Peggy Owen Patriot Part 14

"He hath not been well, but is so now," she said.

"You have something to ask of me," he said keenly. "Speak out, Miss Peggy. I knew not that he was a friend of yours."

"He hath not been until of late," she answered troubled as to how she should broach the subject. "Sir," she said presently, plunging boldly into the matter, "suppose that after serving three long years a soldier should weaken? Suppose that such an one grew faint hearted at the prospect of another winter such as the one just pa.s.sed at Valley Forge; would thee find it in thy heart to blame him, if, for a time, he should"-she paused searching for a word that would express her meaning without using the dreadful one, desert-"he should, well-retire without leave until he could recover his strength? Would thee blame him?"

"Do you mean that Drayton hath deserted?" he asked sternly.

"He did; but he repents," she told him quickly. "Oh, judge him not until I tell anent it. He wants to go back. His courage failed only because of sickness. Now he is ready and willing, nay, even eager to go back even though he meets death by so doing. As he says himself 'twas naught but the cold, and hunger, and scanty clothing that drove him to it." Peggy's eyes grew eloquent with feeling as she thought of the forlorn condition of the lad when she first saw him.

"And if he goes back, will he not have hunger, and cold, and scanty clothing to endure again?" he asked harshly.

"Yes; but now he hath rested and grown strong," she answered. "He will have the strength to endure for perchance another three years should the war last so long. He wants to go back. He wants a chance to redeem himself."

"And had he not the courage to come to me himself without asking you to intercede for him?" he demanded. "He was in my command, and he knows me as only the soldiers do know me. Since when hath Benedict Arnold ceased to give ear to the distress of one of his soldiers? I like it not that he did not appeal to me of himself."

"He wished to," interposed the girl eagerly. "Indeed, 'twas mother's and my thought for me to come to you. We thought, we thought"-Peggy faltered, but went on bravely-"we thought that thee should be approached diplomatically. We wished the lad to have every chance to redeem himself, and we feared that if thee saw him without preparation thee might be inclined to give him to the recruiting officer. He is so sincere, he wishes so truly to have another chance that mother and I could not bear that he should not have it. I have made a poor advocate, I fear," she added with a wistful little smile, "though he did say that he would rather die than face thee."

"Unravel the matter from the beginning," he commanded, with a slight smile at her confession of diplomacy.

And Peggy did so, beginning with the time that the lad mended the saddle on the road, the loss of her pony, and everything leading to Drayton's stay with them, even to the making of the uniform of blue and buff and the reading of "The Crisis."

"Upon my life," he cried laughing heartily at this. "I shall advise General Washington to appoint you to take charge of our fainthearted ones. So he did not relish being called a summer soldier, eh? Miss Peggy, I believe that I should like to see the lad, and have a talk with him."

"Thee will not be harsh with him, will thee?" she pleaded. "He hath indeed been in a woeful plight, and he could not bear it from thee. And he doth consider the country ungrateful toward him."

"He is right," commented Arnold, a frown contracting his brow.

"Ungrateful indeed! Not only he but others have suffered from her injustice. Have no fear, Miss Peggy, but take me to him at once."

Nevertheless Peggy felt some uneasiness as the coach turned in the direction of her home.

CHAPTER XII-ANOTHER CHANCE

"Thy spirit, Independence, let me share, Lord of the lion-heart and eagle eye; Thy steps I follow, with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.

Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime Hath bleached the tyrant's cheek in every varying clime."

-Smollett.

Drayton was lying on the settle when Peggy announced General Arnold. He sprang to his feet with an exclamation as the latter entered, and then shrank back and hung his head.

"You, you," he murmured brokenly. "Oh, how can you bear to see me?"

"And is it thus we meet again, Drayton?" said the general, all the reserve and hauteur of his manner vanishing before the distress of his former soldier.

"'Twas cold," muttered Drayton too ashamed to raise his head. "I-I feared it sir. You cannot understand," he broke out. "How can a man of your courage know how such things eat the very heart out of a fellow?"

"I do know, boy," exclaimed Arnold seating himself on the settle. "What would you say if I were to tell you that once I deserted?"

"You?" cried the youth flinging up his head to stare at him. "I'd never believe it, sir. You desert! Impossible!"

