies ? Did the King of England? — or the fat-headed, narrow-souled Islanders who've never seen any- thing of the world but their own villages? No! We — our fathers — won this country from the savages and the wild and held it against the French and the Canadians. We did it in the name of England and Liberty. We were Englishmen — the adventurous, the Empire-builders of the race! We left the cowards and sluggards behind us. And now t!! y talk and act as if we were a race that had been conquered by their ancestors ! " " I guess that's so, Davy. Anyhow. I'm standin' firm with you, Davy. This here cutlass will make 'em wish they hadn't. I got a gun, too — a mighty fine weapon; but sometimes, somehow or other, the shot gets down the bar'l afore the powder — an' then she don't shoot. Reckon I'd ought to turn her 'rouud when that happens, an' fire from t'other end. How-some-ever. Davy, I'm glad you believe in the warnin' of my vision. I was afraid that maybe you hadn't sense enough. Davy." " Yes. that is a kind of vision I believe in, Sol. for it was a real picture of something that was happening. I have read and heard of such things before, on both land and sea. It was what is called r I.. 1.1 I ^V! 42 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE a mirage. The sun does it — though I'm not sure just how." " Ay, Davy, you're talkin' to a man who be- lieves you. It was a mighty fine picter, any- how." " Well. I must be getting back to the house now," said David, shouldering his axe. " Milking is to be done yet, before supper. Will you come along and have supper with us, Sol? " " I reckon not, Davy," rep'ied Solomon. " There's that English officer who haunts your house all the time! He'll be to supper — an' I'm that fire-away in my temper. Davy, that maybe I'd do him some hurt, right there at your ma's supper- table. I'd mistake him for King George, like as not, an' without meanin' anything serious I'd out with this here cutlass — an' afore you could wink, Davy, or parson spout a prayer, there'd be the officer's head in a pie-dish an' your ma's table- linen all mussed ! " David laughed heartily. " In that case, Sol, perhaps you'd better not come to supper till to- morrow night," he said. " Temple is not a mon- .ster — and we'd all be sorry to see his head fly off. We all admire l.ieutenant Temple, in sjjite of the colour of his coat." " Not you. Davy." £^' ; 1 i SOLOMON'S VISION 48 " Yes, indeed. I like him. I only wish he had I)cen horn here, and then he'd be on our side of this affair." " But he's after John Bradford's darter! " "What of that, lad?" "Just this, Davy. So are you! An' if I wasn't your friend. Davy, I'd be after her. too. Just say the word an' I'll slice his head off to-night, soon's it gets good an' dark." " No, you wouldn't. Sol," returned David, sternly. " That is not the way soldiers do things. Iliat is not the way Brents and Whartons fight. And you are talking foolishness in every particu- lar. What do you know of Miss Bradford's af- fairs?" "Just what I see in your face, Davy," replied ScjKjtnon Brent. David returned to the house. " And yet Sol is reckoned to be less than half-witted," he reflected, in wonder. Supper was quieter than dinner had been. There was something in the air — something at once rest- less and dispiriting — that told upon the company. Asa Wharton was preoccupied, answered several questions vaguely, turned his head frequently toward the door. John Bradford showed signs of tret fulness. Even Temple was quiet, glancing now 44 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 1 I i and then at Anne, hut oftener losing his gaze in the heart of the candle tiame before him. David tried to make conversation ; but as he felt that po- liteness to guests demanded silence concerning Solo- mon's vision, his efforts were not very successful for he could think only of Anne and of the mirage in whicli the half-wit had seen British soldiers re- treating before the advance of armed farmers. 1'he Reverend Oliver managed to talk well, if not inspir- ingly, of t..e weather and the condition of the live stock; but he was wondering, all the time, which of the men at that table would be the first to pass violently from this life to the next. He knew that the time of bloodshed was close at hand. After supper, David went into the village. He found almost all the men and lads of the neighbour- hood gathered at William Pickard's tavern, inside and out. They, too, felt the onu'nous lull, the tin- gling calm foreheralding the gathering storm. Vague rum.ours were in circulation. Dangerous passions were awaking. A very few of the men were drinking; and one, a big farmer from three miles beyond the crossroads, was indulging some- what too freely in corn whiskey. He shouldered his way out of the house, glass in hand. He raised the glass higli above his head. " Boys." he cried, " here's luck to us an' damna- SOLOMON'S VISION 45 tioii everlastin' to them as w.juld make us slaves! Here'3 to our bullets — an' may every one of em go through a redcoat ! " His toasts were received with cheers, and fol- K'wed by good-natured laughter when the self- ordained toastmaster accidentally spilled his liquor over a neighbour's face instead of into his own mouth. David was well received by everyone, for his family was highly respected. Old Asa Whar- ton was the hero of the country-side. Oliver was as loved as a minister as he was as a man. David himself was popular with all who knew him. Great tilings were expected of David, and his knowledge of the science of soldiering was a boast of the vil- lage. In the thick of the press before the inn David asked if they had heard what young Solomon Brent had seen tliat day. No one had heard it, so he told of Solomon's vision. It was received with cheers. 'It's an omen." shouted one. "We'll lick 'em clean out of their red coats." " It is more than that." replied David ; and he explained his theory of the mirage as well as he could. His words were confirmed by the school- master, and by others who had heard or read of such things, "Then if the fight's already begun it's time we ?5* 46 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE took a liand in it," said a yoiitij,' trapper who had come out of the wilderness to the settlements only a few weeks U-fore. I'm ready, boys. Summer's my slack time, you know." " Don't be in a hurry, Jim," said David. " We will get the word in a day or two I think; and then you'll find work ahead of you that will occupy more than your spare time. It'll be no one-summer business, you can take oath." » h M 'il: "-• "» mm CHAPTER IV THE ARRIVAL OF TWO DISTURBING FACTORS IN ONE DAY The five men sat late that night in the httle book- hnt'd study. David spoke of the excitement around llie tavern. He told of Scjiomon Brent's vision ; but he did not mention Ins argument with Jim Martin, tlie trapper. His hearers were deeply impressed with the story of the mirage. John Bradford made an effort, at first, to put the serious consideration of it aside with jeers. "A half-wit's dream- er lie," he said. The others shook their heads. Oliver drew several books from the shelves and soon found passages dealing with well-known ex- amples of the mirage. He read them aloud. The merchant's sneer became apprehension. " I hope, to heaven, the whole countrv is not up in arms ! " he exclaimed. " Lord ! who'd have thought this could ever be! We are in danger, lieutenant — in grave danger. I'll feel a weight off my heart when I see the spires of Boston again." h! t I*! I ! t ■L * ^i Mi _^Wr \ •♦ tl • 48 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE " It has been nutliing mure than a skirmish. I think," said Temple. " You are safe under this roof. j,rentlemen.- said Asa. " You are not threatened by savages, as uur fathers were. And t<.-m.,rn.\v. though yon may h..d a deal of e.xcitenient on the road. Ill .swear tliat yon will meet with no injury. You will have Anne with you — and the company of a woman will be your safeguard." " Yes," said Oliver. " \\ni are safe to-night, and will be safe enouj4h ;o-morr(nv." " And once inside Boston our safetv is assured," said John. "The danger will be the other wav. then. My friends. I am sorry for you and I would to God I could make you sec your madness! Ay. madness! Madness unspeakable - and laughable, too, but for the punishment tliat must follow." " He laughs best who laughs last." returned Asa. quietly. " Jl'c have not yet laughed, John: but I notice that you have, more than once." " It does not seem a condition of affairs for either side to laugh at," said Temple. " Whatever the cause (.f this trouble — whatever fine things may be said of it and high names given to it — blood will be shed, homes desolated. Englishman will destroy Englishman — for the spirit and blood of all of us is English." ^ Ilia TWO DISTURBLNG FACTORS 49 Asa iKKldt'd. " 1 aj^rec with you, sir; but a Mian's own cliild and health are dearer to liim than the name and health of his great-grandfather. But it u 11 be a sad time, a sad time. Well I know it, s r. I have been at death-grips witli Injuns of twenty different nations, with Frenchmen, with Spaniards, with niggers an' with half-breeds; but never before liave I sped the life of a man of my own tongue and mother-blood." " Moralizing will do no good." said John. ■■ Things are in a denmied bad way — an' we may as well be content with that until lo-morrov/." Temple frowned at the man whom he hoped, kfore long, to make his father-in-law. '■ Such sane and Christian discourse as Mr. Wharton's can do no harm and may do good," he "^aid, sternly. '• Maybe so. Maybe so," returned John. " nea\ens, I'm going to bed." He wished them a good night and left the room. " 1 could not sleep, even if I tried to," said Tem- ple. " This is worse than the actual clash of arms — tin's ominous lull. It is like the caln before a hurricane, down about Barbadoes and St. Vincent. It's like the grinning silence of two great dogs, standing jov,l to jowl and eye to eye before they Hash their fangs." ft ill It •■( |5 if! i f i, * ■ i t'» ; ).» » » ' >'* i I f t 'i X 50 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE " If you play chess, sir, and care for a game, I shall be delighted," suggested the parson. " I should enjoy it immensely, sir," replied the Englishman. " We'll seek diversion in mimic bat- tle." So they got out the chess-table and the pieces and played three hard-fought games. Asa sat by the fire of green maple, for the April night was chilly, and saw many old deeds of valour acted again in the glowing coals and leaping Hames. Now and again he moved his hands a little or blinked his eyes. Oth- erwise, he was as still as a carven image. David sat with his back to the candle by the light of which his father and the lieutenant played. He read in- tently in a small book bound in red leather. " Out- posts are of the utmost importance when troops are operating in a hostile country. .\ cautious commander will make every provision to guard against sudden attack when bivouacked, no matter what the size of his force. In the rase of a bat- talion of infantry the commanding officer would do well to " — and so on, and so on. This is the stuflT with which David was trying to divert his mind — not from the electricity of imminent war- fare in the air but from the thoughts of Anne Brad- ford. He was not entirely successful. Several times the sage advice of the renowned tactician to .vi*?; i''^^''^^?^ Mr TWO DISTURBING FACTORS 51 the presumed commanding officer of a battalion was blurred by a vision of Anne's face. The crawling minutes dragged an hour after them in to the past. Old Asa stooped forward, placed another stick on the fire and sank back in his chair again. David frowned, turned the pages of his book and placed his outposts — and every man of them had Anne's eyes. " Mate, I think," said the Reverend Oliver. " Mate, beyond a doubt, sir," replied the Eng- lishman. " Do you care to give me another chance for satisfaction? " " Delighted, sir, if you are not sleepy." They began to place the pieces for the fourth game. Asa sat i suddenly and jerked his head toward the window. " Hark ! " he cautioned. Then, " D'ye hear tliat, a step outside on the grass? " All looked toward the window indicated by Asa's glance, though the curtains were drawn across it. David closed his book and got to his feet; and at that moment there came the sound of tapping knuckles on the glass. David glanced quickly at Ins father and then advanced toward the window. He did not doubt that this was Jim Martin's game. \'ery likely Jim had fortified himself with more liquor and taken the war path. I, . >'■ 1. II B H Pi .'' I* ! * 'H .1 if** m 52 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE " Be careful, lad," said Asa. " No knowin' what it may be. There's devilment in the air." " Nothing dangerous, I'm sure," replied David, parting the curtains a little and staring at the black glass. He saw, indistinctly, the pale outline of a face opposite his own. The face drew nearer by a tew inches until he could see the eyes, like black holes with a glint in them, and a line of mouth twisted in an unattractive smile. " Who is there," he asked. "A friend." came the voice, faint but distinct. " An old friend and a traveller. Let me in, David. Let me in at the door." " I'll have your name first," replied David. The face outside came still nearer to the window- pane. The lips seemed to touch the glass. They looked very thin and unpleasant. " Barnabas Bradford," whispered the lips. With an exclamation of dismay and disgust David turned towards the expectant room. "It is Barnabas," he said. "Barnabas Brad- ford back again." The Whartons were not ignorant of the ways of Barnabas. They had heard a great deal of him from John Bradford and something even from Anne — and rumour of some of his home visits had drifted over the country in common talk. Bos- "*?5J^^o?:. TWO DISTURBING FACTORS 53 ton, in those days, was of just the right size for gossip. " He must come in," said Asa. " Yes. Let him in, Davy," said Oliver. " We must give him sheher for the sake of his family. I wonder if he knows that his father and Anne are here?" " Undoubtedly, sir," returned David, " for this is the first time he has honoured us with a visit since he first left home, ten years ago." He left the room, taking one of the candles with him. "Who is Barnabas Bradford?" asked Temple. "John Bradford's son, by his first wife — and an unscrupulous young man," returned Oliver. " A rascal ! But John's son, after all," said Asa. " I am sorry for John. This visit will upset him more tnan any political or national trouble. We must all make the best of it, however." At that moment the unwelcome visitor entered the room, followed by David. David was scowling and looking awkward ; but Barnabas Bradford was smiling and appeared to be perfectly at his ease. In • me hand he held a fashionable hat, in the other a gold-knobbed tasselled riding-switch. His horse- man's cloak, of fine cloth, was flung back to show its lining of red silk and his perfectly fitted coat .,» I' If -If 'Hll'^'i .:ii 64 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE and yellow breeches. He wore boots and spurs. His hair was neatly tied and powdered. His com- plexion was as dark as Temple's ; but his eyes were small, light and set close together. His nose had an ugly twist to the left. It had been broken in a drunken brawl in a Strand tavern. His brow was nirruw, his mouth wiile and thin. His fea- tures and expression exjjressed every kind of ras- cality save cowardice. He advanced, bowing to Asa. to Oliver and to Lieutenant Temple. The three stood up. " So you are back again, Barnabas," remarked -Asa, drily. " Yes, sir, the prodigal has returned — again, as you say," replied the j)olite rascal, smiling. " I trust I find you in good health, sir — and you, Oliver. But where is my fond parent hiding him- self? I was told, in Boston, that he was here; so I came on at a post-boy's pace, left my nag at the tavern and finished the journey on foot." " Your father retired to his bed some time ago," ■;aid Asa. " But sit down, sit down. Have you supped?" " Tliank you, sir. I have supped. I paused at the tavern for a bit." He looked brazenly at Tem- ple. " But this gentleman? Have I had the hon- our? " TWO DISTIRBIXG FACTORS 55 " It is IJeutenant Tenij)lc, of one of His Maj- esty's regiments," said Oliver. " Lieutenant, allow nie. Mr. Barnabas Bradford." All three bowed. Barnabas did not show the surprise and curiosity he felt in finding an English officer under the Whartons' roof. David left the room for a moment and returned with a clean glass. The visitor charged it to the brim with undiluted rum. He raised it. and glanced from face to face with a sinister smile. " Your health, gentlemen, in the rare old stings! May valour flourish and virtue continue to be its own reward ! " "Ay, a very proper toast." said old Asa drily, and again turned his eyes to the fire. The parson, keeping his temper well in hand, suggested that Barnabas might wish to retire now. The visitor replied that he was in no great hurry to get to bed ; he was accustomed to keeping late hours. " But what has kept you people up so late?" he asked. " The lieutenant's bad example ? Or were you expecting me ? " " You are the last man in the world we expected to see to-night," returned Oliver. " Well. Oliver, it is the unexpected that always happens in such times as these. Now to find Mr. Temple here, when the belief at the tavern 56 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE >• ft n i ] ,, !l- J i' was that lie had taken his horse from the stable, very quietly, and ridden for Boston several hours ago." Temple flushed and stared unwinkingly at the speaker. " But you hnd me here, after all," he said cc^ldly. " I ride for Boston to-morrow. I trust, Mr. Bradford, that my plans are agreeable to you." " Lieutenant Temple is your father's friend — and ours. He is our guest. What is there un- usual in that ? " said Oliver. " So that is the way the cat is about to jump," remarked Barnabas. "Cat? What cat?" inquired Asa. " 'Tis but a figure of speech, Mr. Wharton," returned Barnabas leering. " 'Tis the correctest, most up-to-date style of conversation, in London. What I mean to say is. this company is solid Tory. I can understand it of my dear father, of course — the strong side for him. always! But from what I heard from the patriots at the tavern I am sur- prised to find this family on the side of law and order." " My dear sir." said Temple, " the best of friends may differ in their political beliefs. The Whar- tons are kind enough to accept me as a friend — in spite of my opinions on a certain question. fii*LJX!SSa: ,"%''iS5^K'3B^*iiP|^ TWO DISTURBING FACTORS 57 Being men of breeding, sir, we find no awk- wardness or unpleasantness in the situation. But you, I see, find difficulty in understand- ing." " Breeding, sir? I have learned to look for the fi)unt of breeding in London — not in New Eng- land villages." "Then it is a pity, sir, that you wasted your time so while in London." " I fail to follow your argument, sir." " It is a pity that you did not discover, and drink from the fount of which you speak." " You mean to be offensive, Mr. Temple? " " I trust, Mr. Bradford, that I have been too well taught to give offence unintentionally." " Enough of this ! " exclaimed Asa. " Lieuten- ant, I am old enough to be your grandfather. I request you to go no further with this argument. Be seated, sir. I beg of you. As for you, Barnabas Bradford, though your father is my friend of a lifetime, I tell you frankly that you have flung away your rights to consideration as your father's son. I am an old man; but, by — by all that's lioly_I'll stop your tavern-tricks in this house ! " Barnabas Bradford decided swiftly upon his course, then laughed heartily. ^h J . )- 58 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE *il " My dear Mr. Wharton. I had no intention of exciting your anger," he said. " I am sorry that you mi.sunder.stood me. Also, I am sorry that a nasty way of talking, with which I have hecn cursed from birth, should ofiFend any friend of yours. I had not the slightest intention of being rude to Mr. Temple. I spoke with the tongue rather than with the mind. 1 hope he will be generous enough to forgive me." Temple bowed but did not speak. " And now," continued Barnabas, " I must go back to ti)e room that I have ordered at William Pickard's. I have disturbed you sufficiently for one nighi. I shall be on hand early in the morn- ing, you may be sure. Don't move, sir, I beg! I know my way to the door. Good night all, and pleasant dreams." And so Barnabas Bradford left the house as un- expectedly as he had entered it and even more swiftly. " T am .sorry for John, sorry for John," mur- mured .Asa, wagging his head. " But I'll go get a few winks of sleep, now. To-morrow'll be a busy day for all of us. I reckon." Oliver retired also; but Davie' and Temple sat up, talking and playing chess, until broad day. They were not disturbed. Jim Martin had evi- . T '-^■*t.- rit^nm -«,w^-^. ^|^>^^friF~* " TWO DISTURBING FACTORS 59 dently reconsidered his threat and Barnabas Brad- ford gone quietly to rest at the inn. It was about half-past five in the morning when Temple lay down on a couch in the study and David went out to feeed his elbows on the top bar when the thud- ding of hoofs on the soft road caught his ear. A horseman came into sight, riding loose-reined on a big sorrel. David vaulted the gate and dashed into the road. " Hey ! Hey ! " he shouted. " What's the word ? What's the news ? " The rider saw him and swung his mount to the right a little. He was a small man in a dingy hat and shabby coat. He came on without drawing rein. " It's commenced," he cried. " Yesterday ! Muster at Benton's Corner — mu.sket. rations an' ammunition." And now he was past, hammering loose-reined toward the village. David gazed after him for a moment, then vaulted the fence again and ran to w^ 60 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE the house. He dashed for the front door, it being the nearest — and in the httle porch he came face to face with Anne. He haUed and stared at her. " What is it ? " she whispered ; and he saw that her cheeks were colourless. " What did the horse- man cry to you? " " The word ! " he rephed, breathlessly. " The word to arm and muster ! " " To go to war — against the King's regi- ments ? " " Yes. It has to be — and — and I am glad, Anne — for one reason." "Glad, Davy?" " Yes. I am a fool. Anne! I — I have allowed myself to — to love you, Anne. Now the redcoats may bring me to my senses ! " She clutched the sleeve of his coat. The colour returned to her cheeks. " And so — because of that — you call yourself a fool, Davy ! " she said. " Is that — is that a sign of — of foolishness ? " " In my case. You know it is, Anne. I am a poor farmer — you — you are miles out of my reach ! Do not make it harder for me — Let me go or — or I'll kiss you, Anne! " She did not loosen her hold on his sleeve. He looked down at her in wonder. sprr!rv ^ TWO DISTURBING FACTORS 61 " This is nut a time for joking," he said, ten- der'/. •'Are you joking, Davy?" She looked up at him. " Anne. Anne," he whispered, " that is the way you looked at mc yesterday." " How, Davy ? " "As if — as if you cared." " And do you think I, too, am a fool — to care? " "Anne! Do you mear. — ? " But at that mo- ment old Asa appeared in the porch, from the hall. Anne darted past him into the house. " What is it, Davy ^ What's the trouble? " cried the patriarch. " Well, sir — Anne — " " The man who galloped down the road ? What did he tell you?" " Oh, the horseman ! We are to muster at Ben- ton's Corner, sir. under arms. It has begun! " His grandfather gasped with astonishment. Then his eyes twinkled. " Well, Davy, you do certainly take it cool," he said. " Ves," .said a voice behind David's b^rk. " Davy is just at the age, sir. when girls appear to ho larger than thrones or nations." It was Barnabas Bradford, dressed as on the #1 I iMi !!■ th ■I!' r I 62 A SOLDIER f)V VATLEY I5"0RGE previous night and with his ridinj; switch still in his liand. l)a\ id turned with a grunt. " Ah! So it is you, liarnabas." remarked Asa. " Yes, sir. Iiriijht and early, as I promised," replied the visitor, cheerfully. *' Is my father up yet? .And is he aware of my return to my native land?" David turned and strode into the house, bewil- dered and da/cd with happiness. And yet, at the core of his joy there was still a flaw of doubt. V\'hat had he said? Had she really told him that wonderful thing? He must find her and make sure! In the porch Asa eyed the smiling Barnabas sternly. " Oliver is telling your father," he said. " I had not the courage to administer the .shock to my old friend." " People soon recover from such shocks of joy," answered the other. Asa trembled. For a moment it seemed as if he were about to strike the visitor; but he calmed himself quickly. " I have my country's enemies to fight to-day," he said. " I have not the time to soil my hands on Barnabas Bradford." He turned and entered the house, leaving Bama- TWO DISTURBIN(; FACTORS 63 bas in the porch. He found David in the kitchen — and David had not yet found Anne. " Come, Davy," he said, " this is no time to help get breakfast. Saddle Hero and go up the back road. Give the word to the Brents, the Gaynors and every liouse as far as the swamp. Your dad and I'll wait for you — an' your gun will ho ready. Never mind the breakfast, lad. You'll have time for a snack when you've done your duty." David stared at his grandfather for a moment. Hushed crim.scjn and hurried from the kitchen. Three minutes later he was galloping the big-boned Hero across the fields on a short cut to the back road. High was his mission and clear burned the Haiiie of patrioti.«m in his soul — but he thought only of Anne! Hack in the bright kitchen .'Xsa was busy with the three muskets, the bullet-po!iches and powder-horns. David's mother, in her efforts not to give way to tears, was laughing at nothing as she mixed the batter for the buckwheat cakes. Susan, the servant. was blubbering frankly and letting her tears fall, unheeded, upon the great griddle which she was greasing over the fire. " Man an' woman, old and young, we must all do our duty," said Asa, oiline the hammer of his an- Mm 64 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE f* i'.< '•I HIK til I* cient but deadly musket. " Cheer up, Susan, or you'll drown the fire. Bless niy soul, girl, you'll have us all back afore you can turn 'round, each luggin' a great British general on his back. I've captured a French general af(jre now — so why shouldn't I get holt of a British one?" Prudence laughed with more violence than the speech seemed to warrant. " And what are we to do with him, father, when you bring him in? " she asked. " We'll make him help at the milkin'," replied Asa. Just then John Bradford staggered into the kitchen, his great face white as his neckerchief, fol- lowed closely by Oliver and the two girls, Ruth and Anne. "The chaise! The chaise!" he exclaimed. "I must be gone, old friend. The curse of my life is upon me again ! Better to deal with him in my own house than here." He swayed as he spoke. His daughter and Oliver supported him. Temple entered, his face flushed with suppressed anger. " He has returned to the tavern for his horse." he said thickly. He already loathed this Barnabas — and the knowledge that he was Anne's half- brother burned in his heart like an insult. TWO DIST' aBING FACTORS 65 " I hope to God i^e'» oreak his neck! " cried the mercliant, with blue lips. " My friend," expostulated Oliver, " my friend, do not forget that he is your son." Ruth ran for liquor. Prudence and Susan, with awe in their faces, redoubled their efforts toward the preparation of breakfast. Asa stood his musket against the wall and went out to harness Bradford's horse. Temple hesitated for a moment, looked at Anne, touched one of her trembling hands swiftly and tenderly with his own, and then followed the old man to the stable. Ruth returned with a glass of French brandy and held it to John Bradford's lips. He swallowed part of the liquor then brushed the glass away. " You are a good child, Ruth." he said in a broken, unnatural voice. " And my daughter is a good child. But that heartless, sneering, black- browed devil's pawn ! Is he my son ? Is he of my blood — that monster ? Nay. be is all that woman ! My heart sickens at the sight of him. And now, friends, what think you he has come for? My money — my honour — my life ? — nay, — this time be is all smiles and soft words — and the lies and subtleties of the devil. He is a rich man now — so be says; and he says he has come to take my daughter away with him — to see London ! " :r«s 66 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ii; Mi* ■1 i K '1 ^1? ' ■ * ^'1 1 •tf' '*( :[i ' ii •'*■ ■■<' .;! t He concluued this speech with terrible laughter. Even the stalwart minister trembled at the sound. He had read of the laughter of the damned. This laughter of John Bradford's was surely it! Twenty minutes later the chaise departed for Boston. Jolin Bradford and his daughter inside, and Temple riding at the wheel. 