IN CAMPAIGN
Sally's soft tread was heard only by a great dog who rushed out as she
crept toward the hay sheds at the Hinds farmlands.
She easily made friends with the dog, who trotted quietly away after
being patted and quieted.
It was plain that some of the house servants were already astir, but
Sally kept out of sight as best she could.
One thing she did that pleased her greatly.
She got into the barn and filled the front of the coat with hay. This
she carried to Hotspur, who enjoyed the crisp breakfast greatly.
"I wish I could bring you water, dear," she said, "but how am I to get
my own breakfast?"
For with all her shrewdness, the maiden had given not one thought to
food when she started out, and a healthy maid of fourteen could not long
be unmindful of hunger after a four hours' ride.
In a few moments however, she was to be glad of having made friends with
the great dog. For a colored boy put a pan with meat bones, cold
biscuit, and a basin of water by the shed, for the dog's breakfast.
As the boy slouched away, up crept Sally, and snatched two of the
biscuit, and oh, what luck! a good doughnut, long and twisted, was close
against the biscuit. She snatched that too.
"Surely I may have part of the dog's food without stealing," she said.
Then she cast about in her mind how next to proceed. Time was precious.
Now it may well be supposed that during her long ride so bright a maid
as Sally would have tried to think of some plan that might help her once
she reached her journey's end. And she had not forgotten that all she
had heard and learned about the present condition of her Fairy Prince
had come to her as she sat by a tree.
"Might not a tree help me again?" she asked. "Could I but make a sound,
or give a sign, it surely would help me, if only the young Prince came
near enough. I can think of no other way unless I hide about the house
and watch my chance for a quick word."
Ah, but with others around, how long might it be ere the chance would
come. And time was passing swiftly away.
A fine elm stood before the house, and Sally resolved to scramble into
it and at least take a good look around. The branches grew closely, and
fortunately came nearer the ground than was usual.
She watched some time before daring to climb, but at length she found a
place where she could seat herself, and the great boughs made a very
good screen.
Another precious hour went by; it was between five and six o'clock.
Farm-hands were at work. Sally could see them in the distance.
All at once she caught her breath in the way natural to her when
surprised or excited.
For there at the front door stood her Fairy Prince, but with how gloomy
and clouded a face! And close beside him was a strong and stalwart man.
"His guard!" whispered Sally. "Shameful, oh, shameful!"
The two strolled out and down the path. Sally nearly choked as they
paused close by the tree. In her hand she held a bit of bark, picked
with a purpose.
The older man turned his head. Down fluttered a bit of bark close to
young Lionel's feet. Down fluttered another. The young man looked up.
Sally made a swift sign.
"I wonder which way is the wind," said Lionel; "the vane is just out of
sight."
The man walked a few yards away toward a corner of the house.
"Don't look up," called Sally, in a loud whisper, "but Hotspur is here.
Down in the dell to the right. Run! he is only lightly tied. The others
will be at Pamunkey turnpike at noon."
The man was already turning back, and Sally was surprised and, ah! how
greatly disappointed to see her Fairy Prince go quietly with him to the
porch.
Did he not hear her? Did not he believe her? The days were such as to
make men crafty, quick to catch an idea, swift to use it.
Aha! as the front door, heavy and thick, was reached and both were
stepping in, Lionel gave the man a sudden push, sending him head-long
into the hall; then he slammed to the door, and rushed like mad to the
dell sloping off to the right.
In a moment the great door opened and the attendant and another man ran
out, but almost the next instant Sally, straining her ears, heard the
rush and sweep of a fleet horse that seemed to scud like the wind,
and--her Fairy Prince was free!
"There he goes! And I helped him!" gasped Sally, hugging her own young
breast and quivering in every limb.
The men looked right and left and listened, half deceived by the sound.
At last, far down the road, they saw horse and man, but going at a pace
it were mere folly to strive to overtake.
"We cannot catch him, and if we could he would defend himself now," said
the man who had guarded Lionel, in a voice of anger and concern. "Woe
the day! What will Sir Percival say?"