"Nevertheless, I did, my lad. Listen, and I will tell you of it. I was fifteen at the time, and my imagination had been fired by tales of the atrocities committed on the frontier by the French and Indians. I resolved to enlist and relieve the dire state of my countrymen as far as lay in my power. So I ran away from home to Lake George, where the main part of the army was at the time. The wilderness of that northern country was dense, and I pa.s.sed through hardships similar to those we sustained in our march to Quebec. You know, Drayton, what an army may have to endure in such circ.u.mstances?"

Drayton nodded, his eyes fixed on his beloved leader with fascinated interest.

"Well," continued the general, "the privations proved too much for a lad of my age, so I deserted, and made my way home. I shall never forget the fright my good mother would be in if she but caught a glimpse of the recruiting officer. I was under the required age for the army, to be sure, but none the less I skulked and hid until the French and Indian war had ceased, and there was no longer need for hiding."

"You," breathed the youth in so low a tone as scarce to be heard, "you did that, and then made that charge at Saratoga? You, sir?"

"Even I," the general told him briefly. "'Tis a portion of my life that I don't often speak of, Drayton, but I thought that it might help you to know that I could understand-that others before you have been faint hearted, and then retrieved themselves."

"You?" spoke the lad again in a maze. "You! and then after that, the march through that awful wilderness! Why, sir, 'twas you that held us together. 'Twas you, that when the three hundred turned back and left us to our fate, 'twas you who cried: 'Never mind, boys! There'll be more glory for the rest of us.' 'Twas you that cheered us when our courage flagged. 'Twas you that carried us through. And then Valcour! Why, sir, look at the British ships you fought. And Ticonderoga! And Crown Point!

And Ridgefield, where six horses were shot from under you!"

"And do you remember all those?" asked Arnold, touched. "Would that Congress had a like appreciation of my services; but it took a Saratoga to gain even my proper rank."

"I know," cried the boy hotly. "Haven't we men talked it over by the camp-fires? Were it left to the soldiers you should be next to the commander-in-chief himself."

"I know that, my lad," spoke the general, markedly pleased by this devotion. "But now a truce to that, and let us consider your case. Miss Peggy here tells me that you wish to return to the army?"

"I do," said the youth earnestly. "Indeed, General Arnold, no one could help it about her. She gave me no peace until I so declared myself."

"I understand that she read 'The Crisis' to you," said Arnold, a smile playing about his lips. "But you, Drayton. Aside from that, is it your wish to return to the army? It hath ofttimes been in my thoughts of late to obtain a grant of land and retire thereto with such of my men as were sick and weary of the war. I have in truth had some correspondence anent the subject with the state of New York. Would you like to be one of my household there?"

"Beyond anything," spoke Drayton eagerly. "But not until I have redeemed myself, general. Were I to go before you would always be wondering if I would not fail you at some crucial moment. You have won your laurels, sir, and deserve retirement. But I have mine to gain. Give me another chance. That is all I ask."

"You shall have it, Drayton. Come with me, and I will send you with a note to General Washington. He hath so much of friendship for me that because I ask it he will give you the chance you wish."

"But the uniform," interposed Peggy who had been a pleased listener to the foregoing conversation. "I made him a uniform, Friend Arnold. Should he not wear it?"

"'Twould be most ungallant not to, Miss Peggy," returned the commander laughing.

"I knew not that you had made it," exclaimed Drayton as Peggy disappeared, and returned with the uniform in question. "Why, 'tis but a short time since I said that I would go back. How could you get it done so soon?"

Peggy laughed.

"It hath been making a long time," she confessed. "Mother helped me with dyeing the cloth, but all the rest I did myself. I knew that thee would go back from the first."

"'Twas more than I did then," declared Drayton as the girl left the room once more in search of her mother. "Sir, could a man do aught else than return to his allegiance when urged to it by such a girl?"

"No," agreed his general with a smile. "Drayton, your friend hath clothed you with a uniform of her own manufacture. You have shown an appreciation of Benedict Arnold such as I knew not that any held of my services to the country. Take therefore this sword," unbuckling it from his waist as he spoke. "'Tis the one I used in that dash at Saratoga that you followed. Take it, Ensign Drayton, and wear it in memory of him who was once your commanding officer."

"Your sword?" breathed Drayton with a gasp of amazement. "Your sword, General Arnold? I am not worthy! I am not worthy!"

"Tut, tut, boy! I make no doubt but that you will wield it with more honor than it hath derived from the present owner," said the other pressing it upon the lad.