'Hiey were about two hundred yards from the farm-gate when Bar- nabas met them, riding a splendid bay mare. He had been thinking hard and swiftly in the past half- hour, and had decided to play a waiting game — for a time, at least. He put aside the monstrous, dastardly scheme that had brought him home. This young Englishman was worth watching — and this infantile rebellion was worth considering. Yes, the wisest thing was to smooth things over, hide his light under a bushel and watch Eate's play for a move or two. Mrybe Eatc would play a game that even he could not improve upon. So he halted the chaise with a lifted arm, tlien rode close up to the right wheel. Leaning sidewise from the saddle he gazed, smiling, upon his father. John sat there like a thing without hope or life, his checks lined and colourless, his eyes dull, his heavy shoulders sagging. " T am sorry to have shocked you so," said Bar- WLv.^ •■^3Ks:7L TWO DISTURBING FACTORS «7 nabas smoothly. " It was a cruel joke, I must ad- mit; but a joke, nevertheless. In truth, I am a reformed man, sir — but as everyone seemed to expect me to behave disgracefully and cause you pain, as on so many previous occasions, I could not resist the temptation to give you z fright. I am sorry. T had not, nor have, the faintest intention of trying to take Anne away with me. 'Tis a mad idea, on the face of it! Come, sir. look more cheer- ful. I'll cost you nothing more than my bed and board for a few days and shall be the pink of propriety." " What trick now? " asked his father. " None at all, I assure you. sir. I mean to try to undo the wrong 1 have done you in the past." " Words are cheap." " True, sir; but did T ever give you soft words before ? Did I ever before say that I meant to act honestly and kindly by you?" i\0. " Then you must now give me a chance to prove what I say." A faint tinge of colour returned to John's face. " If you mean kindly toward both of us," said Anne, " will you do me a favour now? " " With pleasure, little sister." 68 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 'ill " Then come round to this side. Let me whisper a word to you." He rode round to the other wlieel, Temple eying him coldly tlie while. He leaned close to Anne. " Take this back to David," she whispered, press- ing a scrap of folded paper into his hand. " Be careful ! It is a secret ! Make some excuse for go- ing back to the farm." Barnabas straightened himself in his saddle and laughed good-natureily. " Why, little sister, I am not such a terribly heavy drinker as that ! " he exclaimed ; " but. as you ask it, and I am ready for any reform, I promise you to reduce my allowance to three glasses of port a day and a trifle of punch at night." " Thank you, Barnabas," said .^nne, faintly. His finished lying, even in her cause, shocked her. " Drive on, sir," said Barnabas. " Mr. Temple. I'll overtake you in a very few minutes. I have a written message for the Whartons from one of their fellow-rebels. Their orders are to join a Captain Gibbon's company at Black's Mill. l)efore noon. The man gave me the message to carry in such a matter- of-course way that I had not the heart to refuse." And this, for a wonder, was the truth So Barnabas Bradford, with his messages of love and war, rode at a canter up the highway. •» ^ » .'ff TWO DISTURBING FACTORS 69 " Temple is the husband for Anne," he reflected — " at least from a doting brother's point of view. He does not like me; but I'll work round him. W ish I had suspected, last night, what I know this morning — that he is the only son of Sir Peter Temple, the richest man in Dorset. Once he's mar- ried to Anne I'll discover plenty of ways, if I watch him close, of getting my fingers on some of his money. Yes, that is my game — as far as I can see at present." He opened the note for David and read : " Is it true, Dear? I can scarcely believe it. Indeed and indeed I care! Send me a letter to Boston — soon. Your Anne." " This will not do," said Barnabas. " Master David, out of the cart you go! " He tore the note into tiny fragments and scat- tered them as he rode. " I'll give you her message by word of mouth, my high-browed David, much as it will pain my tender heart to do so," he said, grinning. t re the ii .r^ CHAPTER V COLONEL GIBBON BLOCKS THE KINg's HIGHWAY AGAINST THE KING's REGIMENTS Barnabas Bradford did not get from his saddle, but drew Captain Gibbon's letter from his pocket md handed it down to the Reverend Oliver. The mir^ ^ter. who was already belted and armed, his po er-horn on one side, his bullet-pouch on the o& r and his knapsack on his shoulders, opened the .->r i?r. read it and nodded his thanks to the mes- er. Asa was grinding an axe nearby, Susan tur ng the stone f(^r him. .An axe, as the veteran weii knew, h- a useful thing on a campaign in rural an Kxle districts joining us?" asked Oliver, drily, of Boston rliat's difficult to say," replied Barnabas. '•esent, anyway. T have some business in But where is Davy ? " " Here he comes now," said the other, " flogging old Hero across the fields. He has been along the 70 ^^^^:s^mk^i^mJJkm^ J^::fM^20L^'l COLONEL GIBBON 71 back road with the word — and has not had his breakfast yet, poor lad." Barnabas advanced from the farm-yard to meet David. Both drew rein as they came knee to knee. " Ah ! They've not started yet ! " exclaimed David, with relief. "You mean your grandfather and father?" " No. Mr. Bradford and Anne." " They have gone. Davy. They are several miles on the road to Boston, by now. I rode back with a message for you people from Captain Gibbon — and with a puzzling message for you, Davy, from Anne." "Forme? Puzzling?" " It puzzles me, at least. I had no time to get her to explain it to me." " The message, quick ! For God's sake, what is it?" " She said. ' Tell Davy that it was a joke, after all. and that 1 am sorry.' " Young Wharton's face flamed, then darkened. His gray eyes seemed to change their colour. His big hands shook on the bridle. Then he laughed, liarshly but guardedly. " Sorry ! " he cried. " Well, so am I — that she played it. But it was a mighty fine joke ! " " So it was only a joke, after all," said Barnabas. I:!- I! I K t i if tit! r t •I. III 1 1 72 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE " I am glad of that, Davy. 1 was afraid that it might be a udman's way of saying something seri- ous. But I am glad to learn that Anne is not like the women I know. Well, I must warm leather. 1 promised to overtake them without loss of time." David unsaddled and stabled Hero, dried the good beast's wet and muddy legs with straw and then strode into the house. He ate his breakfast in silence, his left hand clasped all the while in Ruth's thin little hands. Prudence ran in twice, during the meal, and pressed her lips briefly but passionately to his forehead. " Well." said David, at last, pushing back his chair and squaring his shoulders, " I am going to take it out of those redcoats, by God ! " " Davy," exclaimed his sister. " Tliat does not sound like you. I know you will do your duty — but not in that spirit and with oaths on your lips." " I feel like a wildcat." he retorted, " and I'll work the feeling off on the enemies of my native land. Surely you have nothing to sav against that, Ruth." He laughed constrainedly, took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly and then went quickly from the room. Ten minutes later the brief farewells were said, and tlie three men marched away leaving the women alone in the gray house and desolate COLONEL GIBBON 78 sunshine, leaving a sermon half written, the plow in the furrow, a wonderful dream shattered. From Black's Mill they pressed onward two hun- dred strong, headed by four fifers and two drum- mers. They overtook other companies and groups of stragglers; and, six miles beyond the mill they came to a brigade commander's headquarters. The brigadier was one Colonel Hooker, a substantial farmer who, in his younger days, had seen a good deal of fighting — of the kind now known as sav- age warfare. For three hours he had been dispatch- ing gallopers, organizing the men who gathered in from all quarters, authorizing old officers and select- ing new and pushing the rough-hewn battalions toward Boston and the issuing redcoats. He fretted to be at the front; but this was the work he had been ordered to do. so he did it with all his might. His headquarters consisted of a barn and a log hut. He dashed out to meet the new arrivals. " It's a regiment," he cried. " By the Lord! a thumpin' big regiment! Who commands? Who is senior officer? " Captain Gibbon, in half-uniform of a kind, with a rolled blanket on his back, a sword at his side and a duck-gun on his shoulder. ad\anccd modestly, " ordered " the duck-gun and came to attention. " I reckon I must be the man, sir. Been a cap- V "5 » : I ■ < ,. 74 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ■r ■»,■:•' v t ¥ tain, of one kind or another, these twenty years back. John Gibbon, sir, from up Black's Mill way," he said. " Very good, captain. How many d'you stand? '* " Better'n six hundred, sir — and four hundred with muskets or shot-guns. T'others have pitch- forks, cutlasses an' axes, colonel." " Tell your four hundred off into companies of eighty each — five companies. Strengthen each company with forty of the pitch-fork, cutla.ss men — and there you are ! That's how we make armies to-day! How many officers have you?" " Di.ng few, 1 reckon, colonel." Hooker faced the regiment. " Any of you who've been military officers of any kind whatsumever, in any kinder army or corps in any part o' the world, plea^' take post in front o' the regiment — come up here by nie," he bawled. Nine men detached themselves from the untidy ranks, advanced, halted and saluted. All were past forty years of age. One must have been eighty at least. Two had been captains of Rangers, three had been lieutenants in divers militia companies and train-bands and the octogenarian had been a cornet of horse in England, sixty years ago. Two others had held the rank of ensign, somewhere, in some- thing or other, and the ninth had, in his youth, COLONEL GIBBON 75 Iiunted the French on the high seas as a midship- man in an English frigate. All were accepted joyfully by Colonel Hooker. To the fifty-year-old midshipman he said. " Sorry we haven't a fleet, sir; in the meantime you must take a half-company." " Very good, .sir," replied Mr. Warren, saluting. " I'll apply what 1 can remember of shore-drill and boarding tactics." " Now, gentlemen," cried Col riel Hooker. " as- sist your commanding officer in telling oft' the five cciuipanies. Captain Cihbon ranks, from this min- ute, as a Lieutenant-Colonel — and the rank will he confirmed by the proper authorities as soon as pcjssible. Captains Willis and Smith, you will act as majors. We have three lieutenants, a cornet and a senior ensign to command companies. Very good. The cornet will take seniority of all other company officers, with the rank of captain. Take notes of wh.-'^ I am saying, somebody. The remain- ing ensign, Mr. Van West, and Mr. Warren, late an officer of the R )yal Navy, will take rank and command as senior lieutenants. Now we need three more lieutenants, five ensigns, a quartermaster and a chaplain. Colonel Gibbon, suggest some suitable persons to fill these appointments." " Well, sir, there's a man who has done more |i*v •*- ,o.\ ^M^-'ii'X^mj^s^3i^^£sm^KLL:^^ MHk ^■■■iHHiHMMl MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2; 1.25 1.4 nil 1.6 ^ .APPLIED INA/1GE ■J s; till '^t 76 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FOf'.E fightin' than most of us put together, I reckon," rephed Gibbon, pointing to Asa Wharton. " He was with Wolfe in Ouebec, sir. His name is Asd Wharton." " Good! Mr. Wharton, I can offer you the post of ([uartermaster or of heutenant. I know of your career. You'll have your regiment within a month. Come, sir, what is your wish ? " " Why, sir, 1 can fight," replied Asa, advan- cing, " but I reckon I'm too old to begin officering now." " Not at all. friend. You are needed on the flank now, not in the ranks. I haven't a sword for you ; but I doubt not you'll pick one up in a day or two. Colonel Gibbon, Lieutenant Wharton will take a half-company." The regiment cheered. And so the brigadier continued, loud, alert, good- humoured and red of face. He appointed the Rev- erend Oliver Wharton as the new regiment's fight- ing-parson. After asking a few questions of David, he made him an ensign. The commissioned posts were filled ; then he named a regimental sergeant- major and left the appointment of sergeants and corporals to the company's officers. While he in- spected the arms of the new regiment his staff drew up a muster roll the while the men cooked and ate COLONEL GIBBON 77 their simple dinner. They were falling in, by com- panies, when a galloper came dashing up with word of several brisk engagements, the King's troops pressed back toward Boston on four roads but were marching sturdily along this highway, pestered by a few score of patriots but in nowise daunted. Ten minutes later. Colonel Gibbon heeled his frisky coh in the middle of the road. He had pur- chased it, within the hour, from another patriot. He drew his sword. His voice rang out. His hon- est face flamed with great emotion. " The regiment will advance. By the right. Quick — March!" The six hundred stepped off, each company in fours. The majors, who had also acquired char- gers, rode on the flanks, now to the front and now to the rear. After the colonel marched " A " com- pany, with its eighty-year-old ex-cornet leading. On the flank of the " right " half-company marched Asa Wharton, on the flank of the " left " nis grand- son David. The twelve hundred feet stamped a soft but mighty murmur out of the brown earth. Tlie sun glinted on the tines of sloped pitch-forks and glowed gold on the brown barrels of muskets, long rifles and ponderous fowling-pieces. So for three miles they marched and then they were halted in a place where woods of spruce and 78 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE mu^ i i> ■m •: Hi ■hi h fir flanked tlie highway. Two scouts were sent for- ward from each company, in charge cf a captain. The men were allowed to fall out, but were told to keep in touch with their section and squad com- manders. The colonel dismounted and called the officers to him. " Gentlemen," he sai ', " there are two battalions of the enemy marching toward us on this road. We've got to stop them an' run them back to Bos- ton. On other roads they're already moving back. The difficult thing will be to stop them. Once we've stopped them, turned them and hammered them a bit it will be fairly easy to do the rest. Now, it's my thought that, if they're anywheres handy, this is the place to halt them. We have cover here — a chance to do some Injun fighting. What say you. gentle- men?" The officers agreed with him. Lieutenant War- ren remarked that two broadsides would sink the enemy if not given too much elevation. Asa had a suggestion to ofifer. Why not fell trees across the road and so force the redcoats to either climb over, take to the woods or turn back under a smart fire from cover? This suggestion was accepted. Twenty-five choppers were sent back a distance of a hundred yards or so. under David Whart->n's command, to commence work on the barricade as IHhliaWMtaaimWtWrtMlin M COLONEL GIBBON 79 i soon as something was known of the whereabouts of the two battahons. The scouts returned, with word that the English were advancing in good order and not more than half a mile away, with a troop of dragoons skir- mishing along the Hanks and far out across the fields. " To cover," commanded the colonel. " Com- panies A, C. and E to the right, in two ranks with fifty paces interval, front ranks facing road; rear ranks facing t'other way — for the dragoons, per- haps. Companies B and D to the left side, covering intervals between companies on the other side, taking position as mentioned. We don't want to shoot each other. Show markers on your flanks until all have taken position. Maintain silence. Hold your fire until I give you the signal on a drum." The five companies scrambled into cover. David's twenty-five axes began to thud and ring. A great fir swept down from the left and crashed its crown to earth in the opposite thicket. A pine roared down from the other side. A maple, with wide- spread branches, fell in front of these and a ragged hemlock behind them. More spruces, more pines, more maples. Now the barricade was ten yards wide, as high as the wall of a house and fully twice M it $ !..» 80 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE I H. c 'if ' w »,-! *':i' as long as the width of road. At a shrill whistle from David the axes ceased their barking and tlie axemen scrambled through the underbrush to join their cH)nipanies. The colonel dismounted, called for a drummer to come to him, and then led his colt up the bank and into the w(jods. At that moment the banils of the advancing bat- talions struck up their regimental march. It sounded very near — just beyond that wooded curve. The farmers could distinguish the booming of the big drum from the braying of the brass and the singing of the silver. The sound was wonder- ful, valorous, awakening. " Darn my eyes, but that's fine," remarked a youth with a pitch-fork. " That l^e what I calls music, by gum ! " Far off ti> tlie right a bugle blew and was an- swered by a bugle on the left. " The dragoons," said Colonel Gibbon to the senior major. " These woods run back (juite a bit each way, don't they?" " About two miles on this side an' clear to the river on the other." replied the major. " Then that's all right," said the colonel. Scouts nf the advancing host appeared, walking singly. They slackened their pace as they neared the woods. They halted. A squad of six joined COLOxNEL GIBBON 81 tlictn. then all advanced slowly. The band ceased its heroic music and the strong ominous thunder of the marching feet took its place. An advanced half-company came mto sight. The scouts halted, turned and went back to meet the half-company. The ambushed farmers saw, though they could not hear, questions asked and answered. A young of- ficer — a boy of about eighteen years of age — cried out an oath and advanced alone. A big sergeant ran after him and walked at his elbow. These two advanced, talking quietly, glancing anxiously from right to left. " They are here, of course," said the ensign, suddenly and loudly. " Yes, sir, of course," replied the sergeant. " They are not such infernal, demmed fools as Sir Herbert thinks them." " You be right, sir. There's many an old sodger amongst them rebels, sir." The two continued to march forward steadily — an exhibition of cool, calculated bravery that awoke adnn'ration in the hearts of the watching patriots. The advanced half-company now got under way again. The lieail of the column swung round the curve of the road, a glare of scarlet and white, a flare of yellow and gold, a glitter of steel. Tn front rode four officers on splendid chargers. After that if 82 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE « .■ 'I ' :!■!■ •T*. ' gorgeous head came the gorgeous body — the scar- let and the white, and over all the ice-blue glitter and twinkle of the bayonets. Again the bugles of tiie flanking dragoons called and answered from the fields. They were nearer now, — behind the edges of the woods, perliaps. The young, slim ensign and the big sergeant now came in sight of the vast and tangled barricade. They halted, spoke together for a moment and then turned. They began to re- trace their steps as steadily as they had advanced. The scouts, seeing tliese tw throw of each other. Both were captains; but, though David was so greatly the junior in age he was the senior in the service. Barnabas put himself to considerable pains to be polite, even friendly, with the Whartons. They met his advances half-way — that is to say, they were always polite. None of them believed that his new-found honesty was more than skin-deep; though the Reverend Oliver .wu/ he was satisfied '-^-•sasga^ ^Jl> ^rr ^"i .-7- CAPTAIN BARNABAS BRADFORD 93 that Captain Bradford's change of heart was sin- cere. It was his duty, as a man of God, to try to accept the wolf at the value of his sheep's skin. Uarnabas sometimes talked with David and more than once spoke of Anne. He mentioned her ten- derly, but mournfully. Once he went so far as to say, " I ask no questions, Davy ; but I think you once felt more than a friend's interest in Anne. You may still, for all I know. I want to say, Davy, tiiat you would be my choice of a husband for Anne. I don't like Temple himself much better than I like his allegiance." " I like Temple." Davy had replied, steadily. " He is not like the majority of those gentry. He seems to have a broader mind and a softer heart. Are he and Anne to marry ? " Not by so much as the flicker of an eye-lash did he show that he cared — and yet he still cared with his whole heart. One day, in November, Captain Temple went out before breakfast to make a reconnaissance. Captain Bradford was afield at the same time and on the same duty. It had been cleverly arranged. In the gray dawn Temple posted his men in a little wood and ordered them to dismount. He went forward on foot and was soon lost to their view in a rough country. Captain Bradford, not far away, also m ' f <: .II- it :! ?! Is i' i 'I 1 ( I 1! i:;:' !! 4 - i-i 94 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE halted his men and advanced alone. Close to a broken hemlock stump — a noticeable landmark — he c^me face to face with the British officer. Both were crawling among the fro/en fern. " Ah! So it is you? " whispered Barnabas. " Yes. Your terms are accepted — if it can be managed. Any information? " " These. They are to be burned. You'll hear again within the month. No opportunity just now." A small packet passed from Bradford's hand to Temple's. " That is all, I think." " Yes, all for the present." " My men are afoot, captain." " And mine mounted. So I'll retreat and you can make a show of following." " Very good." Temple turned and crawled away, his lips thin with scorn for the traitor behind him. Barnabas crouched silent and motionless for a few seconds, smiling, then blew a shrill whistle. His men soon appeared. lie led them forward at the double. The handful of British broke from their cover and galloped away. A few harmless shots were fired. Captain Bradford marched back to Valley Forge and reported a brief encounter with a reconnais- k M 1 ik^ •vs IBllllmMil CAPTAIN BARNABAS BRADFORD 95 sance party of the enemy. Captain Temple rode hack to town, spent an hour in memorizing the in- formation received from Eiarnabas, burned the papers and then reported, at length and by word of mouth, to the general. Barnabas was a rascal, already a traitor by in- tention, an unnatural son and a thief and liar; and yet he was possessed of both courage and energy. Having marched out on his own business so success- fully, he planned to ride out on the business of the Continentals. He enjoyed the excitement of danger and the spice of outwitting his fellow-men. In de- veKjping and planning for his private enterprise he had acquired a great deal of information that could be used in other ways without injury to his schemes and to fill in the time of waiting with interest. Also, it tickled his devilish sort of pride and hum.our to rise, day by day, in the estimation of his superior officers. So, one night, he visited David Wharton in the latter's hut. Four other officers shared that poor hut of logs with Captain Wharton; but two of them were now on duty and two asleep in their straw-filled bunks. A fire of hemlock roots and green spruce crackled and roared on the rough hearth. " Davy," said Barnabas, " I can't find enough work to keep me busy. Also. I feel the shortage 06 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 1 1 ■ mi m 'm ^i 4! ' I, '*» I -I.' I" of food. What do you say to joining me in a little trip townwards, to-night, and helping ourselves to a few hundredweight of Sir William Howe's supplies? " " Why, it sounds absolutely mad," said David. " No, only wild," returned Barnabas. " Risky, of course, — but neither mad nor hopeless. I know that a wagon-train of dressed beef and flour is to be hauled in to-night from a schooner that has gone aground some miles from its destination. The schooner is breaking to pieces and Howe, with his usual clearness of mind, has ordered the cargo to be salvaged and brought in by land instead of by water." ** How did you learn this? " " I spent yesterday and to-day down in that part, and on the coast, scouting in the disguise of a sort of long-shore loafer." " Lord ! You ran a tremendous risk ! " " Perhaps so," replied Barnabas, smiling lightly. He knew, however, that the risk had not been seri- ous. That part of the country was considered to be quite safe from the raids of the half-starved, half- frozen patriots of Valley Forge and so was indif- ferently treated by the British pickets and patrols. There was nothing there for the rebels. Barnabas knew that, even had he blundered into suspicion and CAPTAIN BARNABAS BRADFORD 07 arrest, he would have been in no clanger of hanging for a spy. A word from Temple to the general ! — I e would have been set free in a minute. *' Well," he continued, " I heard the talk of the men who are to get the cargo out and I saw the schooner. Then I made a study of the road they are to haul on — and of another road and a trail or two. See, here is a rough map." David took the sketch and studied it with interest. " What is your plan ? " he asked. " Then you'll join me? " " Yes, if it seems at all possible to carry it out and obtain some food." Barnabas leaned forward and spoke rapidly, but in a low voice, for several minutes. " Will the general allow us to risk the men ? " asked David. " We have not any time to lose in asking him," replied the other. " If we fail we'll call it recon- naissance, and if we succeed we'll not have to de- fend ourselves, you may be sure. Ten men are all we need. You pick five from your company and I'll take five from mine. I have the other things ready — and then twelve horses. The poor nags ! We'll not do much galloping until we head for home. Bring your men to the big rock in fifteen minutes. We must warn the pickets we pass not to open 1 I' 1 !1 ' i! ! f ■II 98 A SOLDIKR OF VALLKY FORGE fire on us if they hear us returning in a hurry — perhaps with more horses tlian we started out with." David selected five men from liis company. The httle party ^oi away without mishap. There was snow on the j^round, but the nij^ht was fairly mild and the sky chnulcd. i-'aint stars cast a fitful, half- radiance over the white fields, shadowed valleys and black woods. Tiiey rode slowly, for the horses were not in die pink of condition and so had to be saved for brisker work later. .As they advanced. Captain Bradford explained his plan of actidti. Tickets and guards were pas.sed without any tronble. Bodi Barnabas and Da\ id knew the country well; so, after a couple of hours' slow jog-p^ing the main road was left for a narrov/ trail. By midnight the little troop halted and the two officers dismounted and went forward on foot. Sounds of laughter, swear- ing and shouted orders reached the ten men stand- ing motionless at their horses' heads. The captains returned in about twenty minutes. " Just as I cxiiectcd." said Barnabas " A drunken ser: Lil CAPTAIN BARf ABAS BRADFORD 101 the wagon-horses, half the journey was accom- phshetl. In that time '.wo short cuts had been made through the woods on tracks of the roughest de- scription. On these occasions David and his men had gone back to hdi) pusli and drag the wagon through. N(-)w, with half of tlicir journey done, they were safe from attack in froiit. They rested for half an hour, then pressed forward again, all keeping close to the precious load. David held out his hand to Barnabas. " I sincerely congratulate you," he said. " It we*^ ^'.le bit of work." Ba .labas clasped his hand. " There was really very little risK, after all," he replied, modestly. Then, with a low reflective chuckle, " I expect to go through with more dangerous games than this proved to be, before this trouble is ended," he added. " Then I hope your luck will hold," said David, cordially, " and if you think I can help you, just call on me." Barnabas thanked him, smiling. " If the young fool understood what I am talking about," he thought, " I believe he would leap on me and break my neck without a moment's hesitation." " Hark ! " exclaimed one of the men. " What's that noise ? " !h ; I } I 1 1 102 ri A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ':t: -i I They halted ; and for a httle wliile nothing was heard except the blowing of the weary horses. Then David spoke. " 1 hear it. Ve.s — hark to that." " (iallopiiig horses — far away." Xot so far. The smnv deadens it." " We had better pusli on," said Barnabas. " If what we hear happens to be a mounted party of the enemy on our trail we'll know c|uite soon enough." They accomplished another mile; and by then the sounds of ])ursuit were unmistakable. The wagon c(Mitinued to roll ponderously and slowly along, followed by two horsemen. The ten others turned and rode back a distance of about a hundred yards. Mere Da\id and four men ])ressed their way into the woods. C'ajnain Bradford and his four went (jn toward tiie enemy for another hun- dred yards or thereabouts and also entered the woods. Twenty Hessians spurred their winded horses along the rough track. The horses were fagged, the men lired, twig-torn and disheartened by the bom', the snow and the unfamiliar couiurv. Thev cursed freely. T heir mounts kicked, stumbled, al- most lay down in the miow. They would have given up the chase an hour ago, but \i r tlie F.nglish lieutenant who rode in front '.vi h tlieir own officer. CAPTAIN BARNABAS BRADFORD 103 By now, liowever, even the oaths and taunts of the Enghshnian could not turn the Hessian captain from liis determination to retire. He shouted a command and the twenty hussars lialted and dis- mounted. "Another mile!" screamed the Englishman. "One more mile and we have them. By ! captain, don't you know your duty ? Are you con- tent to be beaten by a handful of half-starved, half- armed colonial farmers?" " Very gontent. Herr Danby," replied the cap- tain, who did not speak English fluently. " Dem gontent, mine frien'. Absolute! " " But there is no danger." stormed the English- man. " All we have to do is overtake them. They'll run into the woods like hares." " Herr Lieutenant." returned the Hessian cap- tain. " me an' mine prave poys, we lofTs danger. We eats him. Me?