In the Days of Washington Part 15

"Perhaps you can?" and the Colonel turned to Barnabas.

The old man shook his head. "It's a private matter, sir," he replied, "an' my lips are sealed. But what this young lieutenant says is all true."

Colonel Butler looked puzzled and vexed. "Whom did Major Langdon put in command of the party?" he sharply inquired of G.o.dfrey.

"Simon Gla.s.s, sir."

"And why were you--an officer of rank--sent along as a subordinate?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't even know fully the object of the expedition."

"Gla.s.s, you can explain this mystery," exclaimed the Colonel, losing patience.

"Sir, would you have me betray my trust?" demanded Gla.s.s, with well-feigned indignation. "You saw my papers yesterday. You know that they are signed by Major Langdon, and that I am acting under his orders."

"And under mine as well, sir," replied the Colonel, with a frown. "There can be no independent commands while I have control here. Come, we'll drop the question of Major Langdon's authority. I want you to do some work for me to-morrow. You are just the man for it, and you can have the force you led out of the fort when my back was turned."

"I am at your service, sir," Gla.s.s replied in a mollified tone.

The Colonel nodded. "You may as well camp here for the balance of the night, and start early in the morning. Scour the whole upper part of the valley, and burn every cabin and house to its foundations."

A wicked smile showed how well pleased the ruffian was with his orders.

"How about the prisoners, sir?" he asked carelessly.

"The sentence stands," Colonel Butler replied grimly. "I will give them a few hours to prepare for death. Hang or shoot them at daybreak."

"I can't entertain your appeal," he added, to G.o.dfrey. "Your arguments do not mitigate the fact that these rebels were found in arms. I must do my duty."

In spite of Gla.s.s's angry and threatening looks G.o.dfrey made a second attempt to save the prisoners, but Colonel Butler cut him short in a manner that forbade further appeal. The officer was in an ugly mood, for his natural curiosity to solve the mystery connected with the cabin had been baffled. But matters of more importance demanded his immediate presence at the fort, and without delay he marched off at the head of the Royal Greens.

Gla.s.s's first act after the departure of Colonel Butler was to search Nathan thoroughly from head to foot, and the lad submitted with an air of surprise that was more feigned than real; by this time he had an inkling of what it all meant.

The ruffian could hardly conceal his disappointment when he failed to find what he wanted. He proceeded to search McNicol and Barnabas--luckily omitting the latter's boots--and then he reviled the prisoners with the most bitter taunts and insults his brutal mind could invent.

Nathan lost his temper and answered back, thereby receiving a cruel blow in the face; but Barnabas and McNicol stoically endured the shower of abuse. None of the three showed any sign of fear, though they knew they were to die in the morning, and their courage might well have won admiration and pity from a more chivalrous foe. But Simon Gla.s.s's half-dozen Tory comrades--who numbered among them the survivors of the squadron of dragoons--were as brutal and degraded as himself. The rest of the force were Indians, and mercy or pity could have been better expected from a pack of panthers than from these blood-thirsty Senecas.

The ruffian finally wearied of his pastime and walked toward the cabin, which was now nearly consumed. After watching the dying blaze for a moment he returned.

"How soon will those ruins be cool?" he asked of one of his companions.

"I should judge in about two or three hours," the man replied.

Gla.s.s looked pleased. "We'd better be turning in," he continued, "for we must take an early start in the morning. We'll hang the rebels before we go. Bring them over yonder now."

He led the way to a thicket of low bushes that stood on the near bank of the spring. In the centre of the thicket were three saplings, and to these the prisoners were secured in a sitting position, with their arms fastened behind them and their backs turned to one another. Having seen that the work was done thoroughly, Gla.s.s departed.

"You'd better be praying, you rebels," he said, in a sneering tone, "for your necks will stretch at the first light of dawn."

The night was very warm and the Tories and Indians stretched themselves in groups amid the thick gra.s.s that carpeted the clearing. A sentry was posted on guard at the thicket, and as he paced to and fro with loaded musket the upper part of his body was visible to the captives. They could see no others of the party for the bushes, but the silence indicated that all were asleep. G.o.dfrey had kept in the background after Colonel Butler's departure, either for the purpose of shunning Gla.s.s or to avoid those he had vainly tried to befriend.

There was no hope of escape, and for a while the wretched little group talked in whispers, each n.o.bly endeavoring to cheer and comfort the others. None had rested much on the previous night, and finally Barnabas and McNicol fell asleep.

