It was still dark when I awoke; the fire had become a pyramid of
coals. By the dull glow I saw two figures moving; one of them
presently crossed the dim, crimson circle and sat down beside me,
fists clasped under his massive chin, rifle balanced on his knees.
"I am awake," I whispered. "Is there any trouble?"
Without moving a muscle of his huge frame, the forest runner said:
"Don't come into the fire-ring. There's a man been prowling yonder,
a-sniffing our fire, for the last four hours."
I drew myself farther into the darkness, looking about me, shivering
and rubbing my stiffened limbs.
"How do you feel?" he asked, without turning his head.
I told him I felt rested, and thanked him so earnestly for his great
kindness to me that he began to laugh and chuckle all to himself and
drag his great chin to and fro across his knuckles.
"Consider yourself fortunate, eh?" he repeated, rising to come into
the thicket and squat on his haunches beside me.
"Yes," said I, wondering what he found so droll in the situation.
"Ever hear of Catamount Jack?" he inquired, after a moment.
"Yes; you mean Jack Mount, the highwayman? But you are mistaken; the
man who follows me is not Jack Mount," I replied, smiling.
"Sure?"
"Oh yes," I said, bitterly; "I ought to know."
"What do you know about Jack Mount?" he asked.
"I? Nothing--that is, nothing except what everybody knows."
"Well, what does Mister Everybody know?" he inquired, sneeringly.
"They say he takes the King's highway," I replied. "There's a book
about him, printed in Boston."
"With a gibbet on the cover," interrupted the big fellow, impatiently.
"Oh, I know all that. But don't they say he's a rebel?"
"Why, yes," I replied; "everybody knows he set fire to the King's
ship, _Gaspee_, and started the rebels a-pitching tea overboard from
Griffin's Wharf."
I stopped short and looked at him in amazement. _He_ was Jack Mount! I
did not doubt it for one moment. And there was the famous Weasel,
too--that little, shrivelled comrade of his!--both corresponding
exactly to their descriptions which I had read in the Boston book, ay,
read to Silver Heels, while her gray eyes grew rounder and rounder at
the exploits of these so-called "Minions of the Moon."
"Well," asked the forest runner, with a chuckle, "do you still think
yourself lucky?"
I managed to say that I thought I was, but my lack of enthusiasm sent
the big fellow into spasms of smothered laughter.
"Now, now, be sensible," he said. "You know you've a belt full of
gold, a string of good wampum in your sack, and as pretty a rifle as
ever I saw. And you still think yourself in luck? And you're supping
with Jack Mount? And the Weasel's watching everything from yonder
hazel-bunch? And Saul Shemuel's pretending to be asleep under that
pine-tree? Why, Mr. Cardigan, you amaze me!" he lisped, mockingly.
So the little Hebrew had recognized me after all. I swallowed a lump
in my throat and rose to my elbow. With Jack Mount beside me, Walter
Butler prowling outside the fire-ring, and I alone, stripped of every
weapon, what in Heaven's sight was left for me to do? Truly, I had
jumped into that same fire which burns below all frying-pans, and
presently must begin a-roasting, too.
"So they say I take the King's highway, eh?" observed Mount, twiddling
his great thumbs over his ramrod and digging his heels into the
pine-needles.
"They say so," I replied, sullenly.
He burst out petulantly: "I never take a _rebel_ purse! The next fool
you hear call me a cut-purse, tell him that to stop his mouth withal!"
And he fell a-muttering to himself: "King's highway, eh? Not mine, not
his, not yours--oh no!--but the King's. By God! I'd like to meet his
Majesty of a moonlight on this same highway of his!"
He turned roughly on me, demanding what brought me into the forest;
but I shook my head, lips obstinately compressed.
"Won't tell, eh?" he growled.
An ugly gleam came into his eyes, but died out again as quickly; and
he shrugged his giant's shoulders and spat out a quid of spruce-gum he
had been chewing.
"One thing's plain as Shemuel's nose yonder," he said, jerking a big
thumb towards the sleeping peddler; "you're a King's man if I'm a
King's highwayman, and I'll be cursed if you go free without a better
accounting than a wag o' your head!"