— I lifTs on smoke and plood." He gave r. command and swung into his saddle. His men scrambled into theirs. All pulled their horses round for home. " Slow, mine prave poys. No hurry-up." cau- tioned the captain ; but at that moment four mus- kets and two pistols bellowed in the underbrush. With a yell of dismay the twenty hussars dug in their spurs and. with their captain in the van, went i 'i ' i « 1' I'- * I i m I !■ il 4- I if! } 1 I i >l I ■ r If : 104 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE down the road at a mad gallop. Behind rode the Englishman, screaming curses at them ; begging them to hall and fight ; threatening to shoot them. Another volley rang from the woods behind — David's contribution to the Hessian stampede. The sun was red along the hilltops in the east when the loaded wagon and its escort crawled into the camp at Valley Forge. The twelve heroes of the raid were received with ringing cheers. CHAPTER VII AMONG THE FLESHPOTS OF PHILADELPHIA Anne Bradford had her habitation in Philadel- phia with her father. She had made the voyage to Halifax two years before, at the time of the Eng- lish evacuation of Boston; but later she had fol- lowed the fortunes of her loyal father and the Brit- ish forces back to New York and, later still, to Philadelphia. During all these shiftings Temple had not lost sight of her for more than a few weeks at a time. He was still the gentle, hopeful, deter- mined suitor for her hand ; but he was not her only admirer among the British officers. Even in his own regiment he had three rivals. Though not the only one, he was the most graciously received by all. Anne liked him, admired him --nd valued his friendship highly; but her love burned unwaver- ing before the memory, and the hope, of David. She wondered that David had not managed to com- municate with her. in some way, in reply to that note of hers of nearly three years ago. She won- 105 106 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE m\ I! !! i'l dered and grieved, but she trusted. Perhaps his communications had miscarried. What more hkely? So she prayed for him every night and morning, kept her dreams and longings secret and showetl a brave face to her father and the gay world that shut her in from her lover. And so it had bcTn for close upon three years, amid changes, travels and the glitter and nnisic of a pleasure- chasing, arrogant military and Tory society. About a month after the night of the audacious capture of the royal provisicjti-wagon while Gen- eral Washington continued to hold his figged army together at Valley Forge and General Sir William Howe continued to wait f(jr that army to starve to death and so peacefully return to its original elements, a great dinner-party was going forward in Sir William's house in Philadelphia. Four o'clock was an extreniel) fashionable dinner hour; but th.e British general-in-chief had improved on the fashion, and caused a great stir among the ladies, by nann'ng five o'clock as the hour for this dinner. Some conservative dames criticised this innovation severely — among themselves, of course; but when the new, outrageous hour struck, and the atmouncement was made by the general's butler that diinier was served, every guest was found to be present. The company was a < istinguished one. mm AMONG THE FLESHPOl'S 107 Here were the officers of the army, of various ranks, who stood high in Sir Wilham's good books at the moment. As many officers had sent home for their wives and daughters to join them in the rigour of a Phikidelphia campaign, some of these ladies were of the company. But a third of the company was made up of loyal Colonials and the women-folk. The Bradfords were present; but it is an undeniable tact that John was the least di.s- tinguished person at table. The other Loyalists were all his superiors by birth, by achievement — by everything but wealth. Here were gentlemen who fought actively for the cause in which they believed, who raised and commanded regiments in that cause, and who later moulded the fine begin- nings of the northern British provinces of New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Ontario. Thej- were strong men who gave their lives and their money to what they considered a just cause — the unity of the British Empire. Losing in their old homes, they and their families carved out a new empire for the Crown in the wilderness to the north. They were not men of John Bradford's stamp e.xactly. They and their loyalty differed from him and his loyalty. They stood by traditions — John by his money-bags. Eventually John died in Boston, with his property intact, the while these loyalists of an- 108 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE other and finer quality built new homes and empires in the north, stood to their original colours and left their names in history. All this, however, lies be- yond my story. John Bradford was an honoured guest at General Howe's dinner-table even if his name is not now to be found in history; ruid what the shrewd and anxious mtrchant lacked in dis- tinction his beautiful daughter more than made up. The room was warm, and, as was the custom of the time, the tal)le was actually loaded with a variety of rich dishes. Anne, seated between Tem- ple and her father in all that glitter, laughter, warmth and luxurious (lisj)lay of wines and food, could not keep her mind away from thoughts of David and the rebel camp at \"a!ley Forge. Phil- adelphia was aware of the half-clrid. half-fed con- dition of that camp, for deserters — the weaklings of the patriot cause — had brcmglit in graphic de- scriptions of it Outside, an icy wind blew, puffing the bitter snow before it in clouds. .\nne pictured the frozen valley, the straggling huts of logs, David WMiarton, crouching close to a fire, numb with cold and hunger. What would a plate of this food mean to him? — a glass of this .Si)anish wine? Comfort, at least. The casing of actual pain, per- haps — and yet she had already eaten enough food and did not care for the wine. If she could but AMONG THE FLESHPOTS 109 U^ give this to her lover! — feed hiin — hold the j:^Iass to his lips ! And he was cold ! — shaking with cold somewhere outside in the bitter dark. But the bit- ter dark was clean — cleaner than this warm glow- ing radiance of candles, silver, gems and gleaming raiment. A sudden faintness assailed her. She turned a colourless face to her father. " Take me away," she whispered, " I am faint." She stood up, swaying a little. Mr. Bradford slipped an arm about her waist and took her quickly from the room into the narrow hall. " Not here," whispered .\nne. " It is hot. And the servants — and the clatter. I must sit down — in a cool place." " The room in front, on the right," said Cap- tain Temple. " It is ([uiet and cool." They found the place without difficulty and the young woman sank upon a chair by the window. It was a little room, furnished with a few chairs, a writing-table, a faded carpet, and lit only by the flames of a moderate fire on the hearth. " What can I get you, dear? " asked John. " Nothing. It was the heat — and the food. So much food — and others have none ! T feel stronger already, father. It is cooler here." " I am afraid you are not well, Anne," returned the merchant, anxiously. "The [,.ik slips so 4f #4 ■ A' I I i! ::| 'I I 1 \i %i ) ■( nn n .'■ 110 A SOLIJIER OF VALLEY FORGE quickly from your cheeks. I have noticed it many times of late." " No! no! I am perfectly well; but 1 need fresh air. This little room is cool and pleasant. I feel much better now." Captain 'rem])le entered the room, carrying a tray in one hand and a lighted candle in the other. On the tray were a goblet of water and a small glass of brandy. " I made your excuses to Sir William," he said, " and f have brought these myself, thinking you might not care to be bothered by a servant. A sip of the brandy. .Anne! It is tlie general's best I assure you. It will brisk you up like magic." Anne shook her head at the brandy but drank a little of the water. " It was nothing but the heat of that room," she said. " I siiall rest here until >iie dnmer is over. It is so f|uiet here, and cool. Father, you must go back to the company now — and you, too, George." " I'll wait a few minutes. You may want some- thing more," said Mr. Bradford. " They can do very well without me. for a little while," said Temple. " Tl-. fact i>. I'm demmed glad to be out of that room myself, for a little quiet and fresh air! " ex- '^-OA^ AMONG THE FLESHPOTS 111 claimed Bradford. " It's a great honour to sit at Sir William's table, of course — a very great hon- our for a simjjle merchant like me — but I could do very well. Captain Temple, without so much fine feedin" and junketin'. I'd like to see the general giving his mind more to the field of battle and less to the dinner-table." "Not so loud, sir! Not so loud. I jjray you," cautioned Temple, with a smile. " It is not polite to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Mr. Bradford." " Then I'll si)eak lower, George," returned the merchant. " So long as I say what I have to say, that's all I care about. I want to ease my feelings. This war will last till the crack of doom if the army does not change its methods. What sort of war do you call it, anyhow? Cards, dinner, dancing and cards! Pomp and vanity; food and wine; wine and food! Bah! 1 could do better myself." Captain Temple flushed slightly and smiled at Anne. But for Anne, John Bradford would have heard the Englishman's opinion of the Bradford variety oi loyalty as compared with the loyalty of the other Colonial gentlemen even now enjoying Sir William Howe's hospitality. These gentlemen thought as Bradford did, beyond a doubt — but in- stead of blustering about the English inactivity they set the English an example of energy anrj I n '* ?i '' r ^f- if s" - i 112 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE daring; an example uliich, by the way, was ig- nored. So 'I'cmplc rtusfied, smiled at tlie woman lie loved and held his peace. John continued his ar;i,nnnent. " .\ little less drinking of His Majesty's health in the city parlours anil a little more chasing of His Majesty's enemies over the helds and through the woods is what I recommend. But 1 am not a soldier — just a poor merchant and the son of a farmer! " " To tell you the truth. Mr. Bradford. I am very glad the general holds to such mild and comfortable methods of coiKjuering the rebels." rejjlied Temple, good-humouredly. "I enjoy a fair fight; but I am not such a beast as to enjoy spilling the blood of such men as Washington's force is com[)osed of. They are weak with cold and luinger. Half of them are without cloaks or great-coats and half without !x)ots. They are short of powder — of everything but an amazing, pathetic courage. They never refuse a fight : but it is enough to wring a heart of stone to see them stand up to receive a charge. No. Mr. Bradford, T have no stotUc^ch for that kind of work. I am with Sir William in the hope that starvation may scatter them, or that some other way than slaughter may bring them to their senses. They are of English blood, after all; and AMONG THK FLESHPOTS lis when the Hessians j^ct mixed up with them my heart is all with the cnotny — with viic men of my own race." " That is all very well f(ir poetry." returned Mr. Bradford, "hut it is demmcd poor sense! Yes, sir — more the talk of a iK)ct than a soldier. Get after 'em, say I! Ride 'em down! Cut 'em to pieces! Fight, sir. Put the cold and heavy iron to 'em — sahre, hayonet, powder and lead — or, by the Lord Harry — they'll keep you hedged 'round your dinner-tables until the pit of hell freezes over." "My dear sir, what a fire-eater you are!" re- torted Captain Temple, laughing a little. "Fudge!" exclaimed Bradford. "Well, Anne, as you do not seem to require my assistance I'll just step back to the table. Slow as Sir William is, no doubt he'll accomi)lish his task some day; so I must keep on the right side of him. I shall need his help, no doubt, to get redress of los.ses from Parliament — especially as my worthy son Barna- bas is proving himself such a lusty rebel. Can't understand Barnabas! Has the leopard changed his spots? I trow not! " Mr. John Bradford left the little room and marched back to his seat at the commander-in- chief's dinner-table. As the door closed behind •31 ijri ii 1 '\ I 3, ■f * -I III ■II I ifi rj;c." " My dear Antic! " he expostulated. " What an idea! I consider him an honest man — and a lov- ing father tu you, niy dear lady." " F.ven s(., you do not think very highly of him." " Well — I do not con.sider him a hero, exactly." " Who are the heroes of this trouhle? " " The rehel general is one — W\ashington, I don't deny it. Our old friends the Whartons are of heroic fihre. Among tiiose poor, mistaken devils there are hundreds of misguided heroes. And on our side? — well, our heroes are Colonials, too! There are four or five of them in the dining-room. now — hut not my honest Mr. Rradford. .\nne." " No, my father is all for him.self," she replied, quietly. " He has not much imagination. He can- not dream great dream.-., li^ - the great loyalists and the great rehels. They think of nations — and he of his money-hags." She sighed. " And you think Washington a hero? " " Yes. A mad one ; hut a hero. He is a rebel against his king — hut a great soldier and a fine man." ".And yet — and yet you wo-.ild capture him? T.ead him to trial hy his enemies? " " Yes — for he is the rebel-chief and T am a AMONC. THE FLESHI»OTS 116 King's officer. It is my duty — and chance seems to have selected inc as her apcnt in tliis matter. W^ith VV^ashin^ton captured, the war is ended. I am sorry for Washington; but tlie good will far outweigh the evil." " You are right, no douht," replied Anne; "but T am sorry I listened to Barnabas. But I fear him so — and he gave me his promise, on the Bible, that if I did my part he would never again perse- cute me or my father. My part was to ask you to help him in his design — and now 1 wish to God my tongue had withered in my mouth before I had asked you ! " " Anne! Anne! are you. too. a rebel? " " No, I am not a rebel. Let the King have what is his. I say, and govern his own justly. But even you have said that my father is an honest man — and my mother was a cousin of one of those i^rcat Loyalists in tne dming-room yonder. She was noble — by the New F.ngland standard of nobility. And now T have plotted with a traitor against a hero! Is that noble? — or even honest?" The blood brightened in Temple's thin cheeks. " My dear." he said, " the sword with which you wound yourself is double-edged. You cut me deep, Anne! " " No, I do not mean that. It is your duty to ijr S u 1 • P si" 116 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE serve blindly in this matter — to serve, no matter what the tools that come to your hands. You arc an Enghshman, and pledged to the King-. But if warfare is not a woman's work, what right have I tt) assist in bringing this war to a close .^ The risk is not mine. Mine is the hidden hand — the ct)ward's work hut deadly stroke! Y^oii go openly in the uniforni that lets the whole world know you for Washington's enemy; but I — God! what business have / with redcoats or blue! Fven Bar- nabas does not take so ignoble a part as I — for he runs a great risk — is exposed to the danger." "Barnabas!" exclaimed the Englishman, harshly. " He is a traitor! — a liar! — a rogue! " " -And yet our companion in this plot to capture Washington and ruin the cause of the Continen- tals." " Ves — he is my associate in the scheme. But, he is not yours. .Anne! You have tiothing to do with it. You but delivered a message to me. If we lose, or if we win. your hands are clean of the dust of victory or of defeat — you are clean of as.sociation with that black traitor!" " Clean ? " she whispered. " You may be gener- ous enough to call lue so. George; but what I have already done — what I did for fear of Barnabas — cannot be undone." AMONG THE FLESH POTS 117 " You are overwrought," he repHed, tenderly. " Vou are still weak from the heat of that room. And you hpve been brooding over this thing. All ihac you d'd, Anne, good or evil, was give me a message from — from the miserable fellow who has been given me by chance as a tool. But I, too, am SOI ry that the message should have come to me through you. The thing must be carried through, though — and the sooner the better, say I." At that moment, above the muffled sounds in the had — the clatter of dishes and the passing and repassing of servants — breaks the clang of a heavy door. Both heard it in the little waiting-room. " The front door," said Captain Temple. " It is not a l>elated guest, so it must be business of some sort. Report of a skirmish, perhaps, or of a spy captured." Someone rapped on the door that led to the hall. " Come in," cried Temple. An orderly-room sergeant entered and stood at attention. " Beg pardon, sir," he said, " but the officer of the day has sent on a rebel officer and his escort, sir, under flag of truce. He wishes to see the General, sir, concerning the immediate exchange of our Major Burton for the rebel Major Carr." ill m hit.' 118 A SOLDIER OF ViiLLEY FORGE '■ Show the ofificer in here and give his escort cover in the carriage-house," rephed the captain. " I will go and speak to Sir William." " Very good, sir " — and the sergeant retired. IVnipIc took Anne's right hand, stooped swiftly and touched his lips to it. " Shall 1 take you back now? " he asked. " The diiHKT must be nearly over — all but the port and punch." " No, the room is too warm." "Then to the drawing-room? The ladies will soon join you there." " No, no. Leave me here where it is cool and quiet." " But this stranger^ This rebel officer?" "^ do n(;t think he will bite me, Ge(jrge — and you may be sure that I shall not harm him." " Have it your own way, Anne: but very likely the poor devil is hungry enough to bite you." Temjjle left the room. The fire had fallen, by now, to bars of crimson and scarlet coals. The single candle, in its squat silver stick, scarce illu- minated more than the table, in the centre oi which Temple had placed it. Beside the candle stood the tray with its t\.o glasses containing the tasted water and the untasted brandy. Anne sat in the shadow, 1 AMONG THE FLESHPOTS 110 by the black scjuare of the window, gazing at the candle's smoking llanie. The candle needed snuff- ing; but she did not notice it. " I wonder — 1 wonder if this oftker c"n tell me anything of David," she w^hispered. The door opened and a tall, cloaked figure en- tered. " Will you be pleased to wait here, sir? Captain Temple has gone to the general," said the orderly- sergeant. " My men? " began the visitor. " I have received orders to find them shelter, sir." The door closed. The rebel ofTicer crossed the room to the hearth. Standing there, the subdued lights of falling fire and unsnuffed candle disclosed him dimly to the woman at the window. She could see the torn boot which he advanced to the glowing coals, the long folds of his cloak, a gloved hand, the gleam of a trailing scabbard. His shoulders and face were in the upper shadow. She felt nerv- ous — almost frightened. He thought himself alone in the room and so leaned against the chim- ney and sighed desolately. Suddenly he turned and put out a hand to snuflF the candle. He accom- plished it neatly with a gloved thumb and finger. The flame returned, clear and steadv. Anne, watch- »5li i '} 11 1< mfi m n I k i 'I i ; (■■ 1 ! ::N:y: I'* r M . - 4 120 A SOLDIER OF VA V FORGE ing the man wi'lli anxious fascination, as if spell- bound, saw liis hand go out to the little glass of brandy. The high collar of his cloak wa-^ hooked at the chin and hid the side of his face to his cars. The hand that lifted the glass trembled vio- lently. " Brandy! " he whispered. " Fire and strength! My God! — but FlI have none of it. uninvited." He replaced the glass on the tray. "Oh. please!" exclaimed Anne. "Please drink it. You need it, I know." The officer turned swiftly and faced her. His back was against the steady, subdued light of the candle. Standing thus, and muffled in his great coat, he looked like a black, gigantic shadow. " Who is there? " he whispered. " Ah! a lady. Your servant, madam." " I am John Bradford's daughter. You — you are an officer of General Washington's, sir? " " Yes. Miss Bradford. At your service." His voice was little more than a thick whisper. " Tlieii tell me — if you know anything of — David Wharton." " Wharton ! Yes. T know of him. We are close companions." " Ts he well — and happy? " "He is in fair health — and as happy as — AMONG THE FLESHPOTS 121 as some of us. He has his work. Why do you ask?" " We were — friends." "Friends?" " Yes. Very, very dear ; i iends." The man stepped forward. "Anne!" he exclaimed. "Anne! For God's sake! — what do you mean? Is this another — joke? " "Davy! You!" In a second she was standing before him, close to him, eyes and hair aglow in the twilight, white arms and breast agleam — a glorious, intcjxicating vision to the man from Valley Forge. His love leaped up in his blood and brain like fire. He trembled, but stood motionless. " You said it was all a joke Why do you look at me so? It was — a cruel joke." His voice was low and flat. " .\ joke? Why do you speak so to me. Daw? \Miy — why stand there — so coldly? " " You sent Barnabas back to the farm, that day, to tell me it had all been play on your part — all a joke ! Have you forgotten it ? Have you forgotten even your joke at my ex- pense? " " It is a lie! Davy — it is a lie! Why did you i'i V ^M i '• i ■ ' i li '■ V I 4 ■ I ' i I 1,1 ■M-' . ,1^ i» Til' I .. 122 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE trust him? I sent a written message, that day — to tell you it was all true — my love for you." " My God • And now ? And now, Anne ? " " I have not ehanged." He crushed her to his breast and pressed his Hps to her bright and fragrant liair. He felt strong, now. The need of brandy and external heat had passed. Line glowed to hini. through his weather- worn cloak and shabby uniform, from Anne's slen- der body. He felt the caress of her fluttering breath upon his throat. Anne, with her face pressed to that rough cloak, smelt there the wild bitterness of the smoke of many bivouac fires, the clean, harsh fragrance of frost, the finger-marks of snow, rain and wind. And this, she reflected, was sweeter and manlier than the odour of over-crowded, candle lit rooms and rich foods. They heard a sound at the door. Arms were un- clasped. David turned and stepped forward to the table. .\nne glided to her seat by the window. An orderly entered. " Tlie general's compliments, sir." he said, " and he begs you to come to the dining-room, sir. The ladies have wn'thdrawn and he is alone with the gentlemen, "ir." AMONG THE FLESHPOTS 123 David followed tlie man from the room. The door closed behind them. Anne leaned forward in her chair and touched her forehead to the cold glass of the window. ■' Will he come back?" she whispered. " Shall I see him again before he goes ? Oh ! 1 must ! I must! He goes back to danger and hardship — and the frozen darkness." She left her chair and went over to the hearth. She placed a slender, satin slipper on the tile where his heavy, worn riding-boot had rested such a little while before. There was a little pool of water on the tile — of melted snow and frost. The chill moisture of it crept through her thin slipper and the inner silk. She rejoiced in the discomfort of it. Tears sprang into her eyes. " I must — I shall — see him again before he leaves this house! " she said. The door opened and Captain Temple looked into the room. "What? You are still here, Anne!" he ex- clamied. " The ladies have left the table to the wine-bibbers. The dancing will commence in half an hour." He entered and crossed the floor to her side. She turned her face to him. "Good Heavens! how beautiful you are," he I i i It m m H i ./ ^1 ^ 1 . ' if 124 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE whispered. *' What has happened? Your eyes are as bright as stars. Anne, your cheeks i pink as roses." " Have you seen the rebel officer, George? " she asked. " Yes. It is our friend, David Wharton. He is Captain Wharton, innv — and a denuned fine, up- standing young man ! But why are your cheeks so bright, dear .Anne? Is — is there any hope for me — if I ask you again, now? It is days and days, dear, since last I asked vou." He took one of her hands between both of his. She did not withdraw it. " George, T have seen the rebel — and spoken with him," she said in a shaking voice. " Don't you understand? Ah. please understand, my dear friend ! " " .Anne ! You have told him of — of the plot against — ? " "Xo! No! That — T forgot it. But do you think my heart is of wood? Why — why have I not learned to? — Oh, George, don't you see that I love him ! — have always loved him ! " "'My God! Who is it, Anne? What d'you mean? " "1 love — David Wharton. .And he loves me. Long ago Barnabas told him that — that I did not ■"'.0,.'» AMONG THE TLESHPOTS 125 really care -and so, for these three years I have received no word from him." Captain Temple did not indulge in a second out- burst of dismay. He was very quiet. His face was in the shadow. He patted the hand that lay between his own, then released it gently. He turned away and so stood, motionless and silent. The girl's heart smote her. " Please, plea.se forgive me — if I have hurt you," she whispered. " I have always told you — you know, my dear friend — that I did not love you. But it is my — my wicked fault. I should not have allowed myself to — to even like you! " ■' No. It is entirely my fault," he answered, quietly. " I do not regret it — not a minute, nor a pang of it! But you must remember, my dear, that though another man has won the — the honour of being your lover, I still claim the honour of being your — friend." " I hold it precious," she replied, faintly. " My friend; and you are his friend, too?" " Yes. In another — degree. All the Whartons are my friends." He turned and kissed her hands, and turned away from her again before she could see his face. " You will want to see him again before he rides back to Valley Forge," he said. " So I will go to i I? :■ I I t.i if « ' it. I Hi 126 A SOLDIER OF V\M,FY FORGE the dining-n.0111 now, ami when Sir William is done with him 1 will — hring him here." lie crossed the room swiftly and opened the door. On the threshold he turned and Ixnved, then stepped back in the f'eam and shadows of tlie hall and closed the door. liirl i 1 1 i CHAPTER VIII CAPTAIN DAVID WHARTON AND THE TWO GENERALS Sir William Howe, commander-in-chief of the King's forces in America, received General Wash- ington's representative with every mark of pohte- ness, bowed him to a chair at the table, and forced him to take wine, first with himself (Sir William), and then with the company in general. He then heard what Captain Wharton had to say, read the communications from Washington, scratched his nose and nodded his head. " Very fair, very fair indeed," he said. " And demmed civilly stated. The man is a gentleman, evidently. Yes, yes, of course! " " Am I to take back a verbal or a written mes- sage, sir?" asked David. " Both, my dear sir, both," returned the general. " 'Tis an important matter. I shall be delighted to make the exchange — to-morrow, if convenient for you to bring in your prisoner. You must give my compliments to your commander, George Washing- 127 f!l! V V-'- If; ' I ! 