The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter Part 36

But of the scores of promiscuous conflicts and personal encounters which marked the _finale_ of this memorable triumph and made so conspicuous the prowess of the heroic men by whom it was achieved, it were in vain for us, within our limits, to attempt a description.

There was one of these encounters, however, which the approaching development of our story requires to be more particularly noted. And, for this purpose, we will now change the scene to a wild glen, far within the depths of the forest, where, hedged in by an impa.s.sable mora.s.s in front, and steep ledges of rocks on either side, a gang of a half dozen of the fugitive tories, headed by an officer in British uniform, had turned round with the desperate ferocity of wild beasts, to give battle to the indefatigable pursuers, who had followed them from the battle-field with a vigilance and speed from which there was no escape, and with such demonstrations of marksmanship as had already told fatally on nearly half their numbers on the way. But those pursuers, as wary as they were brave and untiring, with the double object of concealing the inequality of their numbers, which were but four, and securing the advantages that a choice of positions in all sylvan contests especially affords, had instantly fallen back to a line of hastily-selected coverts, stretching across the gorge, and had now become wholly invisible to their advancing foes, who soon paused in turn, and, shielding themselves behind the bodies of trees stood eagerly peering out to catch sight of the objects of their aim.

Suddenly the sharp report of a rifle burst from a bush-covered cleft in the rocks nearly abreast of one of the exposed flanks of the tories; and the tallest of their number, with a wild start, and half-uttered oath, floundered into the bushes and fell. The next moment, our old acquaintance, Bart Burt, who, having conveyed the ladies to their destination, had sped back to the battle-field in time to partic.i.p.ate in the last part of the final action, was seen stealthily creeping round the point of the ledge, from which the fatal shot had issued, and approaching the leader of the concealed a.s.sailants, who, as the reader may have already antic.i.p.ated, was no other than Captain Woodburn.

"Bart," said the latter, "you have executed my order as no other man could. But whom have you slain? Not Peters?"

"No--couldn't get him in range; but did as well, though--may be better--fixed out the only one whose aim I was 'fraid of--the big, fierce-looking whelp that shot father Herriot, in our last sally in the field; the same that made that bullet-hole in your coat on the way here; and the same, too, who would have finished me, likely, but for the glancing of his bullet on a bush before me. But I have settled all the grudges at a blow, now."

"You have done bravely; but did you discover who they are--any of them besides the leader, Peters?"

"Yes, two of 'em, who are, as Dunning and Piper surmised, Dave Redding and Tiger Fitch, that beauty of a constable, who bothered us so in old times, at Guilford. He's now some kind of an officer among 'em, guess; and, dead or alive, I'm bound to have him; though, if you've any particular plan, captain, I'll follow it, instead of going round to 'tother ledge for another pick of the flock."

"I have one; and that is, to draw their fire, or most of it, and then rush upon them. You may creep on, then, to Dunning and Piper, and, with them, contrive and execute some plan to effect that object, and I will stand here ready to order, and lead the charge, at the favoring moment."

Bart now, with the noiseless tread of a cat, rapidly glided away into the bushes and disappeared on his errand. In a few minutes, the cracking of sticks, as if under the pressure of cautiously moving feet, was heard in a thicket of bushes within full range of the guns of the tories, who, now safely ensconced behind the new coverts, to which, in alarm at Bart's fatal shot, they had betaken themselves, instantly turned their attention in that direction, and, levelling their pieces, keenly watched for the expected exposure of the persons of some of their opponents. Soon the dim outlines of two or three apparently human forms could be traced in the thicket, rising up one after another, with the quick hesitating motions of men intent on a stealthy _reconnaissance_ of the objects before them. And, the next moment, every tory, but one, sent the contents of his gun at these supposed forms of the lurking besiegers. But instead of beholding, as they had antic.i.p.ated, the riddled bodies of the dreaded foe dropping to the earth, they soon discovered, to their astonishment and dismay, that the empty coats and caps, which the outwitting Rangers had raised on their ramrods over their prostrate persons, were the only sufferers.

"Der--der--der--ditter ready!" shouted Dunning, in a voice which at last went off like the terminating clap of a rattling thunder peal, as he and his two a.s.sociates leaped, coatless, from the ground, to be prepared for the instant execution of the expected order.

"On, then, and suffer not a wretch of them to escape you alive!"

exclaimed their impatient leader in reply, dashing forward himself, and leading in the headlong onset which they all now made on the foe.

Taken by complete surprise by this rapid and unexpected movement of the a.s.sailants, now bursting upon them with c.o.c.ked and levelled rifles, the dismayed tories, at first, made no attempts at escape or resistance; while part of then threw down their half-loaded guns, and stepped out from their coverts.

"Surrender at discretion, or take the consequence!" sternly cried Woodburn, pausing within twenty yards of the tory leader.