Cade Renard, the Weasel, had come up while Mount was speaking, and his
bright little eyes gleamed ruby red in the fire-glow as he scanned me
warily from head to toe.
"What's his business?" he inquired of Mount. "I've searched his pack
again, and I can't find anything except the wampum belts."
At this naive avowal I jumped up angrily, forgetting fear, demanding
to know by what right he dared search my pack; but the impassive
Weasel only blinked at Mount and chewed a birch-leaf reflectively.
"What is he, Jack?" he asked again, turning towards me, as though I
had been some new kind of bird.
"Don't know," replied Mount; "not worth the plucking, anyhow. Take his
wampum belts, all the same," he added, with a terrific yawn.
"If you are a patriot," I said, desperately, "you will leave me my
belts and meddle only with your own affairs."
Both men turned and looked at me curiously.
"_You_ are no patriot," said Mount, after a silence.
"Why not?" I persisted.
"Ay--ay--why and why not?" yawned Mount. "I don't know, if you won't
tell. The devil take you, for aught I care! But you won't get your
belts," he added, slyly, watching me askance to note the effect of his
words.
"Why not?" I repeated, choking down my despair.
"Because you'll talk with your belts to some of these damned Indians
hereabouts," he grinned, "and I want to know what you've got to say to
them first."
"I tell you that my belts mean no harm to patriots!" I repeated,
firmly. "You say I am no patriot. I deny it; I am a better patriot
than you, or I should not be in this forest to-day!"
"You are not a patriot," broke in Cade Renard; "you have proved it
already!"
"You say that," I retorted, "because Jack Mount, the highwayman, gives
me the Boston greeting--'God save our country!'--and I do not reply?
What of it? I'm at least patriot enough not to pretend to be one. I am
patriot enough not to rob my own countrymen. I can say 'God save our
country!' as well as you, and I do say it, with better grace than
either of you!"
The men exchanged sullen glances.
"That password is not fit for spies," said Mount, grimly.
"Spy? You take me for a spy?" I cried, in astonishment. "Well, if you
are the famous Jack Mount, you've duller wits than people believe."
"I've wit enough left to keep an eye on you," he roared, starting
towards me; but the Weasel laid his little, rough claw on the giant's
arm, and at the same moment I saw a dark figure step just within the
outer fire-ring, holding up one arm as a sign of peace. The man was
Walter Butler. I dropped back softly into the shadow of the thicket.
Slowly Jack Mount strolled around the rim of the fire-circle, rifle
lying in the hollow of his left arm. He halted a few paces from Butler
and signed for him to remain where he stood. There was no mistaking
that signal, for it was a Mohawk sign, and both men understood that it
meant "Move and I shoot!"
"Well, Captain Butler," he drawled, "what can I do for you?"
"You know me, sir?" replied Butler, without the faintest trace of
surprise in his colourless voice.
"Ay, we all know you," replied Mount, quickly; "even in your Iroquois
dress."
"May I inquire your name, sir?" asked Butler, with that deathly
grimace which was his smile.
"You may inquire, certainly you may inquire," said Mount, cordially.
"You may inquire of my old friend, the moon. Gad, she knows me well,
Captain Butler!"
After a silence Butler said: "You unintentionally misled me last
evening, friend. The man I follow did not cross the river as you
supposed."
"Really?" cried Mount, smiling.
There came another silence, then Butler spoke again:
"I am here on business of my Lord Dunmore; I am here to arrest a young
man who is supposed to lie hidden in your camp. I call on you, sir,
whoever you are, to aid me in execution of the law."
"The law! Gad, she's another acquaintance o' mine, the jade!" said
Mount, laughing. "I suppose you bring that pretty valentine of
hers--what some people call a warrant--do you not, Captain Butler?"
"I do," said Butler, moving forward and holding out a paper. Mount
took it, and, while he read it, he deliberately shoved Butler back
with his elbow to where he had been standing, crowded him back before
his huge, outstretched arm, coolly scanning the warrant the while. And
Butler could not avoid the giant save by retreating, step by step,
beyond the dull red circle, and out against the sky-line, where a
bullet could scarcely miss him.
Mount was now contemplating the warrant in deep admiration. He held it
out at arm's-length, cocking his head on one side; he held it upside
down; he turned it over; he scanned it sideways.
