The Young Continentals at Bunker Hill Part 7

CHAPTER V

HOW JASON COLLYER CAME TO THE "PLOW AND HARROW"

Once he had gotten the candle-light well out of his eyes, Ezra found that the darkness was not quite as thick as he had supposed.

"All of which suits my purpose very well," he told himself, well pleased.

He had no idea of proceeding any great distance in the direction in which he was heading. He had promised to meet Ben Cooper at the place where the church tower reared itself above the tree-tops toward Chelmsford; and this he determined to do.

"If I fail to keep my promise, Ben will begin to imagine all sorts of things," mused Ezra. "And, also, I'll need to talk over this matter with him before I do anything."

He rode along until his horse's hoofs sounded hollowly upon the timbers of the bridge.

"The sound will no doubt reach the house," he muttered, "and perhaps they will be listening for it."

In the middle of the bridge he wheeled his steed and slowly recrossed; then dismounting he led the animal into the woods and struck out upon a course parallel with the road. The way was much darker here because of the overhang of the trees; he was compelled to proceed with the utmost care in order to avoid accidents.

"I said you had eyes like an owl, old fellow," said he to the bay. "Now prove that I did not overpraise you; for a misstep means, perhaps, a broken leg."

And the horse, as though in answer, stepped gingerly along, his mane brushing Ezra's shoulder, and his nose pointed toward the ground. In a short time they arrived opposite the house of Abdallah; the mastiffs must either have got scent of, or heard them. At any rate they broke into a tremendous barking.

Now Ezra spoke to the bay and it stopped. His hand sought the long pistol in the holster and his eyes were fixed upon the dark, silent house across the road.

Then the door opened and a flare of light shot out upon the neglected garden. Abdallah appeared in the doorway, and behind him was Jason Collyer with a shaded candle in his hand.

The Oriental spoke sharply to the clamoring brutes and they instantly subsided. Some words pa.s.sed between the two men, and then both went in; and the door was closed and all was darkness and stillness once more.

Ezra waited a while; then, as the dogs appeared to be silenced for good, he spoke to the horse and once more started on. Almost immediately the dogs recommenced their barking and once more the boy brought the bay to a halt. With his hand upon the pistol he watched the house, expecting the door to open. But this time it did not, and the mastiffs made the night echo with their uproar.

"It would seem that they are now tied up," said Ezra after a little. "It is a lucky thing for me that Abdallah was so minded. Otherwise I would have had them at my throat before this."

Again he spoke to the horse and they proceeded upon their way through the trees. The mastiffs grew all but frantic in their ravings; but still no sign came from the house.

"I suppose the owners of such beasts grow accustomed to their noise in time," thought the lad. "And in that I am fortunate, too; for if Abdallah and his friends had taken it into their heads to make a search, they must have surely found me."

About a hundred yards beyond the house he ventured into the road. As this was soft and he walked the horse, no sound of hoofs was heard. It was a good half mile farther on that he got into the saddle, and gathered up the reins with a breath of satisfaction.

"Now for the hamlet with the church tower," he said, and he touched the bay with the spur and went loping down the dark wagonway.

There were stars in the sky, but no moon; a faint sheen filtered through to the earth, and as the road was of a light-colored soil, the boy could trace it faintly as it stretched on ahead of him. From among the trees that still continued to line the way, there came the mysterious shadows and sounds of the night; but Ezra Prentiss was not a lad to give such things much heed, but went plodding steadily on, his eyes bent keenly ahead, his whole attention given to making his destination in as short a time as possible.

A number of times he fancied that he caught dull, indefinite sounds in his rear; indeed, he once drew in his horse and listened. But as nothing more followed, he credited the noises to the whispering voice of the night, and so rode on.

At length he came to a place where the timber had been cleared away; fences were erected and the ground broken by the plow. Off to the left was a small group of houses, and above them, strongly marked against the background of stars, was the church tower that he had pointed out to Ben.

"Plowed ground is slow traveling," he said to himself as he slipped from the saddle, "but as I don't know the roads hereabouts, it's the best I can do."

But as luck would have it, he found a place in the fence where the rails could be slipped.

"A gate," said the boy, well pleased. "Well, that can mean only one thing; there's a path hereabouts, somewhere."

He mounted once more and gave the horse its head. In a moment it had picked out the path, invisible to Ezra, and went plodding along with lowered head. This led across some half dozen fields; at each fence Ezra was forced to get down and lower the bars. At length he found himself in the midst of what seemed a level green. There were scattered houses all about, their windows cheerfully lighted; the doors of some of them stood open, for the night was not unpleasant.

"And there is my old acquaintance, the church," said Ezra, as he noted a large lantern swinging over a doorway. "And judging from the people pa.s.sing in, there is a service going forward."

He led his horse across the green and finally encountered a man bearing a lantern.

"I ask your pardon, sir," said the boy, "but is there any place of public entertainment in this village?"

"There is," replied the man with the light. "Directly before you-where you see the door standing open-is the 'Plow and Harrow.'"

"I thank you," said Ezra.

He made his way to the place indicated. It was a two-storied, clean-looking place with a sanded floor, polished oaken tables and a stout, white-ap.r.o.ned landlord.

A thin man, with a straw in his mouth, took the horse, and Ezra entered the inn. At once his eye fell upon Ben Cooper, seated at a table, with a rasher of bacon and a dish of eggs before him.

"h.e.l.lo," said Ben, pausing in his attack on the provisions. "You've got here at last, have you? I'd almost given up hope of you for the night, and so ordered my supper."

"And very good it looks," said Ezra, regarding hungrily the bacon, the eggs, the huge white loaf and the great square of golden b.u.t.ter.

The stout landlord approached, wiping his hands upon his ap.r.o.n. He smiled in a pleased fashion at Ezra's words.

"Can I bring you some, young gentleman?" asked he, good-humoredly. "The bacon is most excellent. It has just the faintest tang of the smoke in it, and that adds vastly to its flavor. The eggs are fresh laid; the bread is our own baking, and the b.u.t.ter of this countryside is the best in all the colony, perhaps."

"How could I say no, after that?" laughed Ezra. "As you put it, it is really fascinating. But first I'll have some water, a towel and soap."

In a little while, freshened up with these latter articles, he was seated opposite Ben, with the wholesome food before him and doing it the justice that its excellent qualities deserved.

"I don't know how you found it," said Ben, as their meal proceeded, "but the people along the road I took are heart and soul with the colony.

Almost everywhere, I heard of men settling their affairs that they might be off to the army."

"That's good news," said Ezra. "Settling their affairs, eh? Very likely, then, what I heard General Ward say about a week ago is pretty close to the truth. Speaking of the many desertions, he said that very likely they were caused by the men having been called away from home at a moment's notice to repulse the Lexington column. No one had time to make preparations; some left their families without even a good-bye, others were known to have mounted their plow horses, leaving the plows in the field."

"The circulars, which I read and distributed, seemed to touch the right spot," said Ben Cooper. "The people seemed to realize that if they let the army under Gage get the better of them now, their liberties would be gone forever. All are patriots in this section."

Ezra made no answer to this, but went on with his supper. There was an expression upon his face, however, that caught Ben's attention; the latter gazed curiously at his friend for a moment and then asked:

"What is it? Come now, don't deny that you've got news of some sort.

When you take on that look, I'm sure that something has happened."

Ezra smiled.

"This time," said he, "you are right. Something has happened." He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. "You say that all in this section are patriots. But I have found a nest of British spies right in the heart of it."

Ben stared at him.