"Had your watch been good,
This sudden mischief never could have fallen."
--First Part Henry VI.
Had Peggy been in the lead she would have headed at once for the "Great
Raritan Road," a highway which ran down the valley of the river directly
to the town of New Brunswick, which lay but a few miles west of Amboy.
Harriet, on the contrary, turned toward Bound Brook, and entered the
dense wood which stood between that village and the hills.
"This is not the way to Amboy, Harriet," remonstrated Peggy.
"No," answered her cousin briefly. Then, after a moment: "'Tis the only
way to get through the lines without the countersign. We must not talk."
"Hasn't thee the countersign?" asked Peggy, dismayed.
"No; don't talk, Peggy."
And Peggy, wondering much how with two horses they could pass the
pickets unchallenged, relapsed into silence. But the lack of the
password did not seem to daunt Harriet. She pushed ahead as rapidly as
was consistent with rough ground, thickly growing trees and underbrush,
and the gloom of the forest. At length as they entered a shallow ravine
Harriet drew rein, and, as Peggy came up beside her, she spoke:
"Are you afraid, Peggy?"
"No," replied Peggy, "but the stillness is monstrously wearing. And 'tis
so dark, Harriet."
"Which is to our benefit," returned Harriet. "As for the quiet, once we
are clear of the lines we can chat, and so will not mind it. But come!"
Again she took the lead, and Peggy, following after, could not but
marvel at the unerring precision with which her cousin chose her way.
Not once did she falter or hesitate, though to Peggy the darkness and
gloom of the forest seemed impenetrable.
The melancholy of the forest encompassed them, infolding them like a
mantle. It so wrought upon their senses that they reached out and
touched each other frequently, seeking to find solace from its brooding
sadness. It seemed as though hours elapsed before Harriet spoke in the
merest whisper:
"I think we are without the lines, Peggy. 'Tis about time, and now we
can seek the turnpike."
She had scarcely finished speaking when out of the darkness came the
peremptory command:
"Halt! Who goes there?"
"Friends," answered Harriet, as the two obediently brought their horses
to a standstill.
In the darkness the shadowy form of the sentinel was but dimly visible,
but a feeble ray of the pale moonlight caught the gleam of his musket,
and Peggy saw with a thrill of fear that it was pointed directly toward
Harriet.
"Advance, and give the countersign," came the order.
How it came about Peggy could not tell, but as he gave the command,
Fleetwood reared suddenly upon his hind feet, and, pawing the air with
his forelegs and snorting viciously, advanced toward the guard
threateningly. An ominous click of the firelock sounded. Wild with
terror at the sight, and fearful of what might happen, Peggy cried
shrilly:
"Look sharp!"
"Why didn't you say so before?" growled the sentry lowering his gun.
"What's the matter with that horse?"
"I think he must have stepped among some thorn bushes," replied Harriet
sweetly. "I will soon quiet him, friend. The underbrush is thick
hereabouts."
"Too thick to be straying around in at night," he answered with some
roughness. "That horse is enough to scare the British. What are you
doing in the woods? You are bound to lose your way."
"We have done that already," she told him with apparent frankness. She
had succeeded by this time in quieting Fleetwood, who now resumed his
normal position. By the merest chance they had stumbled upon the
password, and she purposed making the most of it. "You see we were at a
party in the camp, and coming back my cousin and I thought to make a
short cut through the woods so as to get home quickly. We ought to have
been there long ago, but 'twas a pretty little frisk, and we just
couldn't make up our minds to leave. You know how it is."
"Yes," he rejoined laughing good naturedly. "I know how 'tis. I've gals
of my own. Well, you just get over to that road as fast as you can. 'Tis
a half mile straight to your right. And say! if another sentinel asks
for the countersign speak right up. You're liable to get a ball if you
don't."
"Thank you," she said. "We will remember. Come, my cousin."
"You blessed Peggy!" she exclaimed as they passed beyond the hearing of
the guard. "How did you chance upon that watchword?"
"I don't know," answered Peggy, who had not yet recovered her
equanimity. "I meant to say, 'Look out!' I don't know how I came to say
sharp. But what was the matter with Fleetwood? Was he among thorns?"
"Dear me, no! 'Tis a trick that I taught him. You do not know all his
accomplishments. 'Twas well for that sentinel that he let us through.
Wasn't it, old fellow?" And her laugh as she patted the animal was not a
pleasant one to hear.
Peggy shuddered. She would not like Star to be taught such tricks, she
thought, giving the little mare a loving caress. She was beginning to
doubt the wisdom of coming with Harriet. The girl appeared to know her
way so well, to be so able to care for herself that there seemed no need
for Peggy to be along. But let her see her safely to a place where she
could reach her own people, and then Peggy resolved, with a quick
tightening of the lips, nothing should ever induce her to put herself
into such a plight again.
By this time the moon had gone down, and while the sky was not clouded
there was a dim haze that rendered the light of the stars ineffectual in
dispelling the darkness. On they rode. The time seemed interminable to
Peggy; the blackness of the night unbearable. The sudden snapping of a
dried twig under Star's feet caused her to start violently.