128 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ton. and ti.ll Iiiin that, if "twas iiut tor the miscon- struction the biisybodies in I'jigland would put on the act, Td he proud to have iiiin to diinier with nie. l-'ill your j;lass. my dear sir. 'Tis a ^ound vintajje. 1 asMue you. Barrin<;ton. a (luill, paper and ink! faptain, try that guava jelly, fresh up from Bar- hadoes. It is a }j[ood jelly. Come. sir. don't feel shv of my wine and jellies. I atii not your enemy while you sit at my mahoj;any-tree. \'auj;hn, I fuid that punch a thought heavy, to-night — ay. and a thought too sweet. Judge W'inslow. yt)ur healtii ! C'.entlemen. remember your legs! There's dancing ahead of you." Captain Barringtun. .\. I). C, arrived with pen, ink and paper. He cleared dishes and glasses aside froin in front of the general and put down the writing materials. Sir William tlipped the pen and scjuared his el- bows. " Now, how tlie devil am I to begin? " he asked, plucking his lips. "Let me see. My dear Sir? My dear Rebel? My dear Mr. Washington? Demn it! how am I to begin?" " Whv, sir. how does he address you? " inquired one of the Loyalists. Sir William took up Washington's communica- tion and read : — "To His E.xcellency, Major- liiil- mv i o^n;. CAFFAIN r \W WHARTON H9 General Sir William Howe, K. C. B.. etc., etc., Comniandcr-in-oliicf of Ili.s Britannic Majesty's Forces in North America." " Very civil," said the Loyalist. " And how does he sign himself? " " Your R.\cellcncy's Inimble. obedient servant to command, George Washington. Commander-in- chief of the .\rmy of the Republic of the United States of America." " Very civil. Sir William," remarked Judge W^inslow. "Yes — 1 wish he was half as civil as he sounds," returned the general. " Rut I'll not be outdone in civility by any demmed rebel this side licU — begging your pardon. Captain Wharton." " Not at all, sir." replied David, smiling. Sir William began to write, with a hand none too steady. The other gentlemen contiinied their talk- ing and drinking. Some talked and did not drink: others drank and did not talk. The general's pen squealed and spluttered and the general swore. A very large man with grave eyes and brow but a whimsical mouth, leaned toward David. " .\re you related, in any way, to Oliver Whar- ton, sir? " he inquired " Yes, sir. T am his son." answered David. A ■:fr ii 1 ■« •a m I lit 130 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE The large gentleman put out a large, wliite, finely shaped liand and clasped that of David. " Oliver and I were classmates at Harvard, aiid firm friends," he said. " Give him my best re- spects, captain. Ask him if he remembers Daniel Bliss." " Why, sir, for that matter there is no need of asking," replied David, cheerfully. " I have often heard him speak of you, sir — of your great size and strength — of how you once held two men at arm's length, clear of the ground — one with each hand." •' Vanity, all vanity," said Mr. Bliss, smiling. " A chance bullet, fired perhaps even by some old schoolfellow, would make no more to-do over my great bulk than over the smallest rabbit in the thicket. But why do you look so happy, young sir? Egad, you smirk and glow like a victor — or like a bridegroom. Has General Howe surrendered to you?" " No, sir. General Howe has not surrendered to me." " Ah-ha ! my lad. T am young enough to catch your tune. So you find time, off there in the snow — but here is my worthy Mr. Bradford." John, seeing David so well received by the gen- eral and the notables, had at last left his chair and CAPTAIN DAVID WHARTON 131 advanced to claim acquaintance with the rebel. The two shook hands. " I trust all the members of your family are well, David," said John. " You yourself look exceed- ingly thin." " He is engaged in exceedingly thin work," said a grim-faced Loyalist named Isaac Allen. " I know how thin it is, egad ! I have been out there myself. Captain Wharton, you may have seen something of ' Allen's Orphans?' " " Yes, sir, I have met some of them. I was try- ing to flank three guns one day, with my company, when I met a company of your regiment in an adder-swamp. But for that meeting, sir, the guns would have been mine." Colonel Allen chuckled. " I like you, my boy," he said. At this point the general held aloft a folded and sealed paper and cried, "Here you are. Captain Rebel ! Here's a polite letter for your commander. I've asked him to send you in with the major, for you're a man of sense and wit. sir — a most com- panionable young man. What you have to look so demned merry about I don't know; but. I like it, sir ! I like it ! Another glass, captain. Gentlemen, prime your glasses." Every glass was filled. I: } it 182 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE "A toast," said Sir William. Everyone gOt to his feet; but some, perforce, leaned heavily against the edge of the table. " Captain — gentlemen — here's to the end of this condemned, unnatural, footlin" war! " c.ied Sir William. Every glass was emptied in hearty agree- ment with the sentiment; but, owing to trembling hands, much of the good wine went stray. David put down his empty glass, bowed low to the general, to the right, to the left, strode to the door, turned there and bowed again. " Good night. Your Excellency. Good night, gentlemen all." " Good night to you. my merry rebel. Come again to-morrow," replied Sir William, waving his hand. David found Temple waiting him in the passage. They shook hands cordially. " I'll send word for your escort to be at the door in five minutes," said Temple. " In liie meantime, Anne wishes to see you — again — before you go." Their glances met. The Englishman's face was colourless and as still as a mask; the Colonial's, though thinned widi hardships, was ruddy and alive with emotion. " I am to congratulate you, I believe," said Tem- ple. CAPTAIN DAVID WHARTON 133 " It — it is good of you," replied David, huskily. " I can scarcely realize it — yet. On several occa- sions Barnabas has — " " Barnabas Bradford is a rogue and a liar," in- terrupted the other, scornfully. Five minutes later David Wharton went out to the cold and dark ; but so radiant did the world look to him (with the caress of Anne's incomparable lips still warm upon his), that he wondered why the men of his escort hunched so in their saddles. He swung up to the back of his own big, raw-boned charger. A sergeant spurred to him from his place in the little troop. " We've had a square meal. sir. and ale," he said. " and the nags have had a feed of grain." " Good ! " returned David. " In sections of four — by the right — trot — march! " When Captain Wharton was in charge of a cav- alry escort he never insulted the vainglorious horse- men with infantry words of command. The pride of a trooper, even though his mount be no more than skin and bones, is a thing to consider. It was a long ride to Valley Forge; but Wharton, riding in silence two lengths in front of his leading section, did not exchange a word with his men during the whole journev beyond slowing them to a walk where the road was bad and shaking them to a trot again r ,* ,'i I. ,1 . ai r ll i 134 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE r; where it was better. For the greater part of the journey his thoughts were busy with Anne — with the great joy that had returned so suddenly to him. Again and again he reviewed that sweet time of disclosure and revelation, and that sweet, brief time of farewell between the general's dinner-table and the cold saddle. He lived these things over again, minute by precious minute. What a miracle was this that had found him ! What a marvel was this that had come to pass! Who was he, to be thus chosen and crowned, one out of the millions of the world? He breathed her name against the collar of his cloak, where the frost was now glinting. Was this figure riding through the winter night a half-starved captain of a half-starved army? Nay, a victor-king, crowned and anointed, returning from a golden city with the golden heart of the world in his possession. In time, a pity for Temple crept into his thoughts. The Englishman's face, as he had last seen it, came clear to the eyes of his inner vision. At last his mind turned to Barnabas Bradford. He swore softly. The liar ! The cheat ! And yet — what of hi. courage? — what of liis cunning, fearless work for the Great Cause ? He remembered the night of the capture of the wagon of provisions, and many another daring deed that he had witnessed or heard CAPTAIN DAVID WHARTON 185 of. And yet the man had given a false message from his sister to her lover, and had lied since, again and again. Was he true in his present alle- giance? Was he to be trusted, absolutely, in public affiirs who was so utterly dishonourable in private matters? A rogue and a liar! Temple had said it — and Temple was to be depended upon to act and tell the truth. " I shall watch him," he muttered. " Barnabas, you lying scoundrel, I'll keep my eyes open and my mouth shut. You pretend to be my friend — and yet you have tried to rob me of all the joy of life! You must walk straight hereafter, damn you, Bar- nabas Bradford! " He was challenged by a sentry of an outpost. A word, and he rode by. " What did ye do in the town, boys? " asked the sentry of his followers. " We drank ale. We chawed on turkey bones," replied one of the troopers. " Jumpin' Jehosophat ! " exclaimed the sentry, " but you hoss-sodgers do get the fine jobs." David smiled at this exchange of pleasantries but did not turn his head. Farther on, he was halted by a picket and paused for a minute to speak with its commander. Five minutes later he drew rein in the middle of the 1 a. I ; 1 i ■ i • i . 138 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE hil I camp, dismissed the troopers, handed over his horse and went on. alone, to the small farmhouse in which General Washington had his headquarters. The time was now close upon midnight. In the snowy, trampled yard before the house a sentry paced back and forth and a corporal's guard crouched around a roaring fire, their muskets, with bayonets fixed, stacked a few yards to one side. As David opened the gate the sentry roared " Halt ! " brought his musket to the " ready " and charged toward him. " Who goes there ? " " A friend." " The countersign ? " " Unity." " Your business? " " I am Captain David Wharton, with a message for His Excellency from the British general." The sentry sloped his musket. " Pass, friend." David went up to the narrow door and knocked upon it with his gloved knuckles. It was opened by an orderly. " The general is in his ofifice, sir," said the man. " He is expecting you. This way, sir." David followed him along the narrow chilly pas- sage, and a moment later was standing at attention CAPTAIN DAVID WHARTON 137 before his beloved commander. The room, which was little more than a closet, was almost entirely filled by the big, deal table at which Washington sat. Two candles, in brass sticks, lit the table and its litter of maps and papers. The chimney seemed too large for the room and the tire too small for the chimney. A blanket was fastened, curtain-wise, across the single window. A few maps hung on the walls, forming their only adornment. A horse- pistol lay on the table, holding down a sheaf of papers. Washington, who had risen from his chair when David was announced, now stood, a tall, grim figure, with the width of the table between himself and his subordinate. The orderly retired and closed the door. " I am glad to see you safe home again. Captain Wharton," said the general, leaning forward across the table and extending his hand. His bright, grave regard did not waver from the other's face. David stepped forward a pace, pressed the extended hand and returned glance for glance. He then produced the written message from Sir William Howe. Washington broke the seal, read the communica- tion, and smiled fleetingly. " General Howe, as you already know, of course, accepts my suggestion favourably," he said. " He also mentions you, captain — wishes me to send ViiW " 1 1 '. i i. kt fi •i) !i( J . ^■i i 138 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE you in with the prisoner, to-morrow, that he may have the pleasure of another chat with you." David bowed, smihng. " The entire company of gentlemen treated me with vast kindness and con- sideration, sir," he replied. " Unfortunately," said the general, " Captain Bradford has requested the duty of taking in the prisoner and bringing out our own officer." David changed colour. This did not escape his general's keen eyes. " May I go along with him, sir? " asked David. " Two officers of your rank are not required for the duty. Captain Wharton." " Very true, sir." " Why do you wish to go? Is it for the pleasure of another chat with Sir William Howe?" David leaned forward, bringing his face into the full light of the candles. " I must tell you the truth, sir, even at the risk of your displeasure — and, perhaps, of injury to a brother-officer," he said. He paused for a moment, his eyes steady under Washington's level scrutiny. " I do not trust Captain Bradford." he added. The general's face did not change a shade in its expression of watchful and somewhat grim com- posure. " That is easily said," he remarked, coolly. " I VM k CAPTAIN DAVID WHARTON 139 hope, captain, that you can explain your statement satisfactorily — for I should be more deeply grieved in discovering in you a back-biter than in finding Barnabas Bradford untrustworthy." David bowed, his face crimson. •' Come round here by the fire and sit down. You have had a hard, cold ride," said the general, more kindly. " It was thoughtless of me to keep you standing so long. And how long is it since you have eaten ? " David passed around the table and sat down by the fire. " I had some of General Howe's guava jelly, sir, fresh up from Barbadoes," he replied, smiling faintly. " And I had wine and punch, sir. I am not at all hungry." " You must share my snack before you go — after you have explained your distrust of Captain Bradford," said Washington. So David told him. as simply and briefly as pos- sible, of Barnabas Bradford's mean and dishonour- able act of almost three years ago — and of how he had learned the truth of it only this evening. The general, who had been watching him closely while he talked, turned his eyes to the fire as soon as he was finished. For several minutes they sat silent. **M4,.im 140 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ) it 1 " And yet he pretends friendship for you," said the general, at last. " Yes, sir," replied David. " And he has told me. (jf late, time and again, that his sister was to marry Captain Temple. This seemed natural to me — fur 1 iiad lost hope. I have never asked him any (juestions about her. He lias always volun- teered the — the misinformation." " So," murmured Washington, reflectively. And then, " You have seen a good deal of his work as an officer of this army of ours? " " Yes, sir — and I admire what I have seen. He is a hard worker, clever and courageous." The other nodded. "What do you suggest?" he asked. " I have thought, sir, of saying nothing to him, at present, of what I have learned; but of watching him closely in the future ^ with eyes sharpened by the knowledge of this thing." "What is it you fear?" " An injury to the cause, sir; a design, perhaps, against your own person." " What has inspired you with the idea, captain? " " Miss Bradford's last words to me, to-night, sir — and her manner of saying them. She said ' Guard your general well.' " " And her manner ? " &a^% CAPTAIN DAVID WHARTON 141 " She seemed to be greatly perturlKnl. sir — and she repeated the words twice. I was too — too flus- tered at the time, sir, to think of asking her exactly what she meant." The ghost of a smile softened and lightened Washington's face for a moment. He leaned for- ward and. gently but with great dignity, removed something from the breast of David's cloak. He held it up to the light between thumb and finger. " A long, golden hair," he said, tenderly but un- smilingly. " Put it safely away, captain, or you may lose it." He laid it across David's sleeve, an almost in- visible thread of gold. Then he left his chair, went to the door and called for his orderly. When he returned to his seat David had recovered his com- posure. " I think your plan is a good one, Captain Whar- ton," said the general. " Watch him; but be care- ful not to alarm him. Say nothing of the matter to anyone ; and accompany him to Philadelphia to- morrow. I will put your name in Orders for the joint-duty." Two minutes later the orderly entered with bread, a jug of cider and a plate of apples. General Washington did not make any apologies for the simple fare. ■I Itf; i i ":l : E If] m 141 A SOLDIER OF \ ALl.KV I'nRf.p: It was past one o'clock ulien David at last rolled himself in his blankets and la\ ifown in his narrow bunk. He dreamed a vaiiety m dreams, some in- spiring' and others daunting Tiiroiit^di them all Barnabas Flradford stalked, black, votirageous, menacing. The mornirig was pray and milder than usual, with a hint of snow in the hea\v skies. David was inspecting his company-hospital — a log hut — when Captain P)radford entered and greeted him cheerfully. David cloaked his real feelings and re- turned the greeting in kind. " I see that you are posted with me for the duty of escorting Major Burton to Philadelphia to-day and bringing Carr home." said Barnabas. " Yes," replied David. " General Howe was kind enough to seem pleased with my conversation, last night, and asked General Washington to send me in to-day." Bradford glanced at him keenly but swiftly. Then he laughed. " T hope Sir William is not try- ing to win you over to his way of thinking." " That's his intention, I have no doubt," replied David, smiling. " But so far he has offered me nothing but several glasses of wine and rum punch — yes, and guava jelly. A square dinner, now, might win me." CAPTAIN DAVIT) WHARTON 143 "No!" exclaimed Bradford, with mock gravity. " Hold out for two s(iuare meals, a new suit of underclothing, a dozen of port and — and a step in rank. I'll do the same." " Very well. No doubt we are worth it. When are we to lUart and who supplies the escort?" " We start at ten — just two hours from now. A half-troop of Lee's dragoons for escort — the same men you had last night ; but with fresh horses. I hope. By the way, did you have any exciting adventures last night ? " " Well, n(jthing dangerous. Sir William Howe was entertaining some friends at dinner and I came in for the wine end of it." " You were in luck, Davy. Did you see anything of my people ? " " Yes, I saw your father. He was kind enough to remember me and shake hands." " The dear old man," said Barnabas, with a twisted smile. i CHAPTER IX WHY DAVID WHARTON DID NOT STAY TO DINNER II ( !t The two Continental captains, and the English prisoner for exchange, Major Burton, rode in front. Barnabas seemed to be in tlie liighest spirits, and was verv gay and entertaining. He watched David's face closely, however. Major Burton was also feeling merry; and no wonder. He v as on his way back to freedom, to his own regiment, to the wine and good-cheer of Philadelphia. The lat- ter half of the journey was accomplished in a wind- less fall of snow, but without adventure. Every- one had eaten a substantial meal at a farmhouse midway between Valley Forge and the town, and the day was not as cold as usual. Upon reaching Philadelphia and General Howe's headquarters a young stafF-officer met them. He shook hands very warmly with Major Burton, gave a receipt for him to David, and informed him that the officers of his regiment were waiting to receive him at Pott's Tavern. The freed major dofifed his hat and gal- 144 WHY DAVID DID NOT STAY 145 loped away. Then the staff-officer gave orders con- cerning the stabhng of the horses and sheUering of the men and led the two captains into Sir William's house. He showed them into the little room where David had found Anne tlie night before, and went away to notify the general of their arrival. The room was empty. The two captains stood side by side before the fire and warmed their hands. " I have heard," said Barnabas, " that Sir Will- iam Howe is not always such a merry companion by daylight as by candle-light, and that he some- times loses all recollection, during the night, of friendships made the day before." " Very likely. I think his sudden fancy for me was due entirely to the fumes of his potations," re- plied David. " I'll be mightily surprised if he re- members anything about me to-day." " Let us hope that he has not forgotten his agree- ment to an exchange of prisoners," returned Brad- ford. Just then the same young staff-ofificer opened the door and looked in. " Which of you is the senior? " he inquired. " I am the senior in the service." replied David, " but Captain Bradford is the senior on this tour of duty." 146 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE " Ah ! A nice point," said the EngHshman. " But I'll risk a decision, though I'm demmed if I know just which of you ranks in this case. Captain Bradawl, I'll trouble you to come this way." " Bradford, sir. Bradford," answered Barnabas, with dignity. " By all means, sir. Have it your own way. It is your name, not mine and it's the name of a demmed fine young woman, too. Now, in her case, I'd have no objection to changin' the name for a better — for my own, by the Lord ! " "Are you drunk so early in the day?" asked David, scornfully. " Oh ! It's you, is it ? — our guest of last night. Well, sir, an' suppose I am drunk ? — which I am not! Vou were drunk last night, I'll swear! This way. Captain Bradford. Never mind your senior- junior in the Rag-Tag army." "The miserable pup!" muttered David. "He needs his ears cropped, by heaven. I'd like to do it." Left alone he fell to pacing the room deep in anxious thought; but it was Barnabas Bradford, not the young staff-officer, who occupied his mind. "Why were we separated?" he asked himself. "What damned trick is he at, now? WHY DAVID DID NOT STAY 147 I was a fool — a gull — to let him leave my sight!" He was not left alone for more than a few min- utes. The same young staff-officer returned. " No use mopin' here, Wharton," he said. " That black-faced, piratical lookin' friend of yours is shut up with Sir William and Temple, and orders are you're both to dine here, to-night, with the gen- eral, and not start back with Major Carr until eight o'clock." "Why?" demanded David. "By the Lord Harry! this is not according to my ideas of miH- tary duty." " Seems damn polite of Sir William, tho' — and, now I think of it, that black-faced divil Brad- ford has froze his toes." " So ? He did not mention it to me ! And the day is not cold." "The>'re nipped, Wharton. But come, man! What's the use of mopin' here? My name's Stan- fell. Come out and I'll show you 'round the town before dinner. It has stopped snowin'." " You are very kind." David hesitated. " Yes, I should like to see the town." Captain Stanfell, or, to be more elaborate, Cap- tain the Honourable Faulk Stanfell. proved to be an agreeable though not brilliant companion. He was T 1 ! 148 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGF. as open as the face of a clock, as innocent ot guile as a year-old child of mustaches. He was ceed- ingly young — and admitted it. " I shouldn't be on the general's staff, of course, but for the fact that my father is an earl," he said. "I'm not a denimed bit of use to Buffeting Bill, you know — an' he knows it, too. Temple, now, is a clever fellow — demn clever ; but I can tell you one thing, Wharton, he's not clever enough to man- age." "What is that?" " Get Anne Bradford to marry him." " Why does the lady refuse him, do you think?" '■ Can't think, my dear fellow — unless it is that the beauty is really in love with me. Hah-hah! Let me take your arm. See, we are causin' quite a stir, Wharton! Dang my eyes, but I'll be the talk of the town to-morrow. Fact is. you know, Whar- ton, you condemned, ragged rebels are all the rage now. So demmed romantic, you know, campin* out there in the cold. Come! Here we are at the * Punch Bowl.' W^e'll go in and have a round." They entered the tavern, had a round, and an- other. Stan fell was for a third; but David pleaded a weak head. In the street again David said, " I WHY DAVID DID NOT STAY U9 used to know Miss Bradford, when we were both younger. Where does she Uve? " " Hell's pit ! " cried the Honourable Faulk. " Why didn't you say so before? We might have been drinkin' old Bradford's stufif instead of wastin' our money at the ' Punch Bowl.' Where does she live? Why, man, I'll soon show you! Egad, we'll go and call on her! " David turned his face away to hide from the other the exultant grin thereon. " This is very kind of you," he said. " I should like, above all things, to renew that old acquaint- ance." John Bradford's Philadelphia house was on the outskirts of the town — a very fine house, with a garden in front, yards, outbuildings and fields be- hind. An old, black butler opened the door to Cap- tains Stanfell and Wharton. He gaped at sight of the worn. Continental uniform. "Is your mistress at home, Sam?" inquired Stanfell. "Yes, sah. Yes, sah." " Any other callers, Sam? " " No, sah. Not now, sah. But Cap'n Barnabas has just left, sah." " That pirate! Well, Wharton. I'm demmed glad he's gone. Take up our names, Sam — Captain 150 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE iU t - Wharton an' Captain Stanfell. Hold! Before you go up, Sam, we'll try a glass of that punch of yours, if it's made." " Yes, sah. Alwus ready, sah. Step this way, gentlemen." So David, much against his will, was forced to step into the dining-parlour and drink a glass of punch. At last, however, the two reached the drawing-room and its mistress. Anne looked very beautiful, and her cheeks and eyes were very bright. She greeted Stanfell first, with an unusual warmth that, added to the " rounds " he had been enjoying, quite staggered him. Then, with her back to the Englishman, she clasped David's hand. She was close to him. Her bright head was almost against his shoulder. " Davy," she whispered, " you must not stay. You must ride back to your general. You must! You must ! " He looked long and searchingly into the beauti- ful, anxious eyes. " Old friend of yours, Miss Bradford," said Stan- fell. "Rude to whisper — even to old friend! Once your friend, always your lover, you know. Hah ! that's pretty neat — for me. What you call an epitaph, hey, Wharton ! " " My epitaph, I fear," said David, readily. WHY DAVID DID NOT STAY 151 " Miss Bradford has just told me that Captain Bradford was looking for me." Anne rewarded him for the lie with a grateful smile. " Let him look," replied Stanfell, arrogantly. " You are his senior in that Rag-Tag army of yours, Wharton. You told me so. Let him look, demn im! " I am sorry," said Anne ; " but my — my half- brother — seemed to be very anxious to find Cap- tain Wharton. It is a matter of importance, no doubt — of vastly greater importance than sitting here with me." " I deny it ! " cried young Stanfell, valorous with his potations. " Demme, I say nay to that ! My duty's here — you go do whatever you please, Wharton. I'm Miss Anne's humble, devoted ad- mirer first — soldier next ! " David and the girl exchanged meaning glances. " You are very brave, and kind. Captain Stan- fell," she said. "But can I get back to headquarters alone?" queried David. " Think of the colour of my uni- form, Stanfell." The Honourable Faulk laughed mightily. " Egad ! " he cried, " one has to think plagued hard of the colour of it to see any at all. But hold, "•ni aid gTMl^ ~ is^&jMijcJ^': If * It. u 152 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE Wharton ! I took you out for a walk — and, by the Lord! I'll give you a safe pass back to head- quarters. Paper! Ink! Egad, 1 will show my au- thority ! " He wrote — "Pass this officer of the Rebel Army, Captain David Wharton. Molest him not — or God help you ! He is on the business of the two Generals and under a flag of truce. (Signed) Faulk Stanfell. Captain, D. A. G., etc." " Here you are, Wharton," he said. " You won't need it, between here an' Sir William's house — but if you do, use it. Use it hard ! Knock 'em down, Wharton — an' then, when they're ready to hit you back, show 'em that pass. It'll stiffen 'em, you take my word ! " Anne accompanied David to the door of the drawing-room. " You must go, without a word to anybodyT" she whispered. " Yes, dear heart," replied David, pressing his lips to her hand. " Go right to Washington. I have heard a rumour. Do not wait for dinner." " Y'ou may be sure of that, dearest." " W^ill you use the pass? " " Not unless I have to. If I must — yes." " God speed you, Davy! " WHY DAVID DID NOT STAY 153 " God keep you, my beloved ! " Anne returned to Captain Stanfell. " Whisperin' again," said he, wagging a finger at her. She laughed softly. " You will forgive us, I know," she said. " Captain Wharton and I were old sweethearts." " I'd turn rebel myself to hear you say the same of me," said Stanfell. The early winter dusk was gray in the streets when David retraced his steps, unmolested, to Gen- eral Howe's headquarters. He did not enter the house, however, but passed into the stable-yard by way of a narrow alley. He crossed the yard and opened a stable door. He was challenged by one of his own men — one of Lee's dra- goons. •' I am not trying to steal your horses," he said. " Oh ! It's you, Captain Wharton ! " " Yes, I want my horse. Is he here? " The man called out, " Dick, is Captain Whar- ton's horse ready? " The reply came, "Yes. It has been fed and watered." " Good ! Bring it out. The captain wants it." Then, turning to Wharton, the man asked, " Did you see Captain Bradford, sir? " 154 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE \'Ai " No. Why ? Was he looking for me ? " " Yes, sir. He came here himself for his h^rse and seemed to be in a terrible rush, and in a pretty bad temper, too, sir, I should judge by what he said to Dick there, for not getting the horse out quick enough. He asked if you had taken your horse, sir." What was Barnabas up to now, David wondered. He felt like letting out a little himself on Dick, who was getting his horse out none too quickly. He must not meet Barnabas. He must get to Valley Forge without anybody knowing it, and to make this possible every minute was precious. Yet he was careful not to show too much haste. " Well, if Captain Bradford returns before I do, tell him I won't be long, that I've gone on a little afifair of my own in town." At this moment the horse was led into the yard from the stables, and David stepped out hastily to it. The men with whom he had been talking grinned knowingly after him. As he was about to get into the saddle David hesitated, then turning towards the grinning dragoon standing in the stable, he said. " This uniform : I don't suppose it would be wise for me to ride through the streets like this even if it is pretty dark. Have any of the boys got a cloak TBf-.i-««(f. WHY DAVID DID NOT STAY 155 I could borrow for a little while to cover this uni- form with?" The man looked thoughtful, scratched his chin, and replied, " Well, there's this here Englishman I know as I-, pretty well set up, 1 might - a — if I only knew where ' • was." David sprang into the saddle. " I'll risk it," he cried. " Here goes." He trotted across the yard and down the narrow I'ley into the street. It was quite dark by now, and he felt certain that by keepin^^ to the less frequented streets he would be able to pass unmolested from the town. It would be time enough for the trouble and suspicious questionings to begin when he reached the outposts. He went at a fast trot down the avenue and turned into the first ranch street that offered itself. Here he put his horse to the gal- lop. Now he was a messenger indc 1. T'erhaps the safety of Washington and of the whole cause de- pended on his getting to Valley Forge. He ached to plunge the spurs into his hor^e: to get out of the town into the open country, but he dared not attract too much attention. He thanked Heaven that the street.