"Oh, Cade!" he called out, cheerily. "'Tis the same old valentine!
Gad, Captain Butler, we have seen them in every one o' the thirteen
colonies--my friend yonder, and I!"
"You are doubtless a sheriff, sir," observed Butler, patiently.
"No," said Mount; "no, not exactly what you could call a sheriff,
Captain Butler; but I have had much business with sheriffs. I owe them
more than I can ever repay," he added, sentimentally.
"Then you will understand, sir, the necessity of aiding the law,"
suggested Butler, holding out his hand for the warrant.
But Mount quietly pocketed the paper and began to whistle and reprime
his rifle.
"May I trouble you for that paper?" asked Butler, with his chilling,
sinister politeness.
There was a pause. Butler's eyes stole around the camp-fire, but only
the little Hebrew was now visible, for I lay in the shadow and the
Weasel had ominously vanished.
"You do not mean to retain this warrant, sir?" demanded Butler,
raising his sneering voice, and searching the thickets for some sign
of the ambushed Weasel.
"Oh, Captain Butler," said Mount, with a gigantic simper, "how can I
resist you? Pray tell me who this bad young Michael Cardigan may be,
and what he has done to get his name on this valentine?"
"It is a matter of treason," retorted Butler, sharply. "Come, my good
man, have done with silly chatter and aid me to my duty in the King's
name!"
Mount burst into a shout of laughter. "That's it! In the King's name!
I've heard that, too,--oh yes, I've heard that o' moonlight nights!"
Butler observed him in astonishment, but Mount held his sides and
roared in his mirth: "Comes friend Butler with his warrant, tripping
it through the woods, and singing of the King like a titmouse on a
stump. Ay, singing to me to help him take a stout fellow in the King's
name! Ha! Ha! Ha! This funny Mr. Sheriff Butler!" Then, in a flash, he
wheeled on Butler, snarling, every tooth bared: "Damn you, sir, do you
take me for your lackey or the King's hangman? To hell with you, sir!
To hell with your King, sir! Did you hear me? I said, to hell with
your King!"
Butler's face paled in the waning fire-light. Presently he said, in
his slow, even tones: "I shall take care that your good wishes reach
the King's ears. Pray, sir, honour me with your name and quality,
though I may perhaps guess both."
"No need to guess," cut in the big fellow, cheerfully. "I'm Jack
Mount; I burned the _Gaspee_, I helped dump his Majesty's tea into
Boston harbour, and I should be pleased to do as much for the King
himself. Tell him so, Captain Butler; tell my Lord Dunmore he can
have a ducking, too, at his lordship's polite convenience."
Butler glared at him, but Mount raised his coon-skin cap and bowed
mockingly. "Charmed, sir, charmed," he simpered. "Pray, permit me to
present my comrade, Sir Cade Renard, of the backwood aristocracy,
sometimes called the Weasel. He's so shy, sir. Friend Weasel, come out
from behind that stump and bring your rifle; step up beside me and
make a very fine bow to his Majesty's deputy-sheriff. Tell the kind
gentleman what good men we are, Cade, and how proud we feel to
entertain him."
The Weasel sauntered up and performed a slow, wriggling bow.
"Minions of the moon, sir," he said; "and so charmed to receive you,
or anything you have of value. Your scalp, now, might bring five
shillings at Baton Rouge, or is that but a scratch wig you wear, sir?"
"Will you deliver me my warrant and my prisoner?" demanded Butler,
with a ghastly smile.
"No!" said Mount, abruptly changing his manner. "Make a new trail, you
Tory hangman! March!" And he gave him a prod with his rifle.
Never had I seen such ferocity expressed on any human face as I saw
now on Mr. Butler's.
He backed out into the brush, at the point of Mount's long rifle; then
the red fire-glow left him, and he was gone into the darkness of early
morning. Presently the Weasel stole after him.
Mount came swaggering back, pausing to drop the warrant on the hot
coals as he passed. Renard returned in a few minutes, took his rifle,
and squatted briskly down just beyond the fire-light.
As Mount came up to me, I rose and thanked him for the protection he
had given so generously, and he laughed and laid one padded fist on my
shoulder.