"His orders were that not an instant was he to be out of our sight,"
said the other man. "One or the other of us was to be on the watch."
"And he was not out of my sight," said the first man. "I only left his
side a moment before to look at the weathercock, and he stood alone just
where I left him as I turned back. We came through the doorway together,
then he pushed me fairly over and ran away. Woe the day! I shall lose
both respect and reward."
"How in the name of Great Caesar could he have gotten a message about the
horse?" asked the second man. "I have seen no one around."
"Nor have I," was the reply. "Beshrew me, but I could half believe the
Fairies or the witches have been about! It is a mystery indeed."
He added, gloomily:
"Now I must acquaint Sir Percival of what hath happened, and, by my
faith, I had rather take a ducking or show a broken limb."
It seemed to Sally that the men would never be done looking about,
peering here and there, but keeping near the house, as if bent on
finding some one who had helped Lionel's escape. It was not until the
middle of the morning that they went into the barn; then, with many a
halt, she finally let herself down from the tree, but only to hide
behind another.
Sally was thankful when at last she found herself in the road after
creeping from one cover to another. Then, with a slouching step, she
moved more rapidly away.
For a long time she kept steadily on, then, at a great field she was
passing, an ox team, loaded with marshy grass, came toward the road.
"Might I cotch a ride?" she said to the man who was guiding the oxen.
"Tired, are ye?" called the man.
"Tired I'll be afore I gets to Homeview," said Sally.
Homeview was a plantation near Williamsburg.
"Get ye up then," said the man. "I goes far as Humphrey Three Corners,
that's all."
By walking and begging many a mile's ride, and also by begging two or
three cups of milk, Sally reached Parson Kendall's near supper time, as
hungry and fagged a maiden as one would wish to see.
She managed to enter the porch and hang up the coat and hat without
being seen by any of the parson's family. Then she started for the
library, but met the parson in the hall.
"Whither away, maiden?" cried the parson, sternly.
"I would have speech with thee in the library," said Sally, rather
faintly.
"And I would have speech with _thee_!" the parson replied.
Not a word spake good Parson Kendall while Sally told her story.
Goodwife Kendall knew that Sally had returned, but so discreet a tongue
had she, that not even her sisters knew that the whereabouts of the
maiden who had appeared neither at the breakfast nor the dinner table
were unknown either to the parson or his wife.
There was silence as Maid Sally finished her strange, brave story.
Was her best friend, the kind parson, angry at what she had done? Would
he blame her sharply, or cry shame on so bold a deed?
A queer note there was in his voice when he spoke at last.
"I am proud of thee, maid, proud of thee! Thou art fit to rank with the
soldiers who would put down injustice and oppression. But why aid the
young son of Sir Percival Grandison, why he in particular, eh?"
For a moment it was Sally's turn to be silent. Then she said, with her
steadfast eyes on the parson's face:
"I have told you, sir, what floated to my ears. It was the first case
wherein I bethought me that my own courage might serve my country in a
way, and serve one of her sons, too."
Parson Kendall was content with the reply.
"We worried over thee this morn," he said, "and have made quiet
inquiries to-day, but all without letting any one know thou hadst really
disappeared. Do not so try us again."
"I will not," said Maid Sally.
"Now get for thyself food and drink," said the parson. "I have sharp
summons to attend upon Mistress Cory Ann Brace, who lieth ill at her
house. I was about to set forth to visit her when thou appearedst. And
after thy repast, thou hadst best go to thy bed at once. I will speak
with Goodwife Kendall a moment concerning thy story. Long sleep wilt
thou need after thy night's campaign."
Sally smiled at the parson's speech. Full well she knew that while an
army kept the field it was in "campaign."
"Did I keep the field last night, sir?" she inquired.
"Verily I think thou hadst the field all to thyself, from set out to
finish," smiled the parson. "I am proud of thee! But let us know the
next time when thou goest on rescue."
"I will, sir," said Maid Sally.