"Harriet," she cried, "naught is to be gained by keeping to the woods.
The lines are passed. Let us get to the highway. We must make better
progress if I am to get back before the reveille."
"That you will never do, Peggy," replied Harriet pointing to the sky.
"'Tis almost time for it now."
Peggy looked up in dismay. The gray twilight that precedes the dawn was
stealing over the darkness. The soldier's day began when the sentry
could see a thousand yards about him. Another hour would bring about
just that condition. It was clearly impossible for her to return before
the sounding of the reveille.
"Does thee know where we are?" she asked. "And where is the road?"
"There is just a narrow strip of the woods betwixt us and the turnpike,
Peggy," Harriet assured her. "It hath been so since we left the guard.
We will get to it at once if it please you. As for where we are, we
should be getting to Perth Amboy soon."
"But why hath it taken so long?" queried Peggy.
"Because the brigades of Baron Steuben and General Wayne lay south of
the Raritan, and we had to go around them. I did not tell you, Peggy,
that 'twould take so long because I feared that you would not come. It
doth not matter, doth it, what way I took to safety?"
"No," answered Peggy, touched by this allusion to her cousin's peril.
"It would have been fearful for thee to have come through the darkness
alone, but oh, Harriet! I do wish thee had told me. Then I would have
left a letter for mother, anyway. She will be so uneasy."
"Never mind!" consoled Harriet. "And then you may never see me again.
Shall you care, Peggy?"
"Yes," answered Peggy soberly. "I will, but----" She paused and drew rein
abruptly. "There are forms flitting about in the wood," she whispered.
"Does thee think they mean us harm?"
Harriet made no reply, but gazed intently into the forest. In the
indistinct light the figures of mounted men could be seen moving like
shadows among the trees. That they were gradually approaching the
maidens was evident. The girl watched them for a few seconds, and then
leaning forward gave a low, birdlike call. It was answered in kind on
the instant, and a half dozen horsemen dashed from the wood into the
narrow highway.
"Now am I safe," cried Harriet joyfully, reaching out her hand to the
foremost of the men who gathered about them. "Captain Greyling, your
arrival is timely."
"We have waited many nights for you, Mistress Owen," said that officer.
"We began to think that you might in very truth have become one of the
rebels. You are most welcome."
"Thank you," she cried gaily. "You are not more pleased to see me than I
am to be here. In truth, had I not succeeded in coming, I should not
have had another opportunity. 'Twas becoming very uncomfortable in camp.
I have barely escaped I know not what fate. But more of that anon.
Peggy, let me present Captain Greyling of De Lancy's Loyal Legion. My
cousin, Mistress Peggy Owen, Captain Greyling."
De Lancy's Loyal Legion! Peggy's cheek blanched at the name. This was a
body of Tory cavalry, half freebooters and half in the regular service.
Between New York and Philadelphia and the country surrounding both
places the name stood for all that was terrible and malignant in human
nature. So stricken with terror was she that she could not return the
officer's salutation.
"Where lies the boat?" asked Harriet.
"Close to the bank of the river. The trees hide it. 'Tis but a shallop
which will take us to the sloop which is in the bay outside Amboy. The
men will bring the horses by ferry."
"Very well," answered Harriet, preparing to dismount. "We are at the end
of our long ride, Peggy. Are you not glad?"
"I am for thee," said Peggy, speaking quietly but filled with a vague
alarm. "As for me, I will bid thee farewell, and return to the camp."
She wheeled as she spoke, but instantly the mare's bridle was seized,
and she was brought to a standstill.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried Peggy, her eyes flashing. "Thee is
safe, Harriet. Call off thy friends. Thee knows that I must return."
"Dost think that I will part with you so soon, my cousin?" laughed
Harriet mockingly. "Nay, nay; I have promised to bring you to New York.
Best go peaceably, Peggy; for go you must."
"Never!" exclaimed Peggy, striking Star a sharp blow. The little mare
reared, plunged, pranced and wheeled in the effort to rid herself of the
hold on her bridle, but vainly. Peggy uttered a piercing shriek as she
was torn from the saddle, and half dragged, half carried through the
trees down the bank to the boat which was drawn up close to the shore.
Two of the men followed after the captain and Harriet. The latter seated
herself by Peggy's side, and placed her arm about her.
"'Twould have been better to come quietly," she said. "I meant you
should go back with me all the while. I could not bear to lose you,
Peggy. I thought----"
But Peggy, her spirit up in arms, turned such a look of scorn upon her
cousin that Harriet paused in her speech abruptly.
"Speak not to me of affection, Harriet Owen," she cried. "Thou art
incapable of feeling it. Is there no truth to be found in any of thy
family? Are ye all treacherous and dishonorable? Would that thou wert no
kin of mine! Would that I had never seen thee, nor any of thy----"
Unable to continue, she burst into a passion of tears.