"Hark ye, friend," he said; "take your Indian belts and your pack and
go in peace, for if Dunmore is after you, the sooner you start north
the better. Go, lad; I'm not your enemy!"
"I go south," I replied, cautiously.
"Oh, you do, eh?" said Mount, fumbling in his pockets for the flint he
had taken from my rifle. "Are you bound for Cresap's camp, too?"
"Are you?" I asked, reddening.
He rubbed his chin, watching me with sulky eyes.
"You answer ever with a question!" he complained, fretfully. "I ask
you this and you ask me that--tom tiddle! tiddle tom!--and I be no
wiser now for all I have heard your name."
"I know Michael Cardigan," observed the Weasel, quietly coming up,
buckling on his pack.
"It's an honourable name," I began, in desperation, striving to stop
him, but the Weasel ignored me and addressed himself to Mount.
"He's one of Sir William Johnson's household. That accounts for those
peace-belts of wampum. Shemuel, yonder, knows the lad."
"Oho!" exclaimed Mount, staring at me. "So you come on Sir William's
business to the Cayugas? Ha! Now I begin to grasp this pretty game.
Sir William wishes his Cayugas to sit tight while Cresap builds
forts--"
"Hush, for God's sake!" I pleaded, seeing that he had guessed all.
"Oh, I'll hush," he replied, eying me with frank curiosity. "I am no
enemy to Sir William. A fairer and more honest gentleman lives not in
these colonies, be he Tory or patriot! Oh, I'll hush, but every one
knows Sir William will not have the Indians take sides in this same
war that's coming so fast upon us. It's no secret, lad; every
pot-house, every tavern tap-room is full o' gossip that Butler means
to rouse the Indians against us, and that Sir William will not have
it!"
"Since when have you come from Johnstown?" I asked, astonished.
"Oh, a week after you left," replied the Weasel. "We saw your tracks,
but we went another way after the first week. You lost too much time."
Mount had now hoisted his pack to his shoulders and stood watching
Shemuel, the Hebrew peddler, strapping up his dingy boxes, tucking in
bits of lace and ribbon and cheap finery.
"Come on, Shemmy, you pigeon-toed woodchuck!" growled Mount, cracking
a fresh lump of spruce-gum in his glistening teeth.
The little Jew looked up at me slyly, his grimy fists buried in the
bowels of his gewgaws.
"Perhaps the gendleman cares to look at som goots?" he observed,
interrogatively. "I haff chains, buckles, pins, needles, buttons,
laces, knifes, ribbons for queue and gollarettes--"
Mount, with the toe of his moccasin, gently reversed Shemuel into one
of his own boxes, then warning him to pack up if he valued his scalp,
took my arm in friendly fashion and moved out into the gray woods.
"Touching this mission of yours to the Cayugas," he said, frankly, "I
see no good to come of it, and I say this with all respect to Sir
William. By-the-bye, Sir William has much to trouble him these days."
"I know that," said I, sadly.
"Oh no, you don't," smiled Mount. "There have been strange doings in
Johnstown since you left: a change has come in a single week, lad;
neighbours no longer speak; the town is three parts Tory to one part
patriot; even brothers hate each other. Two taverns known to be the
meeting-places of patriots have been set afire and shot into; and old
John Butler is gone north, where, they say, he is raising a bloody
crew of cut-throats, rangers, half-breeds, and young Mohawks. Sir
William is holding long talks with Brant and Red Jacket at the upper
castle. Oh, the sands begin to run faster now, and men must soon take
one side or t'other, for there's more troops going to Boston, and that
means the end of King George!"
I did not perhaps realize the importance of all he said; I had seen
too little of the rebels themselves to credit the seriousness of the
situation. But here was an opportunity to sound Mount on the Cresap
affair, and I began earnestly.
"Can you not see that Colonel Cresap is driving the Cayugas into the
King's ranks?"
"What do we care for the Cayugas?" replied Mount, contemptuously; and
it was in vain I wasted argument on this man who had been born a
woodsman, but who knew the savages only from the outside. I could not
make him see the foolish uselessness of angering the Six Nations. He
was one of that kind who detested all Indians, who professed to hold
them in scorn, and who had passed his life in killing all he could.
