My Lady of Doubt Part 12

I could not perceive the expression of the man's face, but he was a long while answering.

"Oh, yes. She told you about him?"

"It was mentioned. Would I know the boy from any resemblance to his sister?"

"Y--yes, at least I should suppose so. You must have become very intimate for her to have told you that. You see it--it is a family secret."

"Nothing for Tories to boast over, I should imagine. However, it came up naturally enough while we spoke of the sufferings of the American army during the winter. It is a sad thing the way this war has divided families. Has Mistress Claire any Colonial sentiments?"

"How the devil do I know! She would not be likely to air them before me.

I don't know what fool trick you played on her last night, but she's on the right side just the same."

"I think so, too."

His manner was so disagreeable that I instantly determined to have an end. I had more important work before me than quarrelling with this fellow, and, somehow, his claimed intimacy with Mistress Mortimer grated upon me strangely.

"If that is all you requested an interview for, Captain Grant," I said coldly, "I'll trouble you to return to your men."

I followed him closely back toward the fire, and neither spoke until we reached the guard-lines. Then he turned his face toward me.

"Have you a party out after the lieutenant?"

"No; probably he ran into our horse guard across the creek. If not, the three who are reported to have got away can do us no harm. Why are you so interested?"

"That is my affair," he replied, insolently, and walked across the open square, with shoulders squared.

Irritated that I had even condescended to question him, I turned back up the road to where the men were yet busy about the wagons, spoke a few words to Duval, he explaining to me the best route toward the river crossing at Burlington, and then swung into the saddle and sent the black forward to the crest of the ridge. The animal was restive, and hard to control; I cast a single glance backward to where the blaze of the fires lit up the busy figures below, and then plunged forward into the black night, unable to see the road, but trusting the instincts of the horse.

I permitted the animal to go his own gait, and for a mile or more he kept up a hot gallop, finally tiring to a trot. By this time my eyes had accustomed themselves sufficiently to the gloom so as to dimly perceive the outline of the highway, and the contour of the surrounding country.

It was not a thickly settled region, although we pa.s.sed two houses, and several cultivated fields, the latter unfenced. Duval had spoken of a turn to the westward, but I perceived no branching of the road, and began to wonder if we had not pa.s.sed the spot during that first rush. So far as I could judge from the few stars visible we were travelling almost due north. However, I was certainly getting farther away from the British lines, and could swing to the left at daylight. It made little difference where I struck the Delaware; every mile north added to my safety.

The silence of the night, the dull monotony of the landscape, caused my mind to drift backward over the rapidly occurring events of the past two days. They all seemed natural enough--merely such a series of adventure as could occur to any one between the lines of two contending armies,--and yet a trail of mystery seemed to run through it all, becoming more and more perplexing. Why should Claire Mortimer have saved me from capture? What could have caused her so suddenly to array herself against those who were nearest her in life, to a.s.sist a mere stranger?

Who was the girl? Were those few words spoken to me the truth, or were they intended to deceive? I could scarcely believe the last possible, for she could have no object in leading me astray. The dividing of families was nothing new; the very fact that she possessed a brother in arms with the Colonies was evidence that the younger blood was arrayed against the King. As to her engagement with Grant I scarcely gave that a second thought, for I knew she despised him, and was of too determined a character to surrender at the will of others. She might permit him to suppose she was compliant, for some object of her own, but there would surely be an hour of rebellion.

