The Little Red Foot Part 54

"Horse, foot, and baggage," said he cheerily. "When I say 'horse,' I mean young Jack-boots, for he departed first with the flag that took my Lady Johnson to New York."

"So everybody has gone," said I, blankly.

"Why, yes, John. The flag came from Schuyler and off went the ladies, bag, baggage, and servants.

"Then come Colonels Van Schaick and Dayton from Johnstown to inspect our works at this place and at Fish House. And two days later orders come to abandon Fish House and Summer House Point.... You do not remember hearing their drums?"

"No."

"You were very bad that day," he said soberly. "But when their music played you opened your eyes and nothing would do but you must rise and dress. Lord, how wild you talked, and I was heartily glad when their drumming died away on the Johnstown road."

"You mean to tell me that there is no longer any garrison on the Sacandaga?" I asked, amazed.

"None. And but a meagre one at Johnstown. It seems we need troops everywhere and have none to send anywhere. They've even taken your scout and your Oneidas."

"What!" I exclaimed.

"They left a week ago, John, to work on the new fort which is being fashioned out of old Fort Stanwix. So Dayton sends your scout thither to play with pick and mattock, and your Oneidas to prowl along Wood Creek and guard the batteaux."

"You tell me that the Sacandaga is left dest.i.tute of garrison or scouts!" I asked angrily. "And Tryon crawling alive with Tories!--and the Cadys and Helmers and Bowmans and Reeds and Butlers and Hares and Stephen Watts stirring the disloyal to violence in every settlement betwixt Schenectady and b.a.l.l.ston!"

"I tell you we are too few for all our need, John,--too few to watch all places threatened. Schuyler has but one regiment of Continentals now.

Gates commands at Crown Point and draws to him all available men. His Excellency is pressed for men in the South, too. Albany is almost defenceless, Schenectady practically unguarded, and only a handful of our people guard Johnstown."

"Where are the militia?" I demanded.

"Farming--save when the district call sends a regiment on guard or to work on the forts. But Herkimer has them in hand against a crisis, and I have no doubt that those Palatines will turn out to a man if Sir John comes. .h.i.ther with his murderous hordes."

I sat in silence, picking the bones of my pigeon. Nick said:

"Colonel Dayton came in here and looked at you. And when he left he said to me that you had proven a valuable scout; and that, if you survived, he desired you to remain here at the Summer House with me and with your Saguenay."

"For what purpose?" I demanded, sullenly.

"On observation."

"A scout of three! To cover the Sacandaga! Do they think we have wings?

Or are a company of tree-cats with nine lives apiece?"

"Well," said Nick, scratching his ear in perplexity, "I know not what our colonels and our generals are thinking; but the soldiers are gone, and our doctor has now departed, so if Dayton leaves us four people alone here in the Summer House it must be because there is nothing for the present to apprehend, either from Sir John or from any Indian or Tory marauders."

"_Four_ people?" I repeated. "I thought you said we were but three here."

"Why," said he, "I mean that we are three men--three rifles!"

"Is there a servant woman, also?"

He looked at me oddly.

"The Caughnawaga girl came back."

"What!"

"The Scottish girl, Penelope."

"Came back! When?"

"Oh, that was long ago--after the flag left.... It seems she had meant to travel only to Mayfield with them.... She had not said so to anybody.

But in the dark o' dawn she rides in on your mare, Kaya, having travelled all night long."

"'Why,' says I, 'what do you here on John Drogue's horse in the dark o'

dawn?'

"'If there's danger,' says she calmly, 'this sick man should have a horse to carry him to Mayfield fort.'

"Which was true enough; and I said so, and stabled your mare where Lady Johnson's horses had left a warm and empty manger."

"Well," said I harshly, as he remained silent.

"Lord, Jack, that is all I know. She has cooked for you since, and has kept this house in order, washed dishes, fed the chickens and ducks and pig, groomed your horse, hoed the garden, sewed bandages, picked lint, knitted stockings and soldiers' vests----"

"_Why?_" I demanded.

"I asked her that, John. And she answered that there was n.o.body here to care for a sick man's comfort, and that Dr. Thatcher had told her you would die if they moved you to Johnstown hospital.

"I thought she'd become frightened and leave when the Continentals marched out; they all came--the officers--where she sat a-knitting by the apple-tree; but she only laughed at their importunities, made light of any dangers to be apprehended, and refused a seat on their camp wagon. And it pleased me, John, to see how doleful and crestfallen were some among those same young blue-and-buffs when they were obliged to ride away that morning and leave here there a-sewing up your shirt where Balty's bullet had rent it."

A slight thrill shot me through. But it died cold. And I thought of Steve Watts, and of her in his embrace under the lilacs.

If she now remained here it was for no reason concerning me. It was because she thought her lover might return some night and take her in his arms again. That was the reason.

And with this miserable conclusion, a more dreadful doubt seized me.

What of the loyalty of a girl whose lover is a King's man?

I remembered how, in the blossoming orchard, she had whispered to me that she was a friend to liberty.

Was that to be believed of a maid whose lover came into our camp a spy?

I lay back on my pillow and closed my eyes. What was this girl to me that I should care one way or the other?

Nick took my platter and went away, leaving me to sleep as I seemed to desire it.

But I had no desire to sleep. And as I lay there, I became sensible that my entire and battered body was almost imperceptibly a-tremble.

CHAPTER XXI