"What are we to do?" he demanded, sarcastically. "Give up the frontier
and go back to Virginia with tails between our legs?"
"Better that than serve as silly tools for Dunmore!" I retorted hotly.
"Dunmore!" sneered Mount. "We his tools, when the silly ass hasn't
wits to twiddle his own thumbs?"
"He had the wit to send Butler to stop me!" I answered, bitterly.
Mount began to grin again and wink his eyes slyly.
"Butler came for something else, too," he said. "Dunmore's suite
travelled south the day you left, and ought to be in Fortress Pitt by
this hour to-morrow."
"What of it?" I asked.
"Ay, that's it, you see. Since you left Johnstown, all are talking of
the new beauty who threw over Walter Butler--what's her name--a
certain Miss Warren, ward of Sir William; and it is commonly reported
that the dispute over the Indians and the quarrel betwixt Butler and
Sir William stopped the match."
"What of it!" I broke out, hoarsely.
"Only that this beautiful Miss Warren came with Lord Dunmore's suite
to Pittsburg, and Walter Butler has openly boasted he will marry her
spite of Sir William or the devil himself. And here is the lady--and
here comes her rash gallant tumbling after his jill!"
To hear her name in the southern wilderness, to hear these things in
this place, told coarsely, told with a wink and a leer, raised such a
black fury in me that I could scarce see the man before me. As for
speaking, my throat closed and my breast heaved as though to burst the
very straps on my pack. Oh, that I had killed Butler! I clutched my
rifle and glared into the gray waste of misty trees. Somewhere out
there that devil was lurking; and when I had fulfilled my trust I
would seek him and end everything for good and all.
"Are you certain that Miss Warren is already in Pittsburg?" I managed
to ask.
"We saw the ladies and the escort a week since," said Mount. "The
trail is good for horses below Crown Gap, and they were well mounted,
ay, nobly horsed, ladies and troopers, by Heaven! Was it not a
splendid sight, Cade?"
"Gay and godless," replied the Weasel, buckling the straps on his pack
more tightly and shifting the weight with a grunt. "Are you ready,
Jack?"
Mount looked at me.
"Join us and welcome," he said, briefly. "It's safer than going alone.
Our friend, Mr. Sheriff Butler, will be watching for us, and we
mustn't keep the gentleman on tenter-hooks too long, eh, Cade?"
"Certainly not," said Cade; and we moved off due west, Mount leading,
then Shemuel the peddler, then I, the Weasel trotting furtively in the
rear.
At times the little peddler twisted his greasy neck to look back at me
with an inscrutable expression that puzzled me; but he said nothing,
so I only scowled at him, meaning to imply my disgust at his
treachery. However, as we strung out through the forest, I quickened
my pace and came up beside him, saying, "It was not very wise of you,
Shemuel; the next time you come to our house you get no permit to
peddle."
"Ach!" he said, spreading his fingers in deprecation, "don'd speag
aboud it, Mr. Cardigan. Sir William he has giff me so many permids
mitout a shilling to pay. Oh, sir, he iss a grand gendleman, Sir
William, ain't he?"
"What made you betray my name and quality then, Shemuel?" I asked,
curiously.
His small eyes sought mine, then dropped meekly, as he plodded on in
silence. Nor could I get another word from him; so I fell back into my
place, with a glance at the sun, which was still shining directly in
my face.
"The Fort Pitt trail lies west by south," I suggested, over my
shoulder, to the Weasel.
"There's a shorter cut to Cresap," he replied, cunningly.
"Shorter than the Pitt trail?" I asked, astonished.
"Shorter because healthier," he returned. And, answering my puzzled
smile, he added, "A long life on a long trail, but there's ever a
shorter cut to the gibbet!"
Mount, who had fallen back beside us, grinned at me and rubbed his
nose.
"Butler will be sitting up like a bereaved catamount in the Pitt trail
for us," he said. "I've no powder to waste on him and his crew.
However, Mr. Cardigan, if you want to take a long shot, now's your
chance to mark their hides."