The memory of her arose clearly before me--the smile in those frank blue eyes, the proud poise of the head, the banter of the soft voice, and the words spoken. While she had said nothing convincing--merely an expression of womanly sympathy for the sufferings of the patriot army--yet I could not drive away the impression left that she was desirous that final victory perch upon our banners. Otherwise why should she have championed me, aided my escape, realizing, as she did, my mission in Philadelphia? I felt a sudden determination to learn the truth, to meet with her again under pleasanter circ.u.mstances. There was but one way in which this might be accomplished. I would seek out the brother on Lee's staff, the moment duty would permit. The way of accomplishment appeared to be so clear, so easy, that I ceased to dream, and began to plan. My horse had fallen into a long, swinging lope, bearing us forward rapidly. The moon had disappeared, but the sky was glittering with stars, and I could distinguish the main features of the country traversed. I was on the summit of a slight ridge, but the road swerved to the right, leading down into a broad valley. There were no signs of habitations, until we rounded the edge of a small grove, and came suddenly upon a little village of a dozen houses on either side the highway. These were wrapped in darkness, apparently deserted, shapeless appearing structures, although I thought one had the appearance of a tavern, and another seemed a store. There was a well in front of this last, and water sparkled in a log trough beside it. My horse stopped, burying his nostrils in the water, and, suddenly made aware of my own thirst, I swung, down from the saddle. My hands were upon the well-rope when, without warning, I was gripped from behind, and flung down into the dirt of the road. I made desperate effort to break away, but two men held me, one with knee pressed into my chest, the other uplifting the b.u.t.t of a pistol over my head. There was not a word spoken, but I could see they were in uniform, although the fellow kneeling on me had the features and long black hair of an Indian. My horse started to bolt, but his rein was gripped, and then a third figure, mounted, rode into the range of my vision.

"Search him for weapons, Tonepah," said a boyish voice briefly. "There are pistols in the saddle holsters, but he may have others. Then tie him up as quick as you can."

There was no mistaking my captors--the young dragoon lieutenant, and the three who had escaped with him. But why had they ridden in this direction? What object could they have in thus attacking me? They afforded me little opportunity for solving these problems. Had I been a bale of tobacco I could not have been treated with less ceremony, the white man unclasping my belt, while the Indian, with a grunt, flung me over on my face, and began binding hands and feet. I kicked him once, sending him tumbling backward, but he only came back silently, with more cruel twist of the rope, while the boy laughed, bending over his horse's neck.

"Hoist him up on the black, lads," he said shortly, reining back out of the way. "Delavan's horse, isn't it? Yes, tie his feet underneath, and one of you keep a hand on the reins. Peter, you and Ca.s.s ride with him. I want Tonepah with me. All ready? We'll take the east road."

Some one struck the horse, and he plunged forward, swerving sharply to the right in response to the strong hand on his bit. I swayed in the saddle, but the bonds held, and we went loping forward into the night.

CHAPTER XIII

INTRODUCING PETER

It was a new country to me that we traversed, a rolling country, but not thickly settled, although the road appeared to be a well-beaten track.

The gloom, coupled with the rapidity of our movements, prevented me from seeing anything other than those dim objects close at hand, yet we were evidently travelling almost straight east. I endeavored to enter into conversation with the two fellows riding on either side of me, but neither one so much as turned his head in response to my voice, and I soon tired of the attempt. The night told me little of who they might be, although they were both in the uniform of the Queen's Rangers, the one called Peter on my right a round, squat figure, and bald-headed, his bare scalp shining oddly when once he removed his c.o.c.ked hat; the other was an older man, with gray chin beard, and glittering display of teeth.

But I gave these small consideration, my thought centring rather on the two riding in front, the Indian slouching carelessly in his saddle, his real shape scarcely discernible, while the lieutenant sat stiff and straight, with head erect, his slender figure plainly outlined against the sky-line. He alone of the four spoke an occasional word, in the contralto boyish voice, of which I made little, however, and the Indian merely grunted an acknowledgment that he heard. The movements of my horse caused the ropes to lacerate my wrists and ankles, the pain increasing so that once or twice I cried out. The fellows guarding me did not even turn their heads, but the lieutenant drew up his horse so as to block us.

"What is the trouble? Are you hurt?"

"These ropes are tearing into the flesh," I groaned. "I'd be just as safe if they were loosened a bit."

I saw him lean forward, shading his face with one hand, as he stared toward me through the darkness. I thought he drew a quick breath as from surprise, and there was a moment's hesitancy.

"Let out the ropes a trifle, Peter," came the final order.

The little bald-headed man went at it without a word, the lieutenant reining back his horse slightly, and drawing his hat lower over his eyes.