Nathan was now alone with his thoughts, and in the face of death his fort.i.tude almost deserted him, and his mind yielded to bitter anguish.

He lived the past over again--his boyhood days here in the valley, his years at college in Philadelphia, and then the string of terrible events that had begun with the loss of his father on Monmouth battle-field. But amid the conflicting thoughts that distressed him the memory of G.o.dfrey's strange words was uppermost.

"What can it mean?" the lad asked himself. "Is it possible that Major Langdon sent Simon Gla.s.s here to find and steal these papers? He heard my father tell me where they were, but why would he want to get them? It is a deep mystery--one too incredible to be true!"

Vainly the lad puzzled himself, and at last he fell into a restless sleep. A couple of hours later he awoke with a start, realizing at once where he was, and dreading to find that dawn had come. The moon was far down and under a bank of clouds, and the cabin had long ago burnt itself out to the last spark. But, from the direction of the ruins, floated a dull noise and the sound of low voices.

"Barnabas, are you awake?" Nathan whispered.

"Yes, lad," muttered the old man, and as he spoke McNicol opened his eyes and twisted his cramped body.

Before more could be said the bushes rustled, and a dusky figure shouldering a musket crept softly into the thicket. G.o.dfrey--for it was, indeed, he--put a finger to his lips. "Hush!" he whispered. "I've come to save you. All are sleeping, except Gla.s.s and four of the Indians.

They're poking about in the ashes of the cabin, and we must get away before they return. I am going with you, for my life is equally in danger."

He stooped down with a knife in one hand, and quickly severed the cords that held the prisoners. "Now come," he added. "Look where you step, and don't even breathe loudly."

Nathan and his friends rose, trembling with joy, and almost doubting the reality of their good fortune. But they knew by what extreme caution safety must be won, and as noiselessly as shadows they trailed their sore and stiffened bodies behind G.o.dfrey to the farther edge of the thicket.

The young officer had thought out his plans beforehand, and with a warning gesture he stepped into the spring at the point where it became a narrow rivulet, and brawled its course swiftly across the lower corner of the clearing. The others followed, and the murmur of the waters drowned what slight noise was unavoidable.

Now came the critical moment. With anxious hearts the fugitives waded slowly down the stream, crouching low beneath the fringe of tall gra.s.s that concealed, on both sides, the sleeping forms of Tories and Indians.

On and on they went amid unbroken silence, and at last the dense foliage of the wood closed over them like an arch. They had safely pa.s.sed the limits of the camp. They waded twenty yards further, and then stepped on land.

G.o.dfrey handed his musket to Barnabas. "You know the country," he whispered. "Lead as you think best."

"We'll make a wide detour back of the fort," Barnabas replied, "an' then come around to the river at the lower end of the valley."

On a brisk trot they started toward the northwest, and as they hurried along the forest trails that the old woodsman chose, G.o.dfrey briefly told what all were anxious to know.

"I got awake a bit ago," he said, "and heard Gla.s.s instructing four of the worst Indians to tomahawk you people just before daylight. They were to kill me at the same time, and pretend it was done by mistake. That was to be Gla.s.s's revenge for what I said to-night. I remained perfectly still, pretending to be asleep, and when Gla.s.s and the Indians went over to the cabin, I decided all at once what to do. I told the sentry I had been ordered to relieve him, and he handed over his musket without a word. He was asleep in two minutes, and my way was clear."

Barnabas and McNicol warmly thanked the lad, and Nathan impulsively clasped his hand.

"I hope we are friends again, G.o.dfrey," he said. "I will never forget what you did to-night."

"I will do more, if I ever get the chance," G.o.dfrey answered. "But I can't explain now--wait until we are certain of freedom."

By this time the fugitives were a mile from the enemy's camp, and before they had gone twenty yards further a faint outcry behind them told them that their escape was discovered. All now depended on speed, for it was certain that the Indians, by the aid of torches, would follow the trail with the unerring keenness of blood-hounds.

Barnabas led the little party at a steady pace, taking them several miles to the rear of the fort before he turned parallel with the river.

Now they headed for the lower end of the valley, and for nearly three hours, while they traversed the lonely and gloomy forest, they heard no sound but the chirp of night-birds and the distant cries of prowling wild animals.

"I can't keep this up much longer," panted Nathan. "The Indians may be close behind, but for my part I believe they've lost the trail."

"Mebbe so, lad," replied Barnabas, "though the quietness ain't an indication of it. We're all badly winded, but the river ain't far off now. Onct we git across, or find a boat--"