^ were but dimly lighted and that the new-fallen snow muffled the hoof- beats. He had been ritb'ng for some eight or ten minutes ' — ■'r ■ -^T."-. S"*5*''l Mr I ': 156 A SOLniP:R OF VALLEY FORGE before he was at last held up. There were very few people on the streets at this hour of the day, and those few people that he had passed close to had dojie no more than stop and stare after him. But finally, just as he was passing a cross street at a good gallop, a cloaked figure happened to turn the corner. David .saw at a glance that it was a British officer. He hreathed a little prayer but did not slack his pace. The officer stopped abruptly as the rebel captain swept by. Then cpiickly reccnering from his amaze- ment he shouted in a commanding .oice for him to stop. But David had no intention of doing so. He was already far up the street, and he knew the officer could do nothing but raise an alarm; and it would take time to do that. But suddenly David spied another man coming down the .street to- wards him. He drew his horse up and turned it about as though he had just heard the com- mands of the British officer. He rode slowly back to him. .\s David came up the officer asked sharply, "Who are you'" " Captain Wharton, sir." " Damn me, you're a »cbcl soldier. What does this mean ? " By this time David had come into the faint rays WHY DAVID DID NOT STAY 1.57 of the street lamp. Tlie officer stepped over to his horse. " I am on the business of Sir William Ilowe and General Washington." he replied shortly. The man, evidently an officer of high rank, was in a very bad hunKJur. He snapped out, " Dismount, sir ! " For answer David slowly put his hand into his pocket and drew forth his pass. He unfolded it and handed it to the officer. Snatching it from his hand the officer strode nearer to the light and tried to make out the small handwriting of the Honourable h'aulk Stanfell. l^-aiiing in this, owing to the dim- ness of the light and the weakness of his eyes, the man swore abundantly and shifted about here ?nd there trying to get the paper clear of shadows. Presently the man which David had seen approaching came up : the stranger seemed very anxious to get by without attract- ing notice, but the officer glanced up from his paper at this moment anegan wagging a finger at her, hoping to attract her attention. He was just about to speak when the door opened and in stepped Barnabas. Anne looked up at the sound of his step and for a moment they regarded one anotiier. Barnabas glanced towards Stanfell. " .All ! ^■ou're here then, are you ? T thouglit this might be the most likely place to find you." He grinned at his sister. " And Captain Wharton, is he here too? '" "It seem> to me you're uncommon anxious to find Wharton," said Stanfell. " This is the second time you've been here in the la.st hour to find him, and — " " No," broke in .\nne. " David left a short time ago for General Howe's." Barnabas looked at her narrowly. " What did he return so quickly for, Anne, and alone?" he demanded. " Demn me. why, of cour.se to see you," said Stanfell. " You were looking for him, but I told THE EXPEDITION 169 him not to go, I did. My duty's right here with Miss Bradford." " / was looking for him ? I wasn't looking for anybody until just ten minutes ago, when I started out in search of Wharton." The ilonourabie Faulk turned to Anne for as- sistance. " Miss Bradford, wasn't he hunting for Captain Wharton? Now, wa.sn't he? Egad, I had to get him home on my own signature." ** I'm afraid Captain Stanfell has things mixed," said Anne with a little smile. " David has returned to headquarters, to General Howe's, in search of you." Anne felt for the first time in her life at ease now with Barnabas. The storm of bitterness that was raging in her dispelled her fears of him. and every move she made against him and his evil plans was balm to her wounds. " But how could he get back alone ? " demanded Barnabas suspiciously. " Barnabas, do sit down and be quiet and stop cross-examining me." said Anne, turning on him impatiently. " Why couldn't Captain Stanfell give David a pass back lo headquarters? How do you manage to travel about town all by yourself?" Anne resumed her seat near Stanfell. ^^^^ ==^??=25^:7F HP IC^ fW .|>^^ , 7H^*:^!m^> Tyn ■ ^ MICROCOPY RlfOlUTl>->N TEST CHART ANSI ond ISO TEST CHmim No 7 !.0 I.I 1.25 m jij^ 2.5 '-^ illM 2.2 :: 1^ t 1- 2.0 *- ■ 1.8 1.4 1.6 ^ ^PPUED Ifv^GE Inc "fcO^ .„:SA ■")89 - tax 170 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ii M» »! f "And why not, Captain Bradford?" demanded the Honourable Faulk. " Demn me, why not ? I wrote him a pass that would take him to the ends of the earth ; — anywheres he wanted to go." He finished with a long sweep of the arm. Barnabas turned suddenly toward the door. " Well, I'll get back to Howe's then and find David." He glanced back to Anne. " You're tell- ing me the truth, x\nne? He has gone back there looking for me ! " " You'll find him there, no doubt," said Anne quietly. At this moment heavy steps sounded on the stairs without the door. "Who is coming?" asked Barnabas. "Ah, it sounds like the Old Man's footsteps." Mr. Bradford appeared in the doorway. He paused on seeing his son, and for a moment his face clouded, then with an evident effort he smiled. He had not yet got used to Barnabas reformed and did not trust him. " Ho, sir, you seem displeased at finding me here. Let bygones be bygones and take me as you find me to-day. We all have our little past, you know, and some have their little present, too. How- ever, I must run if I'm to catch David at Howe's." THE EXPEDITION 171 •' David? " demanded John with surprise. " Are you looking for David Wharton? He passed me this half-hour gone, riding it through the town as though the devils were after him." "Riding?" hissed Barnabas. "Where was he going? In what direction? Quick, man, towards Valley Forge? " " Yes, towards Valley Forge." " Oh, father, are you sure it was David? " asked Anne. " How could you see in this light?" " Just it, I couldn't," returned her father. " He was stopped by an English ofiicer, a colonel or something, and I had to read David's pass, the pass written by Captain Stanfell, out to him." Without a word Barnabas slipped from the room and hurriedly left the hou.se. John breathed a sigh of relief, and picked out the most comfortable chair and sank back into it. Stanfell studied the ceil- ing in some doubt a moment or two and then asked, " Did you say the officer who read my pass was a colonel, Mr. Bradford?" " I think he was," said John .shortly, unwilling to be disturbed any more. " Demn me. a colonel." soliloquized Stanfell, stroking his hair thoughtfully. " A colonel. Seems to me there's a colonel most everywhere, poking his 172 A SOLDIKR OF VALLEY FOR(.E nose into private correspondence." Soon however he forgot his trouble and sank back sleepily into his chair. I? Meanwhile Barnabas made his way, with all pos- sible speed, back to Sir William's. He immediately went t(j the stables and inquired again if Captain Wharton had taken a horse. On learning that he had, Barnabas hurried into the house and found Sir William and had a short talk with him. As they were talking Temple entered the room. "Captain Bradford says how in all probability Captain Wharton has got wind of our plans and has gone to warn the camp at Valley Forge," said the general. " I agree with him that we must act with all possible dispatch." They talked earnestly in low tones for a few minutes, then all three arose from the table. " Gentlemen." said Sir William. " We must now drink to the success of this little affair." He rang a bell, and on a servant appearing Sir William or- dered the punch. When it arrived the three sta- tioned themselves around the howl, and the com- mander-in-chief himself filled the glasses. " What this expedition means to His Majesty, to England and to every good Christian that abhors f ^. THE EXPEDITION 173 a fool war, I won't explain to you. as you already understand. Here, then, gentlemen, may it suc- ceed! " They drained their glasses. Ten minutes later Captain Bradford stood out in thf? big courtyard, chatting to different members of his troop. He took great pains that most of the men saw him before at last he went into the big unused shed, where the men were to have dinner served to them, and lay down on a bed of straw. The spacious courtyard was well lighted by big coach-lanterns stuck about here and there on short poles. Aproned cooks hurried to and fro from the steaming kitchen to the shed where the troopers were to eat their dinner. The half-starved men from Valley Forge lent willing hands to the car- rying of heavy and savoury pots. Even what little bustle and excitement that was here meant a great deal to men who had spent so many months out in the wilds. They even quite forgot their good cause for which they were such willing sufferers for the moment. A good dinner was all they were living for now, and until they had that, they would think of nothing else. They laughed, they joked, thcv sang. When a man emerged from the kitchen urder the weight of a great dish that seemed to bow him down, four troopers rushed to help him, and n W'^^ M 174 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE while all were attempting to get their hands on the dish at the same time, they jogged against the ear- ner so tliat ins feet slipped on the snowy ground, and he came down dish and all. There was a lull throughout tlie courtyard. If china was broken after dinner it wouldn't have bothered anybody much, but a crash of breaking china before dinner caused the hungry hearers the deepest of misgivings. Everybody ran to the spot. The man who had been carrying the dish, one of Sir William's English servants, after he had re- ceived the contents of the broken platter, three tur- keys and much hot gravy, over his person, got to his feet in a blind rage, and started to show the rebel ruftians what they were. The good-natured troopers, however, being sorry for the accident they had caused (and they were more sorry for them- selves, as it was their dinner, than for the man who had received so much hot gravy), gathered up the three fowls off the snow on [o pieces of the platter, and attempted to scrape the congealed gravy from the servant's clothes. They begged pardon, though quite ineffectually, over and over again, until at last, finding that it was of no avail, but that their grandnu)thers. ancestors, themselves and the cause for which they fought, were being sent to perdition as heartily as ever, no matter how energetically they THE EXPEDITION 175 scraped the gravy from their tormentor's back, they desisted and Hed fur the dinner-table to deposit the three fowls. Shouts of laugliter broke out at their retreat. Within tlie house all was light and bustle, too. It was nearing the dinner liour and Sir William was having some distinguished gentlemen, just ar- rived from England, to dine with him. Sir Will- iam was shut up in his little dressing-room, getting fretfully into his evening clothes. He was just deciding for the thousandth time that all this was a fool business and no war at all, and if England understood that other countries were not all like herself, the war would be ended in a week. He indulged in a little quiet cursing of King George and Lord North, and the English public in general, who were sitting at home criticizing and condemn- ing his work. He decided every time he got into a very bad humour that he would resign the com- mand immediately. In fact in the course of getting one boot on to a sore foot he resigned his com- mand three times and was beginning on the fourth resignation when the boot went on. Temple was occupying himself with other busi- ness than dressing for a good dinner. Immediately after liis last conference with Howe and Barnabas, he had busied himself with getting half of his troop 176 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ;i: V I!! i together. He ordered the men to go (juietly to a big emi)ty room in the back of tlie liouse. There after ten or rifteen minutes he met them and ex- plained the course of action decided on by the gen- eral ; ahhough the general was not mentioned as having anything whatever to do with this little expedition. 'IVmple referred to it as though it was all an idea of his own which he was carrying out quite independently. It was now quite dark without and Temple considered the time ripe for the first imptjrtant move. He went to the window that gave on to the ojurtyard and looked out. Most of Bradford's men were at this moment gathered about the swearing English servant, and nearly all of the rebel s(jl(liers were out in the courtyard, out of reach oi any weapons that might be lying about in the sheds. " Now." .said Temple, turning to his men, " file out quietly and take your stand as I explained to you. Let there be no bungling now and we'll have everything done quickly and cpiietly. There's not an instant to lose. Even at this mometit perhaps word is being carried to \'allcy Eorge. Our only chance is in speed." '1 he men slipped from the room, descended into the kitchen and there lined up, fifteen meti at each of the doors that opened to the courtyard. Each if •■ i I li THE EXPEDITION 177 man carried a small bundle of clothes under his arm. At a \V(jrd from Temple the two lines filed out into the yard, and formed tliemselves in a great loose circle enclosing the wliole of the open space. As they walked from the house they were taken little heed of. Everybody at that moment was watching the three .soldiers conveying the three fowls to the dinner shed. Temple's \oice rang out. " I want every man to go into the big shed there; every man of you." He sto(xl in the centre of the yard. The Americans >tared at the English officer with surpri>e not unmixed with suspicion. Re- marks and some protests w ere made here and there, but the general feeling was one of good nature even if the young Englishman's order was a little abrupt. Moreover, the dinner was laid in the same shed. As all his men came filing into the room at once, Barnabas got up from his bed of straw and de- manded of them what was up. " We were ordered in here, sir." answered the men. "Ordered in? Who ordered you in here?" de- manded Barnabas, making his voice verv fierce. At that moment Temple entered, after having posted some of his men armed with muskets at the door and windows. h it ; i 178 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE Barnabas drew himself up and looked sternly at Tenii)!e. lie couhl always play a part, and he loved the game, (le could put himself iiuo his acting to such a wonderfid degree, that when he was i)laying the hypocrite he was much more genuine than when he was content to he his ordinary self. He de- manded sternly of Temple. " Sir, what does this itiean ? " For a moment Temple was tempted to ignore him altogether. He hated this work and did it only becau.se it was his duty, and the evident pleas- ure that Barnabas derived from his devil's work sickened him. He wr^idered at that moment if the man before him had any inkling of what honour was. " I'm ju.st about to tell you. if you'll listen." answered Temple shortly. Thanks to his hate for Barnabas, he did not find it difficult to play his part. " Men — eh — gentlemen." began Captain Tem- ple, turning his back on Barnabas. " you won't be kept from your flinner ten minutes. All you must do is this. I want every man to drop his shabby uniform and put on these others in ex- cliange. He pointed to a heap of clothing which a couple of his men were piling just inside the door. THE EXPEDITION 179 There were growls of protest in every direction, and Captain Barnabas began a speech of big, indig- nant words when Temple broke in. "There!" he cried, jerking his head forward, and shooting out a hand at the men. " Shed those clothes quickly and (juietly! Do you hear? At this door are my men, well armed ; you haven't a sword amongst you. I'm here for business. Call it by what names you please, but get those clothes Ofif." " You go to Hell! " roared Barnabas, playing his part well and making a rush at Temple. " !f Barnabas is at such pains to be realistic. I ought to be realistic too," thought Temple. He jumped aside out of the way and landed out with his list on Barnabas' ear. By this time the cojumotion amongst the men caused by Temple's words was becoming an uproar. A bench or two was quickly knocked to pieces to serve as clubs, and defiance was growing fierce and loud, when Temple spoke a woi d to one of his men at the door. In ran five British troopers and stood at attention near their captain. These armed men had a quieting efTect. " Xow, gentlemen," continued the English cap- tain. " the quicker you flo this the belter. There's your dinner getting cold. You shall not be put li 180 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORCE t«. further inconvenience, 'lliese clothes you"II find better than your own." " Seize thi.s man," he ordered, turninj- to his own men and pointing' to Barnabas. Ten-plf .l.„|,,ed aside as the traitor captain catne at Inni. and all tlic anf,-ry troopers .shouted with .scornful Iauf,ditcr, thinkinp: tlie Hnglishnian afraid. Barnabas was seized by two of the Fn,-,dish troopers. " You cur." iie hissed, beside himself with now genuine fury and strugfrli„tr to get at Temple. " You dog, Temple, striking me." Temple stepped over to the end of the long dinner-table and shouted out very emphatically, " If any man refuses to o!)cy he'll be shot. That's all." He .said the " that's all " with a snap of the mouth and turned away towards the door, biting his lips. Me was ashamed of his weakness, for he felt weak at that moment. This 7.'as a trai- tor's work and better suited to the practised devil near him than to himself. .\nne's words came to his mind, " And now T have plotted with a traitor against a hero ! Is thai noble ? — or even honest ? " The words cut more deeply than ever. Then he rou.sed himself and tried to throw aside his rlouhts. After all. he reasoned, he was a man and in war and was doiiig a man's work. Tlicse fears were for women. His mind was relieved after these reflec- THE EXPEDITION 181 tions; but deep in liis heart lie wondered where was tlie feehnj; of unhinitcd strength that he always had when doinji; work that he knew to he nohle. Barnal)as. kicking and stnij,'ghng', was carried away to Ije I(.cked up. Then there followed ten nnnutes of tense stillness while the Atnericans were ed up to Temple. He rode beside him for some time without a word, as though his very near- ness to the object of his hate cased the overflow of his feelings. Temple, too, had evidently been tliink- ing of Barnabas, for he never turned his head but seemed to know instinctively who was riding beside him. In these few minutes of silence far more damning bitterness passed between these two men ■.■- V—v f '■ >j 186 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE than was afterwards expressed by their mere words. When at last Barnabas did si>eak, his voice as very deceptive in its gentleness. "Vou haven't seen the last of me." he -id. " You're goinf^- to see lots more of me." His voice was even, neither rising nor falling. "All right," said Temple very, very simply: then he fairly ex]jloded. " Damn you, devil Brad- ford ; you traitorous fiend. Ciod forbid that I ever see your face again! " He spurred his horse on a few paces ahead of the men. Barnabas laughed softly to himself and followed Temple. " You forget. Temple." he said as soon as lie got close to him, " you forget tliat this little expedition, as well as your necks, depends on me, yes. on me. Ha ! Ha ! I hadn't though^ of that myself. Why, that'll be very easy; we come to the outposts, and pass them safely, and then when we are well within the trap. I give the warning on my musket here and you fellows get cut to pieces, while I escape by a path well known to me. Ha! ha! ha! Yes, Temple, perhaps ycnir God has heard your prayer, and will forbid you ever seeing my face again." There was a short silence, during which the rhythmical tluulding of the horses' hoofs .sounded FOILED 187 ghostly indeed, for the snow-laden trees crowded closely on each side of the road: these caused a muffled sound, as of a heavily curtained room, when tlie troopers galloped by. " Now you're being honest and showing out in your true colours," said Temple at last, having re- gained his composure. " So you're a double trai- tor; I guessed as much. One thing's certain, if you play this trick now you'll hang either in Wash- ington's camp or in Howe's; it depend' upon which side you're on at the time." "Ha! ha!" laughed Barnabas. "Well, you wop't be there to see it." Barnabas gradually dropped back to his fomier place, turning over in his mind his plan of action. He had made the threat more to show Temple what he had it in his power to do, than with any intention of carrying it out. He felt that to betray the Eng- lishmen would be a dangerous way of getting ven- geance, and his reward if they succeeded was to be a good one. He decided again to bide his time. Tliey rode on hour after hour, moving at an impatient walk, now breaking again into a gallop. 71ie road was hard and comparatively even under the loose snow, owing to the hard packing of the old snow. For many miles at a time the way led ■i.r t ( 'V •111' m 188 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE through heavy forests, and then, at a sudden turn- ing, it would come out into the open sjjaces of the fields; then would twinkle the yellow lights of a farm-house. This all was of interest to the Eng- lish soldiers, some of whom had just come out from England a few weeks before. They talked and joked to their hearts" content, and made puns ten- tenths of which were ver) had. Their talk was mostly of England and the comparing of American scenery, etc., with the English. When they had covered about half the distance to Valley Eorge Temple turned aside and led the way up to a hig farm-house. A light shone from an upper window. Before they reached the door the window was thrown u]) and a woman's voice demanded who they were. Temple waited a moment in hojies that Barnabas knew the people of the house and would reply. Also he feared lest his English accent would betray him. But as his waiting i)roved to be in vain he called out. " Madam, we are American soldiers. We want to buy a li'tle feed for our horses, and something for ourselves, if you have it." " Who are you? What's your name?" " T'm Ca[)tain Morgan," he replied, giving the first rebel name that came to his memory. " We're FOILED 189 returning to Valley Forge after an examination of the riiiglisii outposts about Philadelphia." The light was withdrawn from the room and presently apjK-ared at the fnjnt door. Owing to Temple's having cautioned his men not to talk too much, and also owing to the woman's ignorance of military news, the trick worked out successfully. Food was produced for both the liorses and men, and it is needless to add heartily partaken of. But no time was wasted. .-\s soon as they were finished Temple paitl tlie woman lib- erally and ordered the men into their saddles. They took a moment to fill and light their pipes, then they stalked out of the cosy, warm kitchen with its now glowing fire into the black winter's nigln. But now they felt a great deal jollier than when they had arrived there. It was about midnight when they spied the twin- kle of the outpost fires of Washington's army. Tem- ple called a halt. and. in a voice polite as he could make it, summoned Barnabas to come to the head of the column. Barnabas obeyed. Then they rode on at a fast trot. Very likely the camp had been warned a little wiiile before. They had not had time to make strong preparations though, so Tem- i^lc decided to do the work with a dash. As they approached the fires they were challenged. 