In the silence one of the horses neighed, and the boy seemed to straighten in his saddle, glancing suspiciously about.

"Ride ahead slowly, Tonepah," he ordered. "I'll catch up with you." He turned back toward me. "Who are you, anyway?"

Surprised at the unexpected question, my first thought was to conceal my ident.i.ty. These were King's men, and I was in ordinary clothes--the rough homespun furnished by Farrell. If, by any chance, I was not the party they had expected to waylay, I might be released without search.

"Who am I?" I echoed. "Do you mean you have gone to all this trouble without knowing whom you hold prisoner?"

"It seems so," coolly. "We know who we thought you were, but I am beginning to doubt your being the right man. Peter, take his hat off."

I straightened up bareheaded, the faint star-gleam on my face. The lieutenant remained quiet, but Peter broke his sphinx-like silence.

"Tain't him, is it?"

"No; he must have taken the other road after all," with a slight laugh.

"We've been on a wild-goose chase. However, it's too late now to catch the fellow on this trip."

Peter rubbed his bald pate, his eyes on me.

"An' what'll we do with this lad?" he answered drawlingly. "Turn him loose?"

"Bring him along. We'll find out to-morrow who he is, and what his business may be. Men are not riding these roads at midnight without some purpose."

He wheeled his horse, and, with a touch of the spur, disappeared in the darkness ahead. Peter clambered back into the saddle, and gripped my rein.

"Come on," he said disgustedly, kicking the black in the side. "It's a ways yet afore yer lie down."

We rode steadily, and at a good pace. Occasionally the older man swore solemnly, but Peter never uttered a sound, not even turning his head at my attempts to draw him into conversation. The situation mystified me, but it became more and more evident that I should have to wait until morning before learning the truth. Neither guard would open his lips, and the lieutenant rode straight forward, merely a dim shadow, in advance.

There was no figuring the affair out. Why should these fellows, who, earlier in the evening, had been part of Delavan's wagon guard, be in ambush to waylay some rider on the Bristol road? Who was it they sought to capture? Where were they taking me, and why was I not released as soon as they discovered their mistake? These were the main questions, but there were others also arising in mind. This did not seem to me like an ordinary party of troopers; there was an offhand freedom from discipline totally unlike the British service. Neither Peter nor the Indian seemed to belong to the cla.s.s with which the army was recruited. Peter appeared more like a well-trained servant, and his riding was atrocious. And the lieutenant! There came back to me the haunting memory that he had joined Delavan as a volunteer--the Dragoon uniform sufficient proof that he was neither of the original foraging party of Hessians, nor of Grant's detachment of Rangers. Yet these others wore the green and white, and must, therefore, have been in Grant's command. How did the four manage to escape from our attack, evidently animated by one purpose? Why was Grant so anxious to learn if I had seen the lieutenant, and whether we had a party out seeking him? Not one of these questions could I answer; not one could I even guess at with any degree of satisfaction.

We were coming out of the low, swamp lands into a more thickly settled, and cultivated region. Rail and stone fences could be seen on either side the road, and we pa.s.sed swiftly by a number of farmhouses, some simple log structures, although one or two were more pretentious. In only one of these did a light shine, or any semblance of occupancy appear. Through the undraped window of a cottage I caught the glimpse of a woman bending over a cradle. At the sound of our horses' hoofs she glanced up, a frightened look in her face, but her eyes quickly returned to what must have been a sick child. It was like a picture thrown on a screen, and the next instant we were galloping on through the dark, with only the memory of it.

It may have been two miles further along, when the lieutenant, and his Indian companion, wheeled suddenly to the right, and, without slackening speed, rode through an open gate, and up a gravelled roadway, circling through a grove of trees to the front door of a great square mansion. It was dark and silent, a wide porch in front supported by huge pillars, a broad flight of steps leading from the driveway. The Indian ran up these, leaving the lieutenant holding his horse, while we drew up some yards to the rear. I heard the boom of the iron knocker, followed by a gleam of light through a lower window. Then a negro's voice spoke, and the front door opened, disclosing two figures, one with sputtering candle in hand.