He took me by the arm and led me cautiously a few rods to the left,
then crouched down and parted the bushes with his hand. We were
kneeling on the very edge of a precipice which I never should have
seen, and over which I certainly should have walked had I been here
alone. Deep down below us the Ohio flowed, a dark, slow stream, with
jutting rocks on the eastern bank and a long flat sand-spit on the
west.
At the point of this spit a man was standing, leaning on a rifle. It
was not Butler.
"There's another fellow on that rock," whispered Mount, pointing.
"Butler will be watching the slope below our camp."
"Let him watch it," observed the Weasel; "we'll be with Cresap by
moon-rise!"
"You can take a safe shot from here," smiled Mount, looking around at
me; "but it's too far to go for the scalp."
I shook my head, shuddering, and we resumed our march, filing away
into the west in perfect silence until the sun stood in mid-heaven and
the heated air under the great pines drove us to the nearest water,
which I had been sniffing for some time past.
Resting there to drink, I looked curiously at my three companions.
Such a company I had never beheld. There was the notorious Mount, a
giant in stringy buckskins, with a paw like a bear and a smooth,
boyish face cut by the single, heavy crease of a scar below the right
eye. With his regular features and indolent movements, he appeared to
me like some overgrown village oaf, too stupid to work, too lazy to
try.
Beside him squatted the little Jew, toes turned in, dirty thumbs
joined pensively, musing in his red beard. His boots had left the
foreign mark which I had seen the day before in the trail; the
Weasel's moccasins were those of Albany make.
I examined the Weasel. Such a shrunken, serene, placid little
creature, all hunting-shirt and cap, with two finely chiselled flat
ears, which perhaps gave him that alert allure, as though eternally
listening to some sound behind his back.
But the mouths of these three men were curiously well made, bespeaking
a certain honesty which I began to believe they perhaps possessed
after all. Even Shemuel's mouth, under his thin, red beard, was not
the mouth of treachery, though the lips were shrewd enough, God wot!
"Well," cried Mount suddenly, "what do you think of us?"
Somewhat embarrassed, I replied politely, but Mount shook his head.
"You were thinking, what a row of gallows-birds for an honest man to
flock with! Eh? Oh, don't deny it. You can't hurt my feelings, but you
might hurt the Weasel's--eh, Cade?"
"I have sensitive feelings," said the Weasel dryly.
"I think you all stood by me when I was in distress," said I. "I ask
no more of my friends than that."
"Well, you're a good lad," said Mount, getting to his feet and patting
my shoulder as he passed me.
"Give him something to wreck his life and he'd make a rare ranger,"
observed the Weasel.
"Cade was in love," explained Mount soberly; "weren't you Cade?"
The weazened little man nodded his head and looked up at me
sentimentally.
"Yes," went on Mount, "Cade was in love and got married. His wife ran
away somewheres--didn't she Cade?"
Again the little creature nodded, looking soberly at me for sympathy.
"And then," continued Mount, "he just hunted around till he found me,
and we went to hell together--didn't we, Cade, old friend?"
Two large tears stole down the Weasel's seamy cheeks. He rubbed them
off with his smoky fists, leaving smears beside his nose.
"She took our baby, too," he sniffed; "you forgot that, Jack."
"So I did, so I did," said Mount, pityingly. "Come on, friends, the
sun's sliding galley west, and it's a longer road to the devil than
Boston preachers tell you. Come, Shemmy, old chuck, hoist that pretty
nose up on both feet! Now, Mr. Cardigan!"
We marched on heavily, bearing southwest, descending the great slope
of mountain and table-land which was but a vast roof, shedding a
thousand streams into the slow Ohio, now curving out below us, red as
blood in the kindling coals of sunset.
The river seemed but a mile distant, so clear was the air in the
mountains, but we journeyed on, hour after hour, until the big yellow
moon floated above the hills, and the river faded into the blue
shadows of a splendid night.
Mount had thrown aside all caution now. He strode on ahead, singing a
swinging air with full-chested lungs:
"Come, all you Tryon County men,
And never be dismayed,
But trust in the Lord,
And He will be your aid!"
And one by one we all took up the stirring song, singing cheerily as
we marched in file, till the dark forest rang back word for word.
And I do remember Shemuel, his thumbs in his arm-pits, and cap over
one eye, singing right lustily and footing it proudly beside Mount.