1 Il -i^ i^:V 190 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE and Barnabas answered, giving the password and a slHMi. clever explanation of their business; they were the half-troop that left that same morning, re- turning with Major Carr, who had been released to them in exchange for Major Burton. The guard although they had been vaguely warned of some approaching danger, were completely fooled. They were expecting this half-troop to return about this same hour, atul here was the half-troop, evidently by their uniforms the same men that had left that morning. Of course, the dickering light of a fire was not the best means by which to examine them. \\ ith an exultant thrill in every man's heart the little handful rode free into the arms of the evidently sleeping camp. Here around them lav a great hos- tile army, and they, this tiny bodv of horsemen, were dashing into its very midst to steal its brain away. And then, what added more to the excitement was the knowledge that perhaps the camp was not really -^leepmg. — it might be quietly waiting for them. Every man peered into the darkness about. Suddenly they were challenged. Bradford an- swered as before. Then they were ordered to stop, but Barnabas, who was now close beside Temple whispered to him to keep on. to make a dash for It, as they were now clo«e to Washington's house. Clearly to stop meant ruin. They rushed on. A FOILED 191 voice rang out, " Halt, or we fire." The daring little company gave no reply, and then the night was shaken by the crash of fifty muskets. A number of Temple's men were wounded and many of the horses, but, owing to the intense dark- ness, nothing very serious happened. Temple, who had long before got his little army into fighting form, ordered them to fire without stopping. They fired, and had better results than the rebels, for when the rebels fired they had shown themselves up clearly to their foes by the light of their muskets. The Englishmen never paused, but immediately they had fired their pieces they slung them over their backs or into their holsters and drew their swords. In a moment they were onto the waiting rebels. They too were mounted. The fight that followed in the dark was fierce and brief. Each Englishman knew what he was -apposed to do. He was to act individually: to break through the rebel line and to make for Wasiiington's house just beyond. If but a few men succeeded in getting through, and to the house, they would have a chance of seizing Washington; that is, if he was there and had not been warned. Eor the first few minutes the fight was even. The English fought with more fierceness and less like machines than usual, while the rebels fought, as 192 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ItJ " ! always, the only way these hardy farmers knew liow to fight, with all their heart. Barnabas man- aged to keep near to Temple most of the time in order to be ready, when his chance came, to slip away with him and in sume way get to tiie general's house. A couple uf times an opportunity presented it.self to them, and Barnabas tried both times to yank Temple aside out of the fight ; but in vain, the i'jiglishman was so engrossed in his honest fighting, and in his sincere attempt to drive the enemy from the field, that all the clever schemes of Barnabas had quite slipped from his mind. The traitor cap- tain, as was customary with him. quickly lost all patience, and was about to leave this fool English- man to fight and win his honourable victory or his honourable defeat when suddenly he saw Temple dash forward and disappear through the rebel lines. Barnabas grabbed at the two nearest Englishmen and ordered them to follow him, shouting that their captam had gone on alone ahead of them. The soldiers followed unhesitatingly, and the rebel cap- tain led the way by the same opening that Temple had gone by. As he rounded a sharp rise in the ground he came abruptly upon a horseman. Barnabas drew up his horse with a jerk, showing, if it had been possible to observe him, that his guilty nerves were none too FOILED 19S steady. But perhaps one could hardly hlainc thi> traitor captain for being afraid in this terrible risk that he was running. He demanded, "Who's tiiere?" and was greatly relieved when he recognized Temj)le's voice. " D(jn't be afraid, Bradford ; I'm not one of your men." .At this moment the two English troopers came up and halted, and this only in time, for Captain Temple Iiad jnst decided that the first thing to be done, now that the opportunity offered, was to punish Bradford for ever having been born ; then after that he could take Wasliington with an easier mind. But the presence of the two troopers changed his plans. He pointed with his finger, and said, " Look, there is a light. Ls he there? " The black shape of a building, a little darker than the night, was just visible. .\ faint light showed from a low, corner window of the house. Barnabas spurred his hor.se forward. " (Come and see, if you're not afraid," he called back to Temple. The three Englishmen followed him. Halting within a stone's throw of the house thev tied their horses to a couple of trees and crept for- ward to the window. Barnabas pressed his face against the glass in an effort to see into the room, 194 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE t' i , : I m\ but it was in vain, as the occupier of the room had taken pains to hang a blanket neatly over the win- dow. Presently the four kidnappers moved stealth- ily around the end of the house to the little door- way. Here again Barnabas went ahead of the others and spied out the land. The door was open, the hallway was empty and tiobody seemed to be around at this moment. A light, however, came from under the door of a room across the hall ; the room of the lighted window. The rebel captain was very suspicious of al! this silence, and the open door; he expected to find the house in commotion over the event of a night attack. He crept back to the others and reported to Temple what he had observed. Then he said, " If you want the man. Temple, I guess he's in ♦hat room. If you're not afraid come with me." All four men entered the narrow hall and went cautiously towards the closed door of the lighted room. Barnabas, more crafty than the others, kept close to the wall so that, if the door was suddenly opened, he would be out of the range of light. And well he did. The kidnappers had almost reached the door when, without any warning, it was thrown wide open. Every man froze still in the position he happened to be. and stared at the man in the door- way. It was David Wharton. Temple was FOILED 195 crouched like a stct-l spriup;, and ready, the instant Wharton should spy him, to sprinJ,^ But owing to the dimness of the hj,^ht that reached the hall, and to Wharton's eyes beinj,' unused to the gloom after the brightly lighted room, the English captain was not at first discovered. David called out as he left the room, *' You had better wait. He'll be back in a min- ute." Then he walked directly at Temple. There was a moment's pause. Suddenly, when within a foot or two of the men, Wharton stopped. He peered before him and stejjped a little aside to let the light fall in froi. of him; and at this moment Temple sprang: he managed, for the sec- ond that the light fell upon him. to k .p his face in shadow by throwing one arm across it. So David did not imagine for a moment that he was strug- gling with his friend and old rival, Captain Temple. No sooner had Temple closed with Wharton than the other two Englishmen jumped from their con- cealment and dashed to their captain's aid. Barna- bas, however, again proved himself more wise and cunning than the others of this expedition. He lay quietly where he was, well out of the light, and well out of the range of battle. What he calculated on to happen did happen. When David found himself ser on, by what appeared to be three soldiers of !l^ ! it m Hr'^' l^^^lf' ' M'^ iii'i ■h'' ,', 1 K'V.: !' 196 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE Lee's dragoon, lie called for help loudly to some- one in the room. And immediately help came: not in the form of Washington himself, hut in the form of two y(.ung soldiers of the Continental army. These young men hesitated for a moment, puzzled to know who was fighting who, as all four of the men wore the American uniform. Quickly, how- ever, they saw that their captain was struggling against the other three (and they noticed with cer- tain pride that he was pretty nearly holding his own. too), and they sprang into the fray. Barnabas waited no longer. Either the room was empty or the general-in-chief was there by himself, and now. if ever, was his chance. As to how he was to kid- nap a strong m-n single-Iianded he hadn't quite de- cided : he relied on the inspiration of the moment, or if that failed, tn his allies getting tiie best of the fight, and coming to his aid. He slipped into the room. Everything was as he had seen it often be- fore, except that now there seemed to be an even greater abundance of maps, papers, etc.. littering the table, the fire was burning brightly, and a pen. stdl glistening witli wet ink. lay on a partlv written sheet. These details Barnabas noticed half unc.n- sciously. but the one all-important thing was that the room was empty! As this traitor sto,,,] jn^t within the room of the FOILED 197 master whom he had come to betray, two strong emotions surged through him ; one was a feehng, deep in his heart, of reHef ; reHef that the great man. whom he feared to face, was not there : the otiier was the grip of bitter disappointment. Here then all in a flash he saw the failure (jf his cherished scheme. These two mighty emotions tore him ir tlieir struggle for mastery. His fear and dreading had been great, as it is bound to be in the rogue who is tempted to do a really daring thing, but his avaricious spirit had been crying out for the rich reward that was to be his if he succeeded. Of course, it was this spirit which, stronger than his fears, had driven him on. For a moment he was tempted to rush to the table and grab up any prom- ising looking document within reach, but the risk he was running was too great. Here he was stand- ing conspicuously in the lighted room. He was clad in his rebel uniform to be sure, and if he were taken, perhaps his clever tongue could extricate him. But for the few moments that he stood there he listened carefully to the progress of the fight. By the sound that came from the narrow hallway he concluded that all hands were well engaged. Then he realized that the battle was moving away towards the hall doov. He (piickly blew i/ut the two candles, and then ran from the room into the hall. The I l! I m 198 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE doorway was now filled with struggling men • he thought he heard voices coming out of the dark beyond: also he realized at that moment that the tumult of the battle, a short distance back of the house, had died down. Then the attackers were bemg dnven off. and he and these three Englishmen alone remained of the attackers. He ran to the doorway, sprang lightly onto the jumble of men was grabbed by one leg. struggled free, and half tumbling and half climbirc^ got out of the house Voice-, sounded close to hun now. coming from be h.nd the building. IJe did not stop to help Temple nor to warn him. He had nr, time to spare on these n.ce questions of honour. At such times as the pres- ent h,s motto was. " Every man for himself He made h,s way to where he had tied his horse as quickly as he cou.Vl possibly go in the dark. Leap- 'ng mto the saddle, he galloped down towards the nver. He kncNv of an unfrequented, rotmdabout way that would bring him back safely to Philadel- phia. ■ i. .1 CHAPTER XII IN WHICH THE NEW MAJOR COMES TO GRIEF The rest of the winter of 1778 passed quietly for those enca-iiped w ith W'ashinp^ton at X'alley Forge, hi F'hi!:i -Iphia the q-aiety continued uninterrupted by such frivolous tliinj^s as war. Howe entertained as lavishly as ever, and wailed with all his grand army for the famine to do his work for him in rout- in,-,' the rebels from N'alley For^sfe. But that was not to be. General Washington was again proving the power of his genius by the way in which he held his discontented army together. His great tact had much to do with this. To every man he gave in turn leave of absence, sometimes lasting for a num- ber of weeks. This eased the tension like magic. David Wharton got his leave early in the spring, while Barnabas Bradfi rd was ofif duty and living with his people in T'hiladelphia. David went first to Philadelphia, even before going home. He made but a short visit, though, and after inviting the three Brad fords very urgently to come in a fev.' days to 199 1,( s 4: i lUV 200 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE call on them all at the farm he set out on his ride home. When he arrived he found that both Asa and his father, the Reverend 01i\er, were off duty also: and so with David's home-coniing the scattered fanidy v>as again cotni)lete. Flow sweet it was es- pecially to diese home-loving farmers, Asa and David, to be at thei- old familiar work about the farm. And there was much to be done now that the spring was upon them: acres to be plowed; crops to be sown; fences and barns to be repaired, and .so forth. Asa fell back to his old customs at once, and got up at his cu.^tomary hour and did the customary things at the customary times. David went one better; he jumped out of bed generally before sunrise and was afield when the last, pale stars of morning were fading out. Though David was such a practical farmer he had somewhat of the dreamer in him too. and. even though he had been gone from home for but a matter of months, yet as he walked down this famih'ar lane, or put his hands again to an old familiar job. he would pause while a flood of sweet memories crowded upon him ; in this way. some people wnuU say, he lost many valuable moments. Everything about the house was bright and ^niling, though, to be sure, times were hard. The only thi-ig that cast a shadow over their THE MAJOR COMES TO GRIEF 201 joy in tlie Wharton household was the faiHng health of Ruth. Do what they could in directing her ex- ercise most carefully, making her sleep much, and eat plenty of butter and eggs, and drink rich milk, yet Ruth day by day showed clearer signs of weak- ening. When finally David weni in search of a doc- tor and brought him out to the farm, and the doctor pronounced her condition to be .serious, the whole house was cast into gloom. If she did not go South for the long, wet spring, the doctor said, she would probably not li\e a year. When David was at work he pondered much on this. How was Ruth to be sent South when there was no money coming in, and the poor, neglected farm was hardly able to keep tho.se living on it in food and clothing? Finally he decided on what he must do. John Brad- ford had money, and if there was any way of get- ting some of it away from him he would get it. It was a question of Ruth's life, and the purse of his Tory friend seemed the only thing that could save it. About four days after David had arrived home a great coach drove up to the house. All the men, even the Reverend Oliver himself, were out in the fields, and so Ruth and her mother ran out to wel- come the arrivals, whoever they proved to be. The door of the coach flew open, and out jumped George 202 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE w i;J ii.i Temple, lately promoted to the rank of Major. Temple hastily saluted Mrs. Wharton and Ruth, and then turned and aided John Bradford and Anne to descend. This visit was unexpected for, as much as the Whartons hoped they wcnild come, still they did not think that John would risk pokinj^ his nose outside the protection of the King's army. But owing to John's having lately bought a new coach he felt secure from recognition as he passed along the highway and through the village. After an exchange of greetings with the mother and daugh- ter Mr. Bradford turned prcnully to his great ptjs- ses.sion. and pointed out its beauties, and told con- fidently of its great cost. When the others finally turned to enter the house, the rich man insisted on accompanying his new coach to the barn to see that it was safely hou'^ed. A few minutes later he came back to the house in the company of David. The Whr.rton boy, for so John always referred to him, was talking somewhat faster than he could think, and consecjuently was talking a great deal of non- sense. But only John was capable of judging poor David for this. He did not understand how the boy's heart was all out of his control, and was simply bursting for joy at .Anne's sudden presence. John could understand now only the joy that monev gave, a cold, dead emotion. And so during that THE MAJOR COMES TO GRIEF 203 short walk to the house John wondered more and more in his heart how liis Anne could ever have be- come infatuated, as he suspected her of being, witii such a stupid ycfore him. That night Temple had barely escaped capture. David had succeeded in holding him until the soldiers, which I3arnabas had heard coming, were almost upon their.. Only after he had partly stunned his "Pponent with a blou- of his fist, had Temple man- i'i^ed to break away. Xow. in the presence of David, ;in this stood out vividly in his mind. He could not quite bring himself to look David straight in 204 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE :^ i\ ^ r- Hi fP iii the eyes, for he feh tliat the other must read his secret in his face. So, ahnost witliout their noticing it, the relation between David and his old friend became delicate and strained. The Englishman's continued attentions to Anne, now when he well knew how things stood l^etween her and David, seemed to the honest .American insulting, as though the mere fact that .\ime had accepted him counted for nought. David was not a god, and many little things in connection with Tenii)lc, who was thought- less and headstrong, worked more and more on his nerves. But the Englishman was quite oblivious ':o this : in fact he was oblivious to everything but his lost Anne. And so the few precious days slid by in the big, comfortable farm-house far from Valley Forge. Everyone was counting on at least another week of this joyous home life when an old disturb- ing factor reappeared and shattered ihei/ plans and dreams. They were all sitting around the great oak dinner-table one evening, after they had finished their meal, smoking and talking of little incidents of the war, when a most authoritative knocking sounded upon the front door. A sudden chill went through everybody, as though they had heard a spirit asking for entrance. They all realized that at such times as these " no news was good news," and that if anyone came to the house there were THE AL\JOR COMES TO GRIEF 205 nine chances out of ten that their mission was not one of joy. X(nv that the spring had come the inuvements of arniies might lie sudden and frequent. The Reverend Ohver rose from the table hastily and went to the door. He flung it wide open and stood aside, bidding the newcomer at the same time to enter. A tall man stepped into the hall, bowed and extended his hand. " Good evening, Mr. Wharton. You don't know me in these clothes. You've never seen Barnabas Bradford in his Continental uniform?" " No, I didn't recognize you. Captain Bradford," returned the Reverend Oliver with a cheerful, hearty voice. " But I'm happy to see you have joined a good cause. Come into the room there." Barnabas looked down the long hallway aiid could see half of the diners leaning back in their ■hairs at the table. A wistful smile anpeared on his face, and he brushed his long fingers meditatively through his black hair. " I'm Major Bradford now," he said slowly and simply. " Who's in tliere ? " " Oh! congratulations, major. You've beaten me out: ha! ha! I suppose a chaplain lias no chance. Rut come in ; come in. You know everybody \ guess : just your people and Major Temple." Barnabas frowned darklv. " I I J «06 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE " I duhrt know he was here," lie said as he fol- lowed OHver into the room. . Everybody at least appeared to be glad to see Barnabas Bradford come in. The men rose, and Asa and David extemled welcoming hands to him. Temple appeared to be absorbed in loosening his tight collar and did not extend his hand. Barnabas bowed low to the ladies. The Reverend Oliver entered the room. carr>-ing a chair which he put at the table for the new guest; then, turning to the major, he put his hand upon his shoulder and explained to the others how Barna- bas had been given the high and responsible posi- tion of major in the Continental army for his es- timable and loyal service to the great cause. Every- one looked terribly impressed by these words and most of all father John himself, who knew it all along. The new major bowed low and seemed very humble about it all. but David noticed an un- mistakable look of triumph light his face as Barna- bas glanced at Temple. The Englishman paled al- most imperceptibly. The new major sat down and talked very nicely ; and all were quite proud of the reformed youth. That the reform was but skin-deep Temple saw, and David saw, but the others dutifully looked at that side only that Barnabas chose to present to them. I? i 1 ■.,(.;■ ■Mi THE MAJOR (OMES TO GRIEF 207 The good pcoi)lc did not read the strange expres- sion tliat came into his face every now and then as he talked, and at first they did not reaUze that r.arnabas turned his attention more and mure to Temple. But they were destined to see and under- stand more of tlie loyal major's nature later in the evening. The more rum the reformed man si])ped the more speedily the sheei)'s skin slipped from his shoulders. Temple held his peace admirably, but he had partaken of good Jamie's rum also, and was feeling very fine. David watched them with inter- est, for he saw clearly what was coming; and, thought he, it's just as well for Barnabas to show out in his true light, and for one or die other of them, he didn't care which, to get a good licking. The black cloud that the little rain-drt)ps of words had been heralding burst sucUlenly. This is how. Barnabas at last had succeeded in getting full control of the conversation. His ran along even more freely and his choice of topics became ever more risky; till finally, and T^avid breathed a sigh of relief, it was the old. bad penny, showing up in its true colours. Helping himself with a fine show of good manners to rum. r.arnabas introduced a subject for conversation which even he. in his saner moments, had not dared to broach. " Parson." he said, turning his hard, crafty look- 208 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE i IJ; :li iug face to the Reverend Oliver, " tell ine, what do you think of the Kinj,''s soldiers who would come like dirty thicxc- in the inLriit, dressed in their enemy's unilornis, t«» Nlcal away their jL,'eneral ? " "Tut, tut, major." n-|ilieil Oliver. " nuuiv strange things are done in war. But we won't discuss that now." The major hrought his fist down with very cred- itable force upon the table. " X'ow's the time, and now's the hour," cried he. " And. Parson, it -.K-as a sneak's job. and every F^nglishman that took part in it was a damned >neak." Barnabas looked around defiantly, especially in the direction where Temple sat with his head slightly bowed and his face set and stern. A pause followed. John Bradford made two or three at- tempts to speak, but his indignation was so jr . that his words would not come; and perhaps it was just as well. Asa sat quietly as he had been sitting all evening, his thin, seasoned face unm(j\ed. The women looked startled at this sudden outbreak ; but Anne was far move atTected than the others, and she had reason to be. He- terrible secret was his; she had been one of his accomplices. The horror of it swept over her with new force. Any moment he might reveal it all to David : he was sure to some day. He had already threatened to do it twice, and THE MAJOR COMES TO GRIEF 209 I tilt' only reason why he had not \.as that, for the tnoment, it would be inconvenient f(jr liiniself to have it known. Anne decided to tell David every- tliiiij,' the first chance she found. David seemed to feel tiiat it was his place to call down the disturlxT of the peace. He tapped his finjjers on tlie table and leaned far over towards tlie ofTenfler. " See here, Rarnabas. anything you've got to say aq-ainst the Eiiglisli. keep it until you get outside. Riglit here in this house there's going to be none of that talk." When David was very earnest about what he was saying he raised his eyebrows very liigh and stared hard at the person he was talking to. " Ha, ha! Davy, my man," replied Barnabas in a sneering voice. " One can never tell what side you'll be on next. But tiiere r.re others lik-^ you: there's my little sister for instance, she swore she was on the side of tlie damned English, but I'll swear to God she helped the rebels once." Barnabas had struck a true blow at last, and the result was all that he could have expected. Up jumped both David and Temple : but Temple won out. Whereas David started to speak from where he was standing, and to order Barnabas to silence, the Englisliman, who had been nursing his wrath in 210 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE \i f ! P 1 f H ' liji. silence, left his jilace and went over to where the insulter sat. As David did not know of Anne's part in tlic ])li)t to take \\'ashine;-ton he did not see how badly her half-l)n»ther was striking her; hut Tem- ple knew : and liesides. he himself had been insulted sufficiently to give him excuse to do what he in- tended to do. He tapped Barnabas on the shoulder and said, " If you think we l-'nglish are damned, come and prove it." " Certainly I will." cried Barnabas, springing up from the table, and instincti\ely gripping the hilt of his sword. But here both .Asa and Oliver inter- fered. They both said very determinedly that there would be no fighting near this house. Also they tried to reason w ith them, and to point out the child- ishness and insanity of their trying to kill one an- other because their vanity had been abused. But the two W'hartons sewn saw the futility of reason- ing. The Englishman had just been insulted, and they coiddn't reason him out of that, and he in- tended to fight : the .\nierican had been struck many months before by that Englishman, and he intended to fight. .\t fir^t Oliver said he would wash his hanrls of it all, but finally his sense of fair play dr (I'.rk. Ten minutes later i ii if l-ttle group of men wound their way aero ; th.e fielils i'ri i fi (. ' , p ,11 1:- I • If. ji 212 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE stinctivcly. He gave Temple no time to attack and so get the advantage of liis skill. He thrust and thrust with such amazing swiftness that the Eng- lishman found no time to do more than protect him- self. David watched this duel with keen interest. He had often read of duels and had often imagined himself fighting one. T'or a time it was his highest amhition, his most valued ideal. To be matching skill with skill and death for the loser, had seemed to him. wlicn a small hoy, something beyond ordi- nary mortals. .\ny famous derelict that he read about seemed to him a god. But now. grown up, he watched these two with very different feelings. They looked unreal and fairy-like to him. it is true, but that was on account of the strange" faint light. Only the upper, naked part^ of their bodies showed at all clearly; their sworci> now and then gleamed palely, but oflm they too were invisible, and that gave the effect of two spirits stri^-ing to deal death to one another by some invisible powers of magic. Their fjuick stepping to and fro, their hard breath- ing, and the sharp thin click of the blades, sounded strangely clear, and added to the ghostly effect. They had been fighting six or seven minutes be- fore Tem])le got the opening for which he had been looking. Barnabas made a vicious thrust at Tem- ple's chest: the force of his stroke carried him for- THE xMAJOR COMES TO GRIEF ns ward a little too far, and when the Englishman whipped the blade aside with all his strength Barna- bas was unable U) recover his balance on the instant. That one first mistake ended the fight. With his opponent's body unguarded Temple picked his spot and thrust true, running the sword through the mus- cles of the right shoulder. At the sudden pain t^.arnabas hissed through his clenched teeth ; his sword dropped, he tottered, then quietly sat down ui)on the grass. Oliver ran to the wounded man's assistance, while Da\id walked off a short distance witli Temple, and conversed with him in low tones, while the latter slowly and thoughtfully put on his clcjthes. " Lucky thing I didn't land him a little lower d(nvn, hey, Wharton?" said Temple. " You didn't try to," David replied with convic- tion. " You could have, if you had tried to." Temple drew his coat on as though he himself were the wounded one. " Maybe I could have," he got out at last in that special tone that meant, " Of course I could have." David had never seen his English friend in this very constrained mood before, and he wondered if it arose from pride over his neat little victory. But afterwards when he came to know Temple better he knew- that it was not so ; that this mood i; 'I ill ft 1 4m 11' / I ,. I I ;)i it i h 214 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORCiE came over him whenever he was doing anything »i # great importance. It was the resuk of a self-con- scious seriousness. Presently Oliver called David over to help him with Barnahas, and together they bound his wounded shoulder with broad strips torn from his shirt. These bandages at least hindered the flow of blood. Then they buttoned his coat very care- fully around him. bellied him to his feet, and staited ofif at a snail's pace towards the liouse. They had not gone far liefore Temple overtook them and offered, with the best of intentions, to give a helping hand. But Barnabas wasn't feeling quite friendly enough towards his opponent to permit that. He turned on Temple, muttering something which nobody coidd understand, but which sounded more like a deep growl than anything else. The humble victor instantly fell out of the line of march and took up his position about ten paces ix^hind the others. This outbreak on the part of Barnabas took David by surprise. It disgusted him. He was be- ginning at last to admire this man for what he thought must be his only virtue; but as that one virtue was pluck David felt he could forgive him for his many weaknesses. Since David had been near him Barnabas had not spoken a word nor let escape even a groan, but that he was suffering one nc\ Mh h THE MA.IOU COMES TO GRIEF 216 could see plainly. This then, underneath his ugly surface, thought David, was a man ; perhaps yet he would learn the a b c of life and be honest. But his hopes were shattered when Barnabas growled so viciously at Temple, and during the walk to th house the wounded man swore at every jolt, and he swore at his supporters if either of them hindered him a little or pressed him forward. Soon, as a last resort, he began to mumble about revenge and to groan long painful groans. .