Peggy Owen Patriot Part 43

"Myself alone, friend," replied Peggy, more and more amazed. "I wish food and a stable for my pony also. I will pay thee for it," she added with a sudden remembrance of the money that Henry Egan had given her.

"Well, come in." The door was opened, and the woman regarded her curiously as she entered. It was but a one-room hut, and a boy of twelve appeared to be its only occupant aside from the woman. He rose as the girl entered, and went out to attend the horse.

"Do you want something to eat?" asked the woman ungraciously.

"If thee pleases," answered Peggy, ill at ease at so much surliness. The woman placed food before her, and watched her while she ate.

"Where air you all going?" she asked presently.

"To Philadelphia, in the state of Pennsylvania," explained Peggy, who had found that many of the women in the Carolinas were but ill-informed as to locations of places.

"Is that off toward Virginia?"

"I must go through Virginia to reach there," said the girl.

"You're going wrong, then," the woman informed her. "You air headed now for South Carolina."

The girl uttered a cry of dismay.

At this moment the urchin reentered the hut, and whispered a moment to his mother. Instantly a change came over her. She turned to Peggy with a glimmer of a smile.

"Air you a friend?" she asked.

"Why, yes," answered Peggy, thinking naturally that she meant the sect of Quakers. "I should think thee would know that."

"You can't always tell down here. Sam says that you air riding Cap'n Hazy's horse. It used to stop here often last summer."

"Then that was why the pony brought me here," cried the girl in surprise. "I was lost. How strange!"

"Why, no. Horses always go where they are used to going," said the woman, in a matter-of-fact tone. "That is, if you give 'em their head.

When is the cap'n coming?"

"How should I know?" asked Peggy, staring at her. "I don't--"

"We air friends, miss. You needn't be afraid to say anything you like.

But you air right. Keep a still tongue in these times. 'Tis safest. And now, I reckon you'd like to go to bed?"

"Yes, if you please," answered the maiden, so amazed by the conversation that she welcomed the change for reflection. Was Captain Hazy the British commander of the foraging party who had come to the plantation, she wondered. It occurred to her that it might be wise to accept her hostess's advice to keep a still tongue.

There was but one bed in the room, and this was given Peggy, while the mother and son simply lay down upon the floor before the fire, which was the custom among mountaineers. Without disrobing the girl lay down, but not to sleep. She was uneasy, and the more she reflected upon her position the more it came to her that she had been rash to start out alone as she had done.

"But I won't turn back now," she decided. "I will take some of the money which Friend Henry gave me, and hire some one to take me home. 'Tis what I should have done at first."

At the first sign of dawn she was astir. The woman rose at the same time, and prepared her a hot breakfast.

"Now you just go right down that way," she told Peggy, as the maiden mounted her pony, indicating the direction as she spoke. "That'll take you down to the Cross Creek road. Ford the river at Cross Creek, and you will be right on the lower road to Virginia."

Peggy thanked her, gave her a half guinea, and departed. Could she have followed the direction given she would, as the woman said, have been on the lower road to Virginia, but alas, such general directions took no account of numerous crossroads and forkings, and the maiden was soon in a maze. That night she found a resting-place at a farmhouse where the accommodations were of a better nature, but when she tried to hire a man for guidance not one seemed willing to go.

"They were needed at home," they said. "There were so many raiding parties that men could not be spared." Which was true, but disheartening to Peggy.

In this manner three days went by. At long distances apart were houses of some description, and many ruins, some of them smoldering.

On the afternoon of the third day Peggy was riding along slowly, thoroughly discouraged, when all at once from the dense woods that lined the roadway there emerged the form of a horseman.

He was hatless and disheveled in appearance, and he surveyed the road as though fearful of meeting a foe. As his glance fell upon the maiden he uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, and dashed toward her.

"Peggy," he cried staring at her in amaze, "what in the world are you doing down here in South Carolina? I thought you in Virginia by this time."

"I would not be surprised if thee told me that I was in Africa,"

answered poor Peggy half laughing, half crying. "I started for Virginia, but took a wrong turning, and seem to have kept on taking them ever since. I don't want to be down here, but no one will come with me to guide me, and I always go wrong on the crossroads."

In spite of the gravity of the situation Drayton, for it was he, laughed.

"Nay," he said, "let me believe that you came down here to help me deliver my despatches to Marion. I will have to take you in charge. Let me think what to do. I have it! There is a farmhouse where Whigs are welcomed near here. You shall stay there until these papers are delivered, and then we shall see if something can't be arranged."

"Oh, thank thee, John," cried she, mightily relieved. "'Tis so nice to have some one to plan. I shall do just as thee says, for I begin to believe that I am not so capable as I thought."

"These winding roads are enough to confuse any one," he told her. "You are not alone in getting lost, Peggy. Some of the soldiers do too, if they are not familiar with localities."

Cheered by this meeting, Peggy's spirits rose, and she chatted gaily, not noticing that Drayton kept looking behind them, and that he frequently rode a little ahead, as though he were on the lookout.

"What is it?" she asked at length becoming aware that something was amiss. "Is there danger, John?"

"Yes, Peggy. South Carolina is full of British, you know. I must watch for an ambush. I would not fail to deliver these despatches for anything. They are important, and as I told you the other day, all of us who were under Arnold will be suspected until tried."

Peggy grew pale. "I did not know there was danger, John. Doth my presence increase your anxiety?"

"'Tis pleasure to have you, Peggy, but I would rather you were in Virginia for your own safety. However, we shall soon turn into a side road which will lead to that farmhouse I spoke about. I could no longer get through the woods, or I should not have left them for the highway.

But had I not done so I would not have met you. 'Tis marvelous, Peggy, that you have met with no harm."

"Why should I meet with any?" she queried. "I am but a girl, and can bring hurt to none."

Drayton drew rein suddenly, and listened.

"We must make a run for it, Peggy," he cried. "The British are coming. I gave them the slip a while ago, but I hear them down the road. If we can reach the lane we may escape them."

Peggy called to Star, and the boy and girl struck into a gallop. It was soon evident, however, that Drayton was holding back his horse for Peggy to keep pace with him. As Peggy realized this a whoop from the pursuers told that they had caught sight of them, and the clattering hoofs that they were gaining upon them.

"John," she cried, "go on! Thee can get away then."

"And leave you, Peggy? Never," he answered.

"But thy despatches? Thee just told me they must be delivered. Thee must go on."

"No," he replied with set lips.

"'Tis thy duty," she said imploringly.