Suddenly a light twinkled on the edge of a clearing, then another
broke out like a star in the bush, and soon all about us cabin-windows
gleamed brightly and we were marching down a broad road, full of
stones and stumps, and lined on either side by cultivated land and
cabins enclosed in little stockades.
"Shoulder arms! Right wheel!" cried Mount; and we filed between two
block-houses, and across a short bridge, and halted, grounding arms
under the shadow of a squatty fort built with enormous logs.
The sentry had called out the guard, and the corporal in charge came
up to us, lifting his lanthorn. He greeted Mount cheerfully, nodding
and smiling at Renard also.
"Who the devil is this he-goat with red whiskers?" he demanded,
illuminating Shemuel's cheerful features.
"Friend of liberty," said Mount, in a low voice. "Is Colonel Cresap in
the fort, corporal?"
"No," said the corporal, looking hard at me; "he's off somewhere. Who
is this gentleman, Jack?"
I looked at Mount, perhaps appealingly, wondering what he would say.
But he did not hesitate; he laid his great paw on my shoulder and
said, "He's a good lad, corporal; give him a bed and a bowl o'
porridge, and it's a kindness to Jack Mount you will do."
Then he held out his hand to me, and I took it.
"Good-night lad," he said, heartily. "We'll meet again to-morrow. I've
a few friends to see to-night. Sleep tight to the bed and think not
too much ill of this same Catamount Jack they write books about."
The Weasel sidled up and offered his small, dry hand.
"If you were ruined," he said, regretfully, "you'd make a rare
wood-runner."
I thanked him uncertainly and returned Shemuel's low obeisance with an
unforgiving nod.
"Pray, follow me, sir," said the corporal, with a civil bow, and I
walked after him through the postern, out across the moonlit parade,
and into the western barracks, where he lighted me to a tiny casemate
and pointed to a door.
"We have messed, but there's some cold meat and a jug of cider for
you," he said, affably. "Yonder's a bucket of water, and I'll leave
this lanthorn for you. Open that door, and you'll find food and drink.
Good-night, sir."
"Good-night," I said, "and pardon my importunity, but I have a message
for Colonel Cresap."
"He returns to the fort to-morrow," said the soldier. Then, lingering,
he asked the news from Boston and whether any more troops had been
sent thither. But I did not know and he retired presently, whistling
"The White Cockade," and making passes at the moonbeams with his
bright bayonet.
As for me, I sat down on the bed, and slipping my sack from my
shoulders, I rolled over on the blanket, meaning only to close my eyes
for a minute. But dawn was shining in through the loopholes of the
casemate ere I unclosed my eyes to the world again, and the drums and
fifes were playing, the sun above the horizon.
Bang! went a cannon from the parapet, and, leaning out of the
porthole, I saw the flag of England crawling up the halyards over my
head.
I sprang out of bed, and without waiting for food, though I was half
famished, I dressed hurriedly and ran out across the parade to the
postern.
"How far is the Cayuga castle?" I asked the sentinel.
"About a mile up the river," he replied, adding: "It's not very safe
to go there just now. The Indians have been restless these three
weeks, and I guess there's deviltry hatching yonder."
"Don't they come in to the village at all?" I inquired, glancing
around at half a dozen men who had gathered at the postern to watch
the morning parade.
"There's a Cayuga, now," said the sentry, pointing to a short,
blanketed figure squatting outside the drawbridge.
I walked across the bridge and approached the Indian, who immediately
rose when he saw me, as though he expected ill-treatment, a kick
perhaps. The movement was full of sad significance to me, like the
cowering of a mistreated hound. Shame to those who inspire cringing in
beasts! Double dishonour on those before whom men cower!
So this was the result of Cresap's coming! I saw it all in an instant;
the bullying, overbearing pioneers were here to stay, backed by cannon
and fort and a thousand long rifles, backed, too, by my Lord Dunmore,
to play for a stake, the winning of which meant woe unspeakable to my
native land.
The Indian was watching me sullenly. I held out my hand and said:
"Peace, brother. I am a belt-bearer."
There was a silence. After a moment he took my hand.
"Peace, bearer of belts," he said, quietly.
"Our council fire is