\s they came within sight oi the house the frr)nt door f>pened, and three or four people stared out into the dark and listened. Then they saw old Asa push his way out and come down along the path towards them at a quick nerv- ous pace. As soon as he spied the little group ap- proaching he stopped still and waited for them, and when they came up to him Barnabas was growl- ing and swearing as hard as ever. That told the whole story. Asa asked no ijuestions. He waited until Temple came up to him and returned to the house in his more quiet company. They walked very slowly, as Temple was explaining evcrj detail of the fight, and just how it happened that he got in his last stroke. Conserjuently they reached the house quite a bit after the others. When they npcned the front door there was all the household assembled in the hall. Barnabas was just disap- M •\l k i ' ! I i) lli'^' 216 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE pearing up-stairs aided by the faithful Olivt-r. John, his father, was stationed at the foot of the stairs just finishing an evidently warm oration. Barnabas punctuated his How of words every now and then with, " I'll have him yet," evidently re- ferring to Temple. John slapped his huge right hand on the bannister post to lend emphasis to his words. " And then it comes to this. You profess to be a loyal soldier to Washington and you come here and figl't in the back-yard on account of some vain words, instead of giving the message that you came with. Fie! on all you young numbskulls, for you are worth nothing." He turned around and started to stride his way into the dining-room, where Temple and Asa entered. John glared at the Eng- lishman as he passed him but said nothing. No- body said anything. Temple was on the point of speaking several times but never did. The silence was becoming very awkward when .\sa demanded, " Why do we all stand here? Nothing has hap- pened. He'll be all right in a day or so. You all had better come into the study and play at some games." ill, m r i.i m :| I A CHAPTER XIII OFF TO WAR Everything was very peaceful in the household after this night, and the Bradfurds and Whartons lived together in perfect harmony Major Temple, of course, was not there. He had left for Phila- delphia the next morning. Barnahas was the cul- prit, but as he expressed no notion of budging for awhile, and as nobody saw their way quite clear tor giving him die hint, it was for Temple to bear the weak man's load, and this load was a heavy one for him. Barnabas decided to rest in the luxury of a bed for three days and let \nne and Ruth wait upon him. This was a relief to everybody as all felt that it was better for him to be out of sight and sound just as much as possible. The new adjustments in the household were very pleasant to David. He oftened managed to be busy about the house where Anne and Ruth were em- ploying themselves, and at these times Ruth always did what he hoped she would do : she discovered 217 m p. Jli! 218 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 1 ?h i4'.: : i ml •I ■ 1 1 :^ that there was other and more important work for her to do in another part of the liouse. But this state of affairs was too good to last. John, who was growing more and more determined that his daugh- ter should marry a man of means, soon suspected what was up. He inanaged as cle\ erly as any young person could manage, and often, in fact nearly al- ways, he happened to have something to do himself in the kitchen after Ruth had left. Then a new trouble arose when Barnabas betook his wounded self out of bed. He was always about the house and always warning to know where David was, if he happered to lose sight of him for a moment. Anne was supposed not to talk when br(jther Barnabas was talking, and so the conversation ran on topics of war, while Anne bent her attention to the peel- ing of i)()tatoes, etc. David always tried to be polite to Barnabas and show an interest in war while love waited on the threshoUl. It was the second day after the major had been up and about tliat he spoke to David of his mission. He had not cotne to this house on a picnic tior even to see his fi lend. Captain Wharton, but he haposed to be. Deeming it far from safe to go any further while it was daylight, David ordered camp to be made. He told his men that there was night work at hand, and that they had better eat heartily of cold food, as no fires could be lit, and take plenty of rest. They were to attack the village, if they themselves were not attacked before, immediately it was dark. The captain picked out three of the most skilful scouts, men as apt and cunning in Indian ways as the Indian himself, and sent them ahead to find out anything they could about the enemy. But the facts that were wanted most particularly were whether or no the Indians knew that a force had ■,^^^33m^^W9S3S7^immsp^%.^.2;m NEW ENEMIES 241 come against theiii, and about how many fighters there were all told in the village. One of the scouts sent out was the young bow paddler of the captain's canoe. The hardy farmer- soldiers waited through the long afternoon, restless and eager to be off. Some tried to sleep, but most of them sat still and watched the shadow patterns play monotonously over the brown floor of the forest and listened. These men who knew how to fight so hard for the liberty of their country, knew how to fight much harder for the lives of their people. Many reloaded their muskets and exchanged the ball for a handful of buckshot; something calculated to do more dam- age when fired into a mass of men than a single ball. Late in tlip afternoon two of the scouts returned. They had learned little, having found it impossible to get within seeing or hearing distance of the vil- lage. There were fresh signs of Indians every- where, and very likely all the warriors were at home, either just about to set out on a bloody ex- pedition or had just returned from one. God grant it be not the latter, prayed they, but that they would be in time to save some innocent lives. It was getting dark, and the young man in whom they now put their only hopes of getting informa- ■ . /6 m " i 242 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY F(JRGE tion had not returned. If he had been captured their case was scriuus, as the Indians could attack them uliere and when they cliose. David became very anxious, lie debated with himself whether, under the circumstances, it would be better to stay where they were, all night if need be, until the lad returned, for here they could easily defend them- selves if attacked; or wh.-ther it would not be wiser to push ahead immediately on the chance cjf even yet taking the Indians by surprise. He had just decided that the men would not stand for any all night delay, and that it was better to attack the village as quickly as they could, when he was star- tled by the snapping of a twig close at hand. Me glanced up, and then from behind a tree peered the beady eyes of an Indian. David was too startled for a moment to move. He felt, rather than thought, that they were surrounded, that this one had betrayed him.self intentionally, and that at any instant a volley would roar out, dropping them to a man. Without turning, he shouted a warning to his men. .\t this noise, the Indian who had been as still as a statue since David spied him. jerked his head from side to side, then turned about, holding carefully to the tree the while, and finally started off back into the woods with a half-running-, half-walking gait. '^^'90- C9MLQb^^ NEW ENEMIES 243 Tlie soldiers rushed to their captain and stood ')' 'Ut him, their muskets ready. As nothing seemed o come of it all, David presently turned to them and described the strange actions of the Mohawk whom he had caught spying on them. When he had told of the way in which the Indian had walked, some one spoke the one word " drunk." This was the most likely explanation, and their hope went out like a snuffed candle. If that were true then they had come too late. The Indian revels after his work is done and not before. Somewhere a farm, or perhaps a whole settlement, was in smouldering ruins. Tliere was no holding the men back now even if their captain had wanted to. To look at these fellows one would think they had just received news that their own homes had been burned; their own people killed. Their faces were hard and set, and they did the few things they had to do before set- ting off with what might be termed a terrible de- termination. At a word from their commander the little bodv of Continentals jumped eagerly into line, each man giving a last, hasty touch here and there over hi-^ pockets, etc.. to make sure he had everything, such as powder, balls and knife. When every man was accounted for David started at a fast stride through 244 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE :i.^-'r tlie woods; the otiiers followed in single file. He knew that the village was on the banks of the stream, and so his best guide was the watercourse itself, lie was not sure of the distance but be- lieved it to be about two miles. If only the poor young fellow who had not returned were with them now. he thought. On they passed; now. when the more opened woods allowed, breaking into a trot, now slowly crawling, crouching low beneath the den.se branches. At times they lost the stream and had to circle far to the left in order to pick it up again, though for most of its course the waters advertised them.selves by their thin, hollow roar. The moccasined feet of these expert trailers gave little warning of their presence ; the ground was .soft and springy, and in- stinctively their feet refused to tread on sticks or twigs, the betrayers of the clumsy trailer. They had been going about twenty minutes, when they suddenly came out on to a wide, well- beaten track, running in their direction along the course of the stream. This they followed, though now moving ahead more cautiouslv. It was on ac- count of their silent moving that David was able to hear the pat. pat of running feet coming towards him down the trail. He instantly drew aside close in against the black trunks of the trees, whispering NEW ENEMIES 245 a command to the man nearest him to do the same. Jn a moment the path was clear. The runner drew near, and now otlier footfalls could be heard close behind the first. David stood ready with his knife to spring on to the runner if it proved to be an Indian. The man reached the spot where Wharton was concealed, — and slipped by. making a harsh gasping scnnid as he passed; no man moved. .\s he passed them they recogm'zed the missing scout. I'ifty feet behind him came his jnirsuers, two fleet Mohawks running lightly, and swiftly overhauling him. David let the first one pass; his men could deal with him. But when the second Indian came within reach the young captain leajjed upon him and threw him to the ground. There was no exchange of words; David knew that a fight with an Indian had but one ending, — death for one of them. Tliere was no such thing as quarter, and mercy was un- known to the Indian. The savage was taken com- pletely by surprise; he crumpled under the weight of ins assailant; but, as he fell, he struck with his knife instinctively. David had always had a horror of anything that seemed like treachery, and he loathed the job he had to do now, but all this feel- ing vanished like a vision when he felt the keen sting of the knife in his side. He thrust twice like m i'. t J'" I ■ ' t ;■■ !': iir '. M V" t t :i ^f'! i 246 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE liglitningf with his short skinning knife; and his thrusts went home. Meanwhile most of the others had been deahng with savage number one, and, in their excitement and desire to do their work thor- oughly, they had given no thought to their captain. A muii!)cr of them had received wounds, for the fir>; Indian had had time to draw his knife, having been warned of danger by David's attack. Also the men had crowded around him, handicapping each other hopelessly. The ycjung scout bad come in for his share of excitement, too. He naturally had mistaken the tlark figures that had pounced out after him as he thought, to be Indians. He made one wild slash at the man nearest him and fell absolutely exhausted to the ground. Luckily the man nearest him was not near enough, and so no harm was done. As soon as the rescued lad was able to speak, David, whose wound proved to be very slight, in- quired of him the best direction in which to come on to the village. The lad warned him that this path was always guarded, that they woidd have to ford the stream and strike the village from the other direction. He also told them in short broken sentences that the whole village, about sixty In- dians and seven white men all told, were assem- bled and were dancing and drinking around two '>V*\'. tS '■:S^,M.'S ^F-^,^'1. NEW ENEMIES 247 ?reat fires. On every side, he concluded, were unmistakable signs of their devil's work, the accom- plishment of which they were now celebrating. Kven this hardy lad, inured to the life of peril and bloodshed, wept as he told of what he had seen; " the pity of it, the horror of it, oh, the cruelty."' lie raved. He begged them to hurry, it was but a short two miles, run. run. he pleaded. Tlie grim farmers laid the youth gently, even reverently, on to a bed of soft moss close to the water. Flis words had little meaning, they thought the lad was half delirious, for he was over-tired and thev found an '•pen wotmd in his head; but for all that his words went to their hearts and added to the fire that was raging there. They slid off into the night leaving the boy talk- ing quietly to himself. They forded the stream and followed up along the bank as before. Pres- ently, a puflF of wind blowing in their direction, brought a weird sound of human voices high- . pitched and still far off. They pressed on. every now and then forgetting caution and breaking into a scrambling run. Sixty Indians in all, David con- sidered, meant about twenty warriors, perhaps thirty nt most, and then there were seven white men who would be the most desperate fighters of all. Suc- cess was a very doubtful thing with the sides so «48 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE evenly matched; certainty lay only in their tnan- asinjjf to take theni by surprise. The sounds that arose from that village became stranger and more terrible the nearer they got. There was music of some sort and shrieks ; in short, all the unheard-of noise of the old Indian battle orgy. Soon they could see the faint glow of their fires above the tree-tops. Crawling that last hundred yards or so up to the edge of the firelit clearing was an experience per- haps more thrilling and more to be remembered than the actual fighting that followed The reddish yellow glare of the great f^res shot down in long lanes of light through the dark woods, between the black trunks. Twice as they crept with infinite care, lest even a twig should crack, they came on to the bodies of sleeping Indians; but as they seemed to be very securely asleep, with no danger of waking for many an hour, they deemed it unnecessary to kill them. On they crept even more carefully as they approached the edge of the woods. They were spread out over a space of about a hundred feet. This enabled them to reach the clearing all at the same time, and they were close enough together to make a volley most efifective. No guard was posted on the outskirts of the village as David had feared might be the case. The well disciplined Continen- NEW ENEMIES 249 tals lay down on their stomachs at the edge of the wood , their muskets thrust in front of them, and watched the wild spectacle. Many of them had often watched this thing ber.re, but never with so much lust for vengeance in Jieir hearts as now. The painted Mohawks danced, if tl ir contortions could be called dancing, about the fires, while a short distance back sat an interested group of on- lookers. Among these onlcxkers the farmers spied the fine gentlemen that had j. -ned tlieir cause with these savages, to slaughter women and children and pkuuler homes. Captain Wharton maiie the signals agreed upon, and every man stood up in his place back in the shadow of the woods. They raised their muskets, each man carefully picking out his legitimate prey, the savage nearest him, and they aimed low at tlie waistband. For one second more the dancing con- tinued, the picture continued, for one second only, then — The captain shouted, " Fire ! " and thirty mus- kf'ls crashed together. For a moment, the noise of the orgy having sud- denly stopped, all was silent. But this silence was sl:attered as suddenly as the picture. The shrieks of the wounded were more horrible than these of the revellers; the screams of the squaws and chil- R ■: •f i'^ ' I M ii .:: .ifMir,i .1 r:i'i / ill II, 'J » if i(-r' M ■Li.; :i !:S ii;; 1 I !'! i II ill i ill 250 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY F()R(,E dren, who knew not in which direction to Ikr, and louder than all. the shouts of the fanners as they broke froni the cover of the woods to avenge li>eir butchered people. The scanty handful of warriors that survived that terrible volley held their ground, grabbing iip what weapons they coidd find, until the wmnen and children had time to Hee into the woods, then they fled after them. The village lay deserted. After putting the wounded out of their miseries, David directed their attention to the wigwams, which stood in a rough half-circle about the clear- ing. The fires were beginning to die down now, and the fitful half-light which they threw over the scene gave a ghostly touch to everything; the dead men that lay sprawled in grotesque attitudes over the ground appeared to move and twist as the black shadows leaped about them ; the pointed wigwams, which one instant were so dim that one could hardly discern them against the black woods behind, the next instant stood out in a strange pallor as the firelight played over the birch-bark. Whenever a flame sprang into life the tiny doors of the wig- wams seemed to grin and gape at the intruders as though daring them to enter. The captain grabbed up a burning brand from the fire and started for the nearest structure. He NEW ENEMIES iS\ ordered five of his men to do tl.e same, while the others spread themselves out in every direction to keep guard. A number of warriors had escaped, and, aUIiough armed only with the knives and toma- hawks, which they had used in their dancing, they cmikl be counted on to {\o some damage yet. As David put his light to the bark of a wigwam a tomaliawk pierced the wall of bark close lo his head. Soon the entire encampment was ablaze, riie angry red flames shot up through heavy black smoke, and in a few seconds after it was lit the whole birch-bark structure was a blazing torch. The soldiers dared not stand in this bright light, an easy mark for the concealed red-skins, so they backed ofT towards the far end of tlie clearing. It was now that they noticed for the first time the heartrending evidences of the work that these savages had accomplished. Now the words of the wounded boy sounded again in their ear:,. Here were the blotxly scalps of women and children, and here the mangled forms of those who had been cap- tured and tortured. Great sacks of meal were piled high, and four horses were tethered to a tree. Kvery conceivable article of the white man's home- stead was to be seen. Two soldiers were struck dov.n as they walked, one killed and the other seriously wounded. Whar- 2^m.i^'^2^j^ Pi •I ■ ■■* I'll ■,>• m m ' MM'" H.1 " ' % ■[ 111-* : 'n: 252 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ton ordered the men to make a rapid search for any living captives. Nothing more was found, and as it was hopeless to try to destroy all the Indians' grain, etc., he ordered them to retreat into the cover of the woods. Again, and a^ suddenly as before, the picture had changed. No living person was in sight. In place of the beautiful, fairy-like wigwams there were now glowing masses of coals ; the cen- tral fires were now burning low and so the blackness of night seemed to be creeping out of the woods and laying soft, damp fingers over the light, until only here and there a faint scar of /ed glowed out be- tween. Tliere was absolute silence. As David, the last to Itave the clearing, entered the woods, he turned a grim face towards the ruins; and he thought what a merciful thing it was that the night hid such sights even for a little while. Their going was much as their coming; poling the canoes through rapids by day, and sleeping under the canoes by night. One difference however there was. The Indians, how many they never knew, pursued them relentlessly day and night, never losing an opportunity to do them injury. But as they were now running with the current one man could, as a rule, manage a canoe by himself, so they were able to keep a strong guard on both sides of the stream. During the two and a half NE\ r.NEMIES 253 days they were return.ng one middle-aged farmer was killed as he was plodding along in advance of the others. Three others were slightly wounded at dififerent times. The price that this little army of sturdy farmers had paid in killed and wounded was not over great, considering the good work they had done. After this exploit David Wharton became a major. ^^m:^iM!^^SLm f«'t 11 u - ■ ■, I Si H I! W". i\ m h ■ i '! ' i CHAPTER XV THE WASHINGTON - CLINTON RACE The lonji^ed-for move had at last come. Sir Henry Clinton, now the commander-in-chief of the British forces in America, had found it necessary to evacuate Piiiladelphia ; and without any delay Washin<,non had entered and taken possession of the city. This occurred on June i8th. 1778. Now life was cpiite different for the loyal Continentals that had sufifercd so long at Valley Forge with their great commander. Of course they did not, as the British ofificers had done, develop gout whilst the lank and file hecanie plump and short of wind. It was far different with the .American soldiers; Wash- ington saw to that. They hoth eat and slept well, but not luxuriously. They had lots of time, for the moment, but the officers saw to it that there was no time to spare. The soldiers were drilled and exercised as rigorously as ever, and they had al- ways to be prepared to march from the city at a moment's notice. Washington watched the British 254 !mm^Si^^^^^^^^ksmi^mM-%%Wi mri^.::^:i::mdmmA' m^ THE WASHINGTON - CLINTON RACE 255 cammaiuler as an eagle watclied its intended prey. Move the British must, and that before very long. I he American army waited. News kept ever ar- riving that the French fleet was nearing the coast, tliat it would arrive any day. But the news seemed to travel much faster than great French ships. The coming of the tleet would be the most popular to])ic of conversation for many days and nights, then it would die down only to be renewed by some fresh news, until finally tiie subject was dropped alto- gether and no news could bring it to life again. When at last in July the fleet did arrive at Sandy Hook, oidy to find that it was impossilde to cross the bar and enter the harbour, the impatience jf the practical soldiers knew no bounds. The two majors, Wharton and Bradfor], saw little of each other during the short time tl at the American army occupied Philadelphia. They each I Kid more work than they could attend to, and be- sides this, tlieir difTerent regiments were quartered far apart. Colonel Gibbon, in whose estimation the young major was ever and stc.idily rising, was en- camped on the outskirts of the city and, as it so hap- pened, not far from the large house of John Bral- ford. Esquire. David often caught a glimpse of the house through the trees, and he ached and longed for the opportunity to call on Anne. But 256 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE ! i .111 II;;'; t.i > the opportunity was slow in coming. He had to oversee a dozen tilings at once and to keep his eyes everywhere to see that nothing was amiss. i\t last he saw a spare hour ahead of him. He cleaned his clothes as host he could, which is not to vay \ ery nnich, and walked down the old, familiar .Nlreel t(j\\ards the Bradhjrd house. It had heen a long time since he had sjx)ken atiy fair words, and he feared greatly tint tiie rough living of the last few months had taken all his polish off. He dehated with himself as to how he should present himself before this dainty queen of the rich mansion. Never before, as in these trembling moments, had he so felt her great and overpowering superiority and his own mean insignificance. That she, this beauty of society, had promised herself to him seemed an impossibility and an illusion. Yet love is stronger than fear ; stronger even than the fear of the youth when face to face with his lady. David moved to the outer edge of the sidewalk so as to catch a glimpse of the gates and fence in front of the house. They looked wonderfully imposing, and so added to his timidity. As he approached them he reasoned desperately with himself that a soldier should be unmoved and calm under all circum- stances. But all in vain. He tried to picture his beloved commander, the masterly Washington, in THE WASHINGTON - CUNTON RACE 257 his place. No help. When he reached the gates he forgot to rea.son at all. Without liKiking up at the house, he tried the latch of the small side gate. It refused to budge though he put IxJth hands to it and linally his shoulder to the gate. In consternation he stepped back and viewed tiie house, and a melan- choly sight it was; every blind was drawn, the lower windows and the front doors were boarded up and the whole place was deserted and dead. This was a blow indeed for the young lover. In ins an.xiety to see Anne it had quite slipped his mind that there was a war; that the Bradfords had thrown in their lot with the British and, in conse- «|nence. had to flee with the British when they had started for New York overland. As he stood there gazing up at the lifeless windows he wondered where Anne was at that moment; what hardships she must be enduring in camp life, for which .she was so un.suited. For a moment the pity of it all overwhelmed him; that so many good, honest people, who aided neither one .^ide nor the other, but only wished to live peacefully and unmolested, V'Hing people and old people, should be forced to floe from their homes leaving all. and to follow an army for protection. .And those Tories that re- mained in the city were likely to be treated by the now victorious rebel citizens even as the rebels had 258 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 'I r been treated by the Tf)ries before. Not everyone was as shrewd as old John Bradford, either, in keep- ing a hold on both sides, as he did, in the persons of Major Temple and Major Wharton, so that when the time came he could cleave to the victorious parly. He was fleeing now, it is true, but it still seemed to him that the British were certain to be victorious, and so he continued to stronglv favour the Engli.shman Temple for his daughter .\nne. When the order came for a general advance no nne was lost. It quickly spread througliout the arif'v that the British were fleeing for New York ar that they, the Continentals, were expected to O' rake and deal them a blow from which they r i never recover. A battle, a glorious full- dexl ba'tie at last! What magic had broken the ■>]> of the long, dead winter, and set everything in -ticn c^in, the soldiers wondered; and few of thf--i reaH??ti that that magic was none other than tl lar- ^ fleet. I : e l( olumns, marching four abreast, swung out f ity and along the country roads at a gr-at re. The transport wagons sank deeply e\ ry ere and there into the soft ground, and the gun-carriages fared none the better, for the roads were badly cut up by the passing of the Rriti^;!! troopers so shortly before. But every obstacle faded ^^^mm^M^-kJ^^ THE WASFIINCJTON - CLINTON RACK 259 away before the great good spirits of the rebel soldiers. They sang as they inarclied, they satig as they put their shoulders to the big gun wheels. This, chasing the enemy, was their idea of war, and quite (hfferent from the torturing inactivity which they had snfifered at Valley I'orge. David was kept busy beside a numl)er of gun- carriages, directing their handhng over tlie rutted roads, even now and then inttting a slioulder to a wheel himself. The lot of Barnabas was more ex- cilmg. Famous for his shrewdness and cunning, lie had been sent ahead to explore the country and spy out ' le huid. He galloped far in advance of the main body of troops al the bead of si.xty dra- goons. Rut tlmnighout the long afternoon no Britisher sliowed him.self, and so Barnabas walked his horses and gave himself up to tiioiight. The major had nf)t been idle since the failure of liis plot to betray Washington into the hands of the Eng- lish. Other plots no less daring and wicked quickly presented themselves to In's vicious mind. At times If looked as though it would be to bis advantage to return to his allegiance with the enemv. Tie sa-v one opening or two for reaping rich reward-^ bv so doing, for he knew how well a mnior. learned m all the ins and outs of the rebel armv. would be prized by the enemy; and he felt certain that he 'if ? ■, (. ti ..^i ■•■} lil/ bl: I ! I 260 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE could take full advantage of an opening when it was presented to him. But the rebel army gave him openings too, and it was finally in the rebvl forces that lie decided to work. A great and far-reaching scheme was hatching, and it was in the crafty brain of Barnabas that it was so well nourished. It was this scheme now that the major was contemplating, and he rejoiced in himself to think of what great things would be his if all turned out well. Ever since the return of Major-General Lee to the Conti- nental army Barnabas Bradford had been on inti- mate terms with him. He was well aware of Lee's unfriendly attitude towards the commander in-chief, and he quickly saw that here was the mo.st fruitful soil to work with ; but because these strained rela- tions between the ceauty; his, he boasted, was the life of activity, meat's to ends, was his motto. He struck his horse a smart blow with his gloved hatid and started off over the fields, giving directions to each group .-tr.:yj>L-ipja iiftmi> i!i-itA»Ji;s r-' - ^'7^ rjy TTIE WASHINGTON -CLINTON RACE 263 mancled Major Bradford to clioose and prepare the camping-ground instantly. At this I'.arnahas swore and said that tlie camping-ground had heen ready for the last hour and that he was tired waiting. IVn minutes later the great ponderous machine began crawling into camp, 'midst the crashing and banging of heavy vehicles, tlie snapping of whips and the shouting of commands. The first to arrive was the advance under Lee. lia nahas was on hand to salute the general as he rode up and the two con- versed a moment in low tones, then the major rode ofif to his own division. In an incredibly short space of time after the ar- rival of the army silence reigned over the whole camp. Not a moment hnd l)een lost. The outposts iiad been placed; the pi. kets stationed; fifteen thousand dinners eaten; and almost fifteen thou- sand men rolled in their blankets and gone to sleep : and now a< the dark hours crept by the sentinels paced mar! me-like to and fro. This highly trained army was a mechrnical thing of minute precision. Tt marched, ate and slept in perfect obedience to law. and no motion was made that was not necessary. A great mind was the life of it. a master mind that instilled into every man that vital thing, faith, with- out which an army, no matter how well drilled and mighty to look upon, is a dead thing. Washington <^9W7r\ > ^ MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART ANSI nnd ISO TEST CHART No 2 1.0 I.I 1.25 J; m 2.5 2.2 ZO 1.8 1.4 II 1.6 ^ APPLIED IM^GE 264 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE inspired perfect confidence in every soldier; and this confidence, given freedom to play tlirough the wonderful discipline taught the army by Von Steu- ben, made the army the force it proved to be. In the morning the columns were winding along the roads by daybreak. They were being hard driven by their officers it is true, and some few soldiers grumbled. But now they were well fed and could i-tand it ; and besides all these hardships were leading to something; they were seeking to overtake an army, one as large as their own. Day by day the excitement grew, and the grumbling died away. In the place of discontent there sprang up such an eagerness as was seldom shown in a race before, — this was a race between armies, and on the result seemed to hang the fate of nations. Every soldier grew greedy of the moments; it seemed a crime to be sleeping and the race still in the run- ning; thev became careless about their eating and always wanted to be off. Nothing was spoken of in camp but the fleeing army ahead of them. New York was its goal, but it must never arrive there, at least not until the Continentals had dealt with it. Barnabas Bradford was not the least excited of those in camp, and not the least eager to overtake the British. When travelling along the country roads he invariably lost his temper if a gun-carnage il • l' I I H I 268 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE pie drove in the coach with Anne and her father every day, and many were tlie long arguments be- tween the Tory merchant and the English officer concerning the war. " What are we running away for? " John would demand, thumping his fist in every direction. " What are we running away for, I say ? Are we beaten? Can't all you drcssed-up Englishmen hold a bunch of farmers in check ? God, man ! here we are, scuttling across the country as though the very devil were after us. The whole British army can't even protect a man and his home." Then, after he had gotten over the worst of his rage, he w^ould often end by saying, " Anne. girl, if we had put our trust in the farmers we'd be all right now." Temple would always take these outbreaks very meeklv, merely trying to explain to Mr. Bradford that they were not fleeing at all. but were simply travelling to New^ York, where they would be much better off than in Philadelphia. If the rebels came after them, why that was the rebels' own affair and not theirs. It was Temple's opinion that the Rag- Tag army was making a clever move. It was making the world think that they were chasing the British. He thought they wouk' take care not to come too near the British, though. Temple, in turn, became annoyed when Anne ex- ■i i THE DAY AT MONMOUTH 269 pressed her doubts as to this last thought of his. Anne fcU quite sure that this Rag-Tag army meant business and would attack the moment they came up witli them. On the evening of the 27th, after a particularly long and rough day's journey, they arrived at Mon- mouth Court-House. Here they had the good for- tune to find a small deserted farm-house, which they occupied before any other people came up. Temple put a minute's work on it and cleared it up a bit, then he left Mr. Bradford and Anne in the care of their old coachman and went to take up his duty in the army. That night proved to be a most wretched one for everybody. The heat grew more and more oppres- sive, and, to add to this, the rumour reached the ears of the Tories that the rebel army was catching up. and would, in all probability, overtake them be- fore morning. With such a possibility as this on their minds it is small wonder they could not sleep. In the morning their fears w^ere found to be well grounded. Whilst the British slept the Americans had marched. So the servants of the King did not continue on their way that day towards New York. Instead, they threw up rough earth-works, dug deeper trenches, and marshalled their lines for bat- tle. Nor did the rebels keep the British soldiers J M t r III'' ! 1. u 1 't: I; 1 ■A', i 270 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE waiting long at their posts. They arrived on the scene at a very creditable hour in the morning and attacked immediately. This attack, made by the American advance, was led by General Charles Lee. But this is ahead of the story. When at daybreak the good citizens of Philadel- phia, who were counting on the British army for protection against their enemies, spied the red- coated soldiers strenuously at work, erecting barri- cades, instead of marching on their way to New York, they were sore troubled. Were they then destined to see the horrors of war, these women and children? In the little farm-house on the hill the fears of war as yet played no part. Her father having spent a bad night, Anne was kept too busy waiting on him to think of anything else. Perhaps at times she took a moment to wonder whether or no David Wharton was with the rebel forces coming up or not. She was bathing her father's forehead in a small room up-stairs when Temjile called up to her from the yard in front. Anne ran to the window, and' the major explained to her that the enemy was on them and would attack immediately. He told her he had come eitlier to take her and Mr. Bradford away tc a safer place within the lines, or to stay with therr and protect them himself. THE DAY AT MONMOUTH 271 But Anne would not hear of either proposal. She insisted that they were quite safe where they were, but that his presence would betray them to the Tories, or, at least, make them more conspicu- ous. But the major was obstinate, and it was not untd Anne had shown herself capable of becoming very stern and authoritative did he finally consent to even put himself out of sight within the house. Hardly had the English officer disappeared be- hind the door when a voice called " Halt ! " some- wheres close by. Anne was standing in the garden at the time. Startled, she peered down through the little grove of trees in front of her. She could see nothing, but presently she heard voices, which seemed to be approaching her from the direction of the grove. She waited where she was, not knowing what else to do. A man, an officer of the Continentals, apf)eared at the edge of the trees, mopping his forehead as he walked. He glanced up and caught sight of the girl standing near the house. Without saluting her in any way. but continuing to mop his forehead, he blurted out. " My God, Miss, what a perfect hell of a day for heat!" Then staring rudely into the girl's face the man (p I M ; .1 li ' m jt ■it' I HH • II.' 'Il . IX, I , li: 1' |^i;lfi:;|ii 1 1: ^ ^ ( oi It ! < r if :. ! 27« A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE recognized her. "What! — why, it's Anne!" he cried. Nt)t until that moment had Anne reahzed that the rebel officer was liarnahas. " What brings you, of all people, to this, of all places?" he demanded. " We were following the King's army to New York, as many Loyalists are, and my father and I stopped here all night," Anne replied rather timidly. Her brother looked very fierce and mighty in his dusty uniform of an officer of the Massachusetts Line. She wondered if she and her father were safer or in greater danger by the presence of Barna- bas. At that moment heavy firing broke out in the valley below them. Barnabas rushed anxiously and peered over the l I ■' f ' t ' J InH'fP .j!,.; .it- ■, s you can help me in: only you, do you hear? and, — O (iod! Anne, if you fail me again! Hut there! it's only this: (ieneral Lee is attacking over in the valley. In a few minutes hcMl sound the retreat and his men will turn hack and tiee in panic right through the rehel army, hreaking their formation. You get word to Clinton. I don't care how or hy whom, that he can send any force he likes by here, bv this hill, which we've ff)rtificd. and he'll not he molested. That's all. He has been in communica- tion with T.ee and will understand. Will you do this. Anne? " Barnabas glared down closely into her eyes, and dug his fingers deeper into her soft arm. "Get word to Temple, if you like; he can in- form Clititon." .\nne had hardly understood what he was saying all this time, she was so startled by his behaviour. Before she could answer him. Barnabas said, " If you refuse. I'll have. — the old man's in that house, isn't he? Well, I'll have him taken prisoner by the men over there, and God knows what they'll do to im. " No. no. I'll go." Anne was thinking swiftly now. Temple must know nothing, she decided : therefore Barnabas must not enter the house and find him there. She cared not a snr.p for the cause TTIK DAY AT MONMOrTH 275 of the British, Iicr whole heart had long ago gone over to the rebels; ami the reason is not far to Sick. \o, she decided, Temple must know nothing, iKjr Sir Henry Clinton either. A plot to ruin the Continental army had been shown her; and she decided that there was but one thing for her to do. She must give warning. As Barnabas. aft( r warning her to make all pos- sible speed, had started back for the grove, Anne felt .safer about entering the house. Ccjusequently she rushed in to find the cloak which she had left up-stairs in the room uhcre Mr. Bradford was rest- ing. She had forgotten about Temple, and so was greatly surpri.sed and disturbed at finding him there in the room talking with her father. Both men started speaking to her at the same time, and both were e.xcited. The younger man, however, gave way. and Mr. Bradford ex- claimed, " We heard him, .\nne. every word he said. The major will go; is going instantly. What are you taking your cloak for ? " Temple ru.shed over to stop her from leaving the room. " Anne." he cried, " don't think of it. I know where the general is and will go straight to him. Leave it all to mc." Pi f 876 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE 1 ; ;. ; 5 rii ■! I tiirsi !!■ »1 ! At this Anne gave in; that is, she decided she must wait until after Temple had gone. She dropped her cloak back on to the chair and said, " Well, go instantly. Go now.'' She was Hushed and felt mean and ashamed of herself at that moment. She was conscious that Temple nust just now have learned that it was she who had betrayed their secret that night: the be- trayal that had resulted in their defeat at Valley Forge. Also she was conscious that even at this moment she was trying to betray them again. She was afraid thai the Englishman would stop now, and she pres.sed him to make haste. If he \\ere to linger there a minute he might bring up that dread subject, her work in the X'alley Forge failure, and she was determined that he should not. i 'e said nothing, but there was more painful emotion ex- pressed in his eyes, when he looked at her as he went out, than words could express. He left the house by way of a back window. The moment thev were alone Mr. Bradford turned to .Anne. "What does he mean, Anne?" he demanded. " What had you to do with Valley Forge? What? What? TIow did you betray them? " Anne stood with her back to her father, looking out of the small paneless window. THE DAY AT MONMOUTH 277 " I sent David Wharton to warn Washington," slie said. " Von did ! " roared John, sitting bolt upright on the blankets where he had been lying. " How did you — find cut that Washington was in danger? .\nne, I don't understand." But Anne had no time just then to explain to her father. She must hurry and warn Washington again now, before it was too late. She merely said, as she put on her cloak, " Barnabas wanted me to help him in his wicked schemes, and so explained everything to me: just as he had done this time." Mr. Bradford was in a quandary. He knew not whether he should get into a rage over his daugh- ter's actions or should praise them. He was a con- scientious man, in his way. and was always horrified by his son's wickedness, but he had not many scru- ples alxjut the way a good end was obtained. That was all business, and anything short of murder seemed to him legitimate in business if a good end was to be obtained. Therefore, as the taking of Washington, by one means or another, would have meant the ending of the war, good business, he be- gan to think that .Anne had done a terrible thing in having frustrated the plans. But she had no inten- tion of waiting for him to work himself into a pas- r. 278 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE im N'i *"'■' I J? Ill ,i!: « r sion. She said siie would return very shortly and slipped from the room. The object of his growing wrath no longer in sight John's outward show of anger quickly died away before the fear which the noise of the battle inspired in him. But he was very atigry with Anne nevertheless, and was strongly resolved to have it out with her the first chance he got. Meanwhile he occupied himself by listening intently to the dread sound of fighting, which, to his trembling ears, seemed to be increasing in violence, and to be com- ing closer every minute. Presently he heard men running over the ground in front of the house close under his window. What if some of these rebel fellows should come up and find him there, he won- dered. Fxclamations of surprise, then of anger broke out from amongst the soldiers, such as "What are they doin'? Are they breaking up? God! they're runnin'! They're runnin' away!" And the old gentleman, lying up there on the floor in the little house, .shook with the fever of excite- ment and of fear. Not one minute after Anne had run from the house and ofif across the young, spring fields. Major Wharton bad ridden up through the ,.:rove in front of the house, followed hv a small body of horse- men. It was the exclamations of his men, as they f;i it^ ty THE DAY AT MONMOUTH 279 watched the battle below them in the valley, that ;\Ir. Bradford heard. Wharton saw that this hill was protected by a few small cannon, also he spied soldiers at work on the north slope, throwing up breast-works; so he decided his men had more important work to do somewhere else. He was about to order the captain to add h,s tro<)p to the attack of tlie main army on tlie left wmj^, which seemed to be rapidly weaken- "ig. when, to his horror, the American front be-an to g,ve way. He stared for a few moments, unable to believe that the retreat of General Ue's advance uas anything but a ruse, resorted to in the hopes of breaking the British formation. But when the re- treat turned into a veritable rout he was no longer undecided what to do. He had a commanding view of the whole situation from where he sat his horse on the crest of the hill. He saw where exactly a company or so of able horsemen thrown in on the nistant could yet perhaps save the dav; so. pointing out to the captain where he was to go, he sent the horsemen galloping down the fields. The major stayed a moment longer where he was atid watched the armies closelv. Suddenlv it flashed to li's mind that perhaps W'ashington knew nothing -f this defeat. He knew that Washington had en- ^n.sted the attack to General Lee. and tliat the com- 280 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE m Hi t'C; mander-in-chief had not yet conic up. It Washing- ton knew, he could yet rally the broken army. Would no one warn him? \\ hat \ s Lee doing all this time? The major turned his i.orse dbout and started on his mission to warn W 4iington. But at that moment Major Bradford appeared on the green, coming from the direction of the breast- works. David arrested his horse. " Does General Washington know of General Lee's retreat ? " he demanded. " Of course he knows," said Major Bradford. " I'm here to foitify this hill, to keep the British from cutting oflf the American retreat." "Where's Lee, then, all this time?" David de- manded excitedly. " There he is now. trying to rally his broken troops." Barnabas pointed to a horseman riding furiously hither and thither amongst the fleeing men. " Guess he can't do it though. The day is lost for us." " Good God," muttered David, and something welled up within him and choked further words. " But look, man," he cried, rousing himself to the sudden dangers confronting the army. " they're coming here; a strong force, coming to take this hill. If they take this hill our whole army will be ='«i THE DAY AT MONxMOUTH 281 destroyed. Quick, call up more men. Quick, I'll ride in and get "em." David drove his spurs into the horse, but before he could move Barnabas had seized his bridle. " Xo ! " he cried sharply. '• I'm in command of tills hill. You leave all that to me. Don't you meddle." " But, God, man ! don't you see them coming, the size of the force ? You can't hold the hill against them. Send for some men, or you'll be swept from here in another minute." "You mind your business." roared Barnabas, furious, " or I'll put you under arrest. I'm in com- mand here and will do things my own way." " I'll do what I damn please," answered David. " Let go the horse." Barnabas did not let go. In a flash David had slipped out of the saddle to the ground and jumped for him. Barnabas dodged aside, and at the same time jerked the reins with all his might and veiled at the horse. The beast reared in a panic.' then dashed off and disappeared amongst the trees. For a moment David forgot him=elf in his fury. He drew his sword, and Barnabas, cursing him the \vliile, was forced to defend himself. He shouted t" his men in the trenches, but when he glanced in tiicir direction he saw that the red-coated soldiers 282 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE il.--:] m II. were already upon them, and that they were attend- ing strictly to business. No shot had been fired by either side in this little attack, and if one had looked at all closely he could have seen that nobody was being seriously wounded either. The rebel soldiers in the trenches were giving in everywhere. Barnabas turned about while fighting so as to have his back towards the trenches, then he started running backward. David followed him a few paces, suddenly stopped, then stepped aside slipping his sword into its sheath. And Major Bradford ran to the trenches to make a show of resistance. In another minute the hill would have been in the hands of the enemy, and the battle of Monmout? would have gone down in history as a British vic- tory, and the great scheme of Barnabas Bradford would have yielded to its creator rich rewards. Bui it was not to be. The moments count everything; in the winning of a battle and here the moment; were valued and the battle won. Washington hac received word in the nick of time. He had graspec the situation in a flash ; had thrown forward hi: own forces : and sent out forces here and there tc ruard vital points; without literally a moment': loss of time. A strong force of infantry broke through thi trees and rushed out into the little clearing near th( ;i f THE DAY AT MONMOUTH 283 Iiouse. A small body of artillery-men, drawing three cannon, followed. Wharton shouted to them, and pointed to where, in the trenches, Major Brad- ford was losing the day to the British. The captain quickly formed his men into order, and led the ch.arge down against the all-but-victori- uus f:nglish. David joined this new force and charged with them. The struggle was short but fierce. The English soldiers had been given to understand that they xvould be allowed to take this hill from the enemy without any fighting. The rebels, holding the hill, had been instructed not to fire, nor even to fight hard. They had been told by their commander. Major Bradford, ihat their position was not worth lu)lduig. that they were to give it up. And so it took the attacking .soldiers some time to realize that they were being seriously resisted. When they did, they began to fight, but they were outnumbered, and at a disadvantage as to position. Slowly and in good order they backed away. Cheering, the Americans followed. The cannon roared at the scarlet lines from out of the grove at "ne side, mowing the ranks. Then the British turned and fled. The American soldiers started to follow the etiomy, but their officers sternly ordered them back ^, . ,t : » im 284 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE to the trenches. There they were set to worl strengthening the breast-works and lengthening th trenches at one end. David returned to the highe spot of ground near the house to see how the figh in the valley was progressing. The noise whicl had arisen to them as they fought in the trenches told him at least that the American army had no surrendered. And now a joyful sight met his gaze There was General Washington himself leading th troops into the battle ; the whole army was former and in good order : all those that had been runnini away a little while before were now pushing fot ward in good, unbroken lines, inspired with ne\ confidence by their great commander. Tlie British and .American batteries mounte along the hills on both sides were thundering. At such a sight as this, the Continental arm mended and strong again. Major Wharton brol< out into wild cheers, waving his naked sword abo\ his head. " We are saved ! We are saved," he shoute( "God bless you, Washington!" "What is it, David' Are we winning? 01 tell me ! " David turned quickly, recognizing Anne's voic and then she was nmning towards him from tl direction of the little grove. Tlis mind was t( -« THE DAY AT MONMOUTH 285 occupier! to leave any room for surprise at seeing lier or to wonder at her being here on this hill of battle. " WVre holdine: them. We're holding them," he ^.nd. "Look, come here, see!" He helped her on to the mound oi earth on which he was standing As she looked into the valley Anne was too im- pressed to utter a word. Here below her. spread •Hit m all directions, lay two whole armies; and for the first time in her life she was given an idea of what a battle meant. She was not so far away from the fighting but that she could distinguish the individual men ; she could see them strike and fall ; she saw met! smashed by the cannon-balls. During the first few moments that she looked on, the sight seemed so amazing, and even beautiful, that she rl.d not notice the horror of it. But presently she saw that, too, and she was sickened. The beautiful, long lines of scarlet, hid,! n every here and there by the clouds of white smoke; the glistening of the steels in the sun. as the troops marched to the front : the deafening crash of the cannon and mus- kets; these thrilled, but the horrors were there too. Anne turned from the sight, and rested for a moment on David's arm. Then she slowlv climbed down from the mound of earth. But David was n fir: ";;:! J; ) I 286 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORCE not aware that she had left him, so absorbed was h« in the progress of the battle. " Look, look, the wing gives way. They run Tliey run! " Out shot the major's sword a second time, anc up it went over his head as he shouted and shoutec his hurrahs. The enemy's right wing had broken ; then th( British had given way all along the line. Thi Americans had pressed after them; but the Britisl retreat was covered by their guns, so the victoriou soldiers were forced to desist. Only at one sid< where the cannon could not play on them did thi enemy run and the Americans pursue. After he had made sure that the victory \va; decisive David turned to find Anne. She was walk ing slowly towards the house, her head bowed. Hi called after her, but she did not notice him, thei he jumped down and ran over to her. " Anne," he cried. " it's a complete victory We've won everv'where. Think of it, Anne They're beaten." Anne looked up into his face and smiled sadly. " Yes. Davy, and I'm glad, too. Rut to thin! that perhaps / did it. — and my own side!" " What did yo?< do, Anne?" "I heard of the plot to — to sell, to ruin you ^--■a THE DAY AT MONMOUTH 287 cause. Davy; tl.e cause for uliicli I knew you were suffermg so much. I knew that General Lee would retreat at the critical moment and ruin all. I warned Washington in time." At that moment P.arnabas api)eared. coming towards them fnmi the direction of the trenches. Tlie left side of his face was covered with blood from an ugly wound on his forehead. He repeatedly brushed his cheek with his left hand, shaking the blood each time impatiently from his fingers on to tlie grass. '' 'Hien it is you that have saved us," cried David. " You more than anybody else." "How did she :^ave us?" demanded a harsh vf)ice from behind. They both turned to see who spoke and saw Bai- nabas. who was now quite clo.^o to them, for the first time. "What did she do?-" repeated the harsh voice. Although the voice came from Barnabas it did not seem to be his. Before Anne could stop him David got out. " She warned Washington in time. She saved the 'lay." This second sentence was drowned by Anne's cry of warning to David. Rut Barnabas already knew that the British had been defeated, and he had heard enough of what David said. ;«| I 288 A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE Even before David liad answered his (question this man coming towards them had looked nior Hke a beast than anything human, with the bloo< dripping from Iiis chin. But when Dr.vid said " She warned Washington," the beast was suddenl transformed into a devil. On this great scheme o his with Lee, Barnabas had trustctl all. With i he knew that he must stand or fall. It had failed He was ruined, and would soon be an outcast. I had failed at the moment when success seemed cer tain. And who was responsible for this disastrou turn of aiTfairs.'* When David said, "She warne Washington," Barnabas knew\ He eyed her for ; moment, then he muttered, " By God, I'm going h kill you ! " and si)rang at Anne. David was taktti so by surprise, having expects that Barnabas would be overjoyed at what his hall sister had done, that although he was nearer Ann than Barnabas was, he failed to get to her quit soon enough. Barnabas grabbed her by the arn threw her heavily to the ground, and was just draw ing his sword, when David got hold of him. Anne, when she saw Barnabas rushing at het had pluckily tried to defend herself, had attempte to keep him off by her outstretched arms. But, a we have seen, that did little good. Barnabas \va about to kill her where she lay upon the grounf: Tin: DAY AT MONMll Til 280 uhtu David seized liim by tiic neck \ ith both hands a.i.I hurle