"We are in your power, sir, I suppose," replied Peters evasively, and in a tone of affected submission, as, avoiding the burning gaze of the other, he threw a significant glance to the tory who had reserved his charge at the fruitless fire just made by the rest of his party.

In an instant, the gun of the latter, who still stood behind a tree shielding him, as he supposed, from the other Rangers, was levelled at Woodburn, whose attention was too intently fixed on his chief foe to notice the movement. But before the finger of the a.s.sa.s.sin was permitted to tighten on the trigger, a bullet from the unerring rifle of the watchful Dunning had pierced his brain, and his gun, as he fell over backwards, exploded harmlessly into the air. Three of the tories, however, taking advantage of the momentary confusion occasioned by the noise and smoke of the guns, made a desperate spring for the surrounding thickets and succeeded in breaking through the line of their a.s.sailants, three of whom instantly gave chase, leaving Woodburn to cope alone with the rival foe, whom he had vainly sought through the day to confront in battle. Peters threw a quick, furtive glance around him; and, for an instant, seemed hesitating whether he should attempt to follow the example of the rest of his band; but another glance at the watchful and menacing eye of his opponent gleaming at him over the barrel of the deadly rifle, taught the folly of any such attempt, and, throwing down his weapons, he said,--

"I yield myself a prisoner of war, sir."

"A prisoner of war!" exclaimed Woodburn, repeating the words of the other, in a tone of bitter scorn. "After signifying your submission, and then instigating an attempt to shoot me, you hope to be received as a prisoner of war, do you? Villain!" he added, advancing and presenting the muzzle of his piece within a yard of the other's breast--"villain, your last claim to mercy is forfeited!"

"You would not slay an unarmed man, and a prisoner, would you?" said Peters, recoiling, and casting an uneasy glance at his opponent.

"Yes," replied the former, with increasing sternness, "if, like you, in defiance of all the rules of war as well as honor, he would do the same to me the first moment he had it in his power. No submission shields the life of an outlaw from any one disposed to take it. But you shall have one minute for uttering your last request, if you have any such to make."

Being now thoroughly alarmed by the words, as well as the demeanor of his incensed captor, the once haughty loyalist fell on his knees, and humbly besought the other to spare his life.

"Live, then, wretch!" said Woodburn, at length moved to both pity and contempt by the entreaties and abject manner of the former--"live then, if you choose it, to be dealt with as a traitor and a spy, by men who will award you your deserts with more coolness, doubtless, than I should have done, but with no less certainty."

"O, spare me from that," pleaded the abased supplicant, with redoubled earnestness. "Kill me on the spot, if you will; but spare me from that fate. Allow me to be delivered up as a prisoner of war, and I will consent to any thing--yield any thing you wish. I will ensure you, by my influence at the British camp, any advantage in a future exchange of prisoners you may ask; and----"

"Peace! miserable craven!" interrupted Woodburn. "I could promise you no exemption, if I would, from a punishment which our exasperated people will justly say you have brought upon your own head."

"And I will also," resumed Peters, encouraged by the somewhat softened tone, and slightly hesitating manner of the other--"I will also relinquish all claims, and forego all interference, in matters that may have stood in the way of your private interests and wishes."

"I will make no pledges, nor grant, nor receive any terms, at your dictation, sir," said the former, haughtily.

"I will trust to your magnanimity to a fallen foe," then, rejoined Peters, rightly appreciating, for once, the character of his conqueror.

"Here, take this," he continued, drawing a carefully-preserved doc.u.ment from his pocket, and extending it towards the other--"take it, and deliver it to the one whom it most concerns. Tell her it was voluntarily relinquished, and that I will trouble her no more."

As small as was the measure of credit which Woodburn's judgment told him should be accorded to the motives prompting this unexpected course in his old enemy, it nevertheless quickly banished every vindictive feeling from his generous bosom; and after a momentary hesitation, he took the proffered doc.u.ment, glanced at its contents, and silently deposited it among his other papers. But soon growing jealous of himself lest he should compromit the policy which his superiors might deem it just and wise, under the sanction of the stern rules of war, to enforce, he restrained himself from making any immediate reply.

And, the next moment, he was relieved from what apparent necessity there might be for so doing, by the approach of the first of the returning Rangers.

"Where is your prisoner, Piper?" he asked, turning to the latter, now coming up.

"He would not be taken alive, sir; and the order was to let none escape in that condition," replied the broad-chested subaltern with a significant look.

"In order, then, that you go not home empty-handed," rejoined Woodburn, "I will give you charge of _my_ prisoner, Colonel Peters here, whom you will conduct to Bennington Meeting-House, whither the prisoners of the day were ordered, and whence you will deliver him to the officer in command as a prisoner of war--at least for the present; for any doubt that may arise about his final disposal can be settled hereafter."

