Then Marched the Brave Part 2

"That I have!" laughed Andy. "I tell you now because you are upon your country's service. I trust you, and I thought perhaps it might help sometime." The two moved forward for a moment in silence, then Andy laughed in a half-confused way.

"A boy gets lonely at times," he said; "he must do something to while away the--the years. I have practiced and made believe until I am a pretty good Indian. I make believe that I am guiding the great Washington. They do say he ever remembers a favor. I should love to serve him. Had I been like other boys--" the voice broke--"I would have been as near him as possible by this time!"

The hand of the stranger was upon the youth's shoulder. Andy turned in alarm.

"You have a secret which may save your country much!" breathed the deep voice; "guard it with your life. But if one comes from Washington seeking your aid, do whatever he asks, fearlessly."

"How would I know such an one?" gasped Andy.

"That will I tell you later." Again the forward tramp.

"And you have pa.s.sed, unnoticed, the British line! 'Tis a joke almost beyond belief!" chuckled the stranger. "I should like to see my Lord Howe's face were he to hear this."

"Oh! be silent, sir!" cautioned the guide, "we come to an open s.p.a.ce."

Once again beneath the heavy boughs, the boy said:

"I pa.s.sed the line but yesterday. And I heard that which has troubled me, sorely, yet I could do nothing. But--" here Andy paused and turned sharply--"bend down. Should you know Washington were you to see him?"

"Aye, lad." The two heads were pressed close.

"Would you bear a message, and try to find him?"

"Aye."

"They are planning an attack. I could not hear when or where, for the men moved past. As they came back, and pa.s.sed where I was hidden, I heard them say that they who are near Washington had best be on watch, poison in the food made no such noise as a gun--but it would serve!"

"You heard that?" almost moaned the listener. "My G.o.d! could they plan such a cowardly thing?"

"Aye, sir. I am thinking they can. I would warn the General if I could, but you may be luckier. The men said Lord Howe desired the death of every rebel."

"May heaven forgive him!" The words fell sadly from the strong lips.

"And now," again Andy took the lead, "do not speak as we pa.s.s here. It is the spot where they shot our pastor's boy, only two days ago. I fear the place. A few rods beyond, we will again strike the thicket, and be under cover until we reach the river."

The solemn quiet that precedes a hot summer dawn surrounded the man and boy. The red band broadened in the east. The birds, fearing neither friend nor foe, began to challenge the stillness with their glad notes, and so guide and follower pa.s.sed the gruesome place where young Sam White gave up his untried life a few short days ago. The thicket gained, the two paused for breath.

"We must not talk in the boat, sir." They had reached the moored boat now. "Pray tell me how I am to know our General's messenger."

"By this." The stranger detached a charm from a hidden chain and held it in his palm so that the clearer light fell upon it. "I command you to learn its peculiarities well. There must be no blunder."

It was very quaint. Andy's keen eye took in every detail.

"I shall know it," he sighed. And the stranger smiled and replaced it.

"And you, sir?" he faltered, for the hour of parting came with a strange sadness; "may I not know your name? You have made me so proud and happy because you accepted my poor service."

"George Washington, and your true friend, Andy McNeal! We are both serving the same great cause. G.o.d keep us both!"

The General clasped the boy's trembling hand, and Andy looked through dim eyes into the face of his hero. The hero who for months past had been the imaginative comrade of lonely hours and dreamy play.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "ANDY WAS AT THE OARS NOW."]

"We shall meet again--comrade!" Washington was smiling and the mist pa.s.sed. "Never fear death, lad, if you are doing your duty; it comes but once. Row swiftly. Day is breaking. A messenger with a horse awaits me on the further sh.o.r.e. Head for Point of Cedars."

"Good-by, sir; I shall never fear anything again--after this, I think.

Good-by!" Andy was at the oars now. He handled them like the master that he was. The old Indian had taught well, and the apt pupil had been making ready against this day and chance.

While Andy kept Point of Cedars in view, he saw, also, the n.o.ble figure in the stern. The keen eyes kept smiling in kindly fashion, while the firm lips kept their accustomed silence. To Andy, the future was as rosy as the dawn, and he wondered that he had ever been depressed and afraid.

"Death comes but once!" kept ringing in his thoughts; "it shall find me doing my duty. G.o.d and Washington forever!" The song of the times had found a resting-place in Andy McNeal's heart at last.

Point of Cedars was safely reached. The general stepped upon the pebbly beach. Almost at once, from among the bushes, appeared a young man in ragged Continental uniform, leading a large, white horse.

Without a word Washington mounted, nodded his thanks to the messenger, and a final farewell to Andy, then he, followed by his newer guide, faded from sight among the forest-trees. Standing bareheaded and alone upon the sh.o.r.e, Andy watched until the last sound of the hoof-beats died away, then, with a sigh of hope and memory mingled, he retraced his way.

Janie McNeal greeted her son at the door-way. "Andy!" she cried, "our guest is gone!" She quite forgot that Andy, presumably, knew nothing of the guest. "He desired a lad to row him across the river. I was going to neighbor Jones's at early dawn to summon James. I should have gone last night, but I was sore tired. When I arose this morning, the stranger was gone. G.o.d forgive me!

"The poor gentleman must have thought me a heedless body. I trust he will not think me in league with the Britishers; there is much of that sort of thing going on." Janie shook her head dolefully, not heeding Andy's smile.

"How do we know," she went on, "but that the gentleman was on the great Washington's business? He was an overgrand body himself, and had excellent manners."

"Mother!" the old hesitating tone crept back unconsciously into Andy's voice as he faced his mother; "mother, I rowed the stranger across the river, he is--safely landed. It--was--it--was--Washington himself!"

"Andy!" Janie flung up her hands, and nearly fell from the step; "think, lad, of your words. You look and talk clean daft."

"It--was--Washington!" The boy drew the words out with a delicious memory.

"And--you--rowed--him--across! You--my--poor--lame lad! G.o.d have mercy upon me, and forgive me for my doubts!"

"I can help a little, mother." Andy drew near the quivering figure. "I know, mother, and I do not wonder, but there is a place for every one in these days, and I'm going to be ready."

Janie drew herself up, and put a trembling hand on the young shoulder.

"Son!" she said, with a sudden but intense pride, "son, get ready, we go to Sam White's burying, you and I. G.o.d be praised! blind as I was, He has opened my eyes to see my son at last!" This was a great deal for Janie McNeal to say, but it did its work.

CHAPTER III

THE CROWNING OF ANDY MCNEAL

Sam White's burial was a very simple affair. In that time of need and anxiety men were off upon their country's business. Few could stay to mourn. The pastor himself read the simple service in a voice of pride, broken by a father's grief. He said that G.o.d would not let the sacrifice pa.s.s unheeded. Since Sam had heard the call, and then had been so suddenly taken away, another would be raised up to do his work; another who, through Sam, might be touched more than in any other way.

Andy, standing in the little group about the open grave, at this raised his eyes, and he found Ruth's wide, tearless gaze fixed upon him. Andy smiled bravely back at her, for his heart was strong within him.

After it was over and the few neighbors gone, Andy and Ruth remained to scatter flowers upon the young hero's bed, and cover up the bareness of the place.