The Master of Appleby Part 46

You may be sure, my dears, that I scarce drew breath till I was a-horse and out of the town and galloping hard on the road to that ford of Master Macgowan's which afterward became famous in our history under the misspelling "Cowan's Ford." 'Twas too good to be true that I should be thrust thus into the very gaping mouth of opportunity, and now and again I would feel the packet b.u.t.toned tight beneath my hussar jacket to make sure 'twas not a dream to vanish at a touch.

In the mad joy of it the spirit of prophecy came upon me, and I saw as if the thing were done, how at last I held the fate of the patriot cause in all our west country in the hollow of my hand.

x.x.xVII

OF WHAT BEFELL AT KING'S CREEK

Skipping lightly over the happenings of the two days following my departure from Charlotte on the king's errand, I may say that after pa.s.sing the British outposts at the crossing of the Catawba, I met neither friend nor foe; and from noon on I rode to the westward through a pitiless drizzling rain, splashed to the belt with the mire of the road, and having little chance to inquire my way.

This last lack grew with the pa.s.sing hours to the size of a threatening hazard. As you may have guessed, I knew no more than a blind man the route I should take; knew no more of the whereabouts of Gilbert Town and Major Ferguson's rendezvous than that both were some eighty miles to the westward.

At the outset I had thought to feel out the way in general by cautious inquiry along the road; but when I came to consider of this, the risk of betraying my ignorance to those who followed me was too great to let me turn aside to any of the wayside houses; and as for chance pa.s.sers-by, there were none--the rain kept all within doors.

So I was constrained to gallop on without pause; and throughout that comfortless afternoon and the scarce less miserable day which followed, there were no incidents to break the dull monotony of the blind race save these two; that once the clouds lifted enough to give me a glimpse of my pursuers in a far reach to the eastward; and once again I had a sight of an awkward horseman in the road before me--saw him and tried to overtake him, and could not, for all his clumsy riding.

Now I was curious about this lone horseman ahead for more reasons than one, but chiefly because my glimpse of him seemed to show me the back of a man whom I made sure I had left safe behind in the British guard-house in Charlotte, to wit: the scoundrelly little pettifogger.

At first I scoffed at the idea. Saying he were free to leave Charlotte, how should he be riding post on my haphazard road to the westward? 'Twas against all reason, and yet the t.i.ttuping figure of which I had but a rain-veiled glimpse named itself Owen Pengarvin in spite of all the reasons I could bring to bear.

'Twas close on eventide of the second day, the early evening gloaming of a chill autumnal rain-day, and I had been since morning dubiously lost in the somber trackless forest, when an elfish cry rose, as it would seem, from beneath the very hoofs of my horse.

"G.o.d save the king!"

The bay shied suddenly, standing with nostrils a-quiver; and I had to look closely to make out the little brown dot of humanity clad in russet homespun crouching in the path, its childish eyes wide with fear and its lips parted to shrill again: "G.o.d save the king!"

I threw a stiff leg over the cantle and swung down to go on one knee to my stout challenger. I can never make you understand, my dears, how the sight of this helpless waif appearing thus unaccountably in the heart of the great forest mellowed and softened me. 'Twas a little maid, not above three or four years old, and with a face that Master Raphael might have taken as a pattern for one of his seraphs.

"What know you of the king, little one?" I asked.

"Gran'dad told me," she lisped. "If I was to see a soldier-man I must say, quick, 'G.o.d save the king,' or 'haps he'd eat me. Is--is you hungry, Mister Soldier-man?"

"Truly I am that, sweetheart; but I don't eat little maids. Where is your grandfather?"

"Ain't got any gran'favver; I said 'gran'_dad_.'"

"Well, your gran'dad, then; can you take me to him?"

"I don't know. 'Haps you'd eat _him_."

"No fear of that, my dear. Do I look as if I ate people?"

She gave me a long scrutiny out of the innocent eyes and then put up two little brown hands to be taken. "I tired" she said; and my sore heart went warm within me when I took her in my arms and cuddled her. After a long-drawn sigh of contentment, she said: "My name Polly; what's yours?"

"You may call me Jack, if you please--Captain Jack, if that comes the easier. And now will you let me take you to your gran'dad?"

She nodded, and I spoke to the bay and mounted, still holding her closely in my arms.

"Tell me quickly which way to go, Polly," I said; for besides being, as I would fear, far out of the way to Gilbert Town, the last hilltop to the rear had given me another sight of my shadowing pursuers riding hard as if they meant to overtake me.

The little maid sat up straight on the saddle horn and looked about her as if to get her bearings.

"That way," she said, pointing short to the right; and I wheeled the horse into a blind path that wound in and out among the trees for a long half mile, to end at a little clearing on the banks of a small stream.

In the midst of the clearing was a rude log cabin; and in the open doorway stood a man bent and aged, a patriarchal figure with white hair falling to his shoulders and a snowy beard such as Aaron might have worn. At sight of me the old watcher disappeared within the house, but a moment later he was out again, fingering the lock of an ancient Queen's-arm.

I drew rein quickly, and the little maid sat up and saw the musket.

"Don't shoot, gran'dad!" she cried. "He's Cappy Jack, and he doesn't eat folkses."

At this the old man came to meet us, though still with the clumsy musket held at the ready.

"These be parlous times, sir," he said, half in apology, I thought. And then: "You have made friends with my little maid, and I owe you somewhat for bringing her safe home."

"Nay," said I; "the debt is mine, inasmuch as I have the little one for my friend. 'Tis long since I have held a trusting child in my arms, I do a.s.sure you, sir."

He bowed as grandly as any courtier. "I hope her trust is not misplaced, sir; though for the matter of that, we have little enough now to take or leave."

"You have given it all to the king?" said I, feeling my way as I had need to.

His eyes flashed and he drew himself up proudly.

"The king has taken all, sir, as you see," this with a wave of the hand to point me to the forlorn homestead. "There is naught left me save this poor hut and my little maid."

"'Taken,' you say? Then you are not of the king's side?"

He came a step nearer and faced me boldly. "Listen, sir: two of my sons were left on the b.l.o.o.d.y field of Camden, and the butcher Banastre Tarleton slew the other two at Fishing Creek. A month since a band of roving savages, armed with King George's muskets, mind you, sir, came down upon us at Northby, and this little maid's mother--"

He stopped and choked; and the child looked up into my face with her blue eyes full of nameless terror. "Oh, I want my mammy!" she said.

"Won't you find her for me, Cappy Jack?"

I slipped from the saddle, still clasping the little one tightly in my arms.

"Enough, sir," I said, when I could trust myself to speak. "This same King George's minions have made me a homeless outcast, too. I live but to give some counter stroke, if I may."

"Ha!" said the old man, starting back; "then you are for our side? But your uniform--"

"Is that of an Austrian officer, my good sir, which I should right gladly exchange for the buff and blue, but that I can serve the cause better in this."

He dropped the Queen's-arm, took the child from me and bade me welcome to his cabin and all it held. But I was not minded to make him a sharer in my private peril.

"No," said I. "Tell me how I may find Gilbert Town and Major Ferguson's rendezvous, and I will ride whilst I can see the way."

He looked at me narrowly. "Ferguson left Gilbert Town some days since.

If 'tis the place you seek, you are gone far out of your way; if 'tis the man--"