"Der well, captain," exclaimed Dunning, whose tall, gaunt form, in the rear of his prisoner, the infamous David Redding, whom it had been his lot to capture, was now seen emerging from a thicket near by--"here is one, about whom we shan't be bothered with der doubts, a great while, if his captor can have his say."

"Aha!--but what _is_ your say about him, sergeant?" said Woodburn, smiling.

"Der well," replied the other, "I say, if the ditter devil don't take him from a traitor's gallows, then we may just as well have no devil."

"I shall not be the one to gainsay you in that, sergeant," responded Woodburn. "But hark! what is the uproar yonder?" he added, pointing out into the woods in a direction from whence the sound of an occasional stiff _whack!_ followed by groans, curses, and calls for protection, were now heard to issue.

On turning their eyes towards the spot, the company beheld Bart, with his rifle in one hand, and a long beechen switch in the other, driving in before him the whilom constable, Fitch, who was chafing, like a chained bear, under the lash which his catechizing captor was administering every few yards on the way.

"Why are you so rough with him, Bart?" expostulated Woodburn, as they came up.

"Well, captain, I have a reasonable wherefore for it--may be,"

answered the former, gravely.

"What is it?" asked the other.

"Why," replied the imperturbable Bart, "perhaps I don't remember, and perhaps I do, how a chap of about my size sat sweating near two cool hours, at the sight of an ugly-looking bunch of beech rods, that a certain constable had ordered for his back. And as 'twas no fault of his that the matter wasn't carried out at the time, and, as I always thought there was a mistake made as to the one whose back ought to take it, I felt rather bound to have the order executed now, and in a manner to set all to rights between us."

"Well, well, boys," said Woodburn, with a good-humored smile, "you must all be indulged in your notions, I suppose, at such a glorious hour as this. But you may now be moving on with your prisoners to the field, and thence by the road to Bennington. Business calls me there by a nearer route, and at a quicker pace. You shall find good cheer awaiting your arrival."

So saying, he struck off rapidly from the rest, and soon disappeared in the forest.

CHAPTER XV.

"Sing it where forests wave,-- From mountain to the sea, And o'er each hero's grave,-- Sing, sing, the land is free."

It was evening; and all that met the eye was joy and animation in the little village of Bennington, in which, not only the great body of the opposing armies, either as conquerors or prisoners, but the best portion of the patriotism, wisdom, and beauty of young Vermont, were now congregated. There her statesmen and sages--many of whom had mingled in the strife of the day--were gathered to rejoice over a result which their own heads, and hearts, and hands, through the anxious days and nights of the preceding month, had been unceasingly engaged in securing for their country and their homes. There, too, the old men and striplings, drawn from all the neighboring settlements by the ominous sounds which had reached them from the distant battlefield, and there the maids and matrons, whose solicitude for the near and dear ones, supposed to be engaged in the conflict, would not permit them to stay behind, were all found mingling with the victors, and partic.i.p.ating in their exultations. Bright lights were streaming from every window, or dancing in every direction in the streets; while the smiling faces and animated voices, everywhere seen and heard among the commingling throng, seemed to tell only of a scene of universal joy and triumph. But as joyous and lively as was the scene, in its predominating features, it was yet not without its painful contrasts.

The broken sob, or the low wail of sorrow, was heard rising sadly on the night air, in every interval that occurred in the more boisterous but irrepressible manifestations which characterized the hour. And, even in the same dwellings, these two contrasted phases in war's exciting but melancholy picture were not unfrequently presented; for, while in one room might be heard the notes of joy and exultation, in another might be distinguished the stifled groan of some wounded soldier, or the lamentations of the bereaved over the body of a slain relative.

Among the most noted of the cla.s.s last mentioned was the late residence of Esquire Haviland, situated in the outskirts of the village, and recently occupied as the quarters of the officers of the Rangers, on the invitation of the patriotic but singular and mysterious man, who, at its sale by the commissioners of confiscation, had purchased the establishment, among several others of a valuable description thus sold in this section of the country. To this residence, the scene of a former portion of our story, we will now once more, and for the last time, repair.

While in one part of the building the officers just named, with other distinguished persons, were engaged in discussing the incidents of the day, in another and more retired apartment, on a pillowed couch, lay the wounded Father Herriot, who, having been stricken down in the last moments of the battle, as before intimated, had been borne hither to complete the willing sacrifice he had made of his life to the cause of his country. On a small table, within his reach, lay several doc.u.ments, which were fresh from the hand of that ready writer, the accomplished secretary of the Council of Safety, who had just left the apartment. And around his bedside stood those in whom all his private interests and sympathies had been for some time secretly concentrated, though to two of them personally unknown till a few hours before, when he had beer brought in wounded and committed to their care. Those persons were Henry Woodburn, Bart Burt, Sabrey Haviland, and Vine Howard, who, ignorant of his particular wishes or intentions, and wondering why the presence of all of them should be desired at the same time, had been summoned to his bedside to hear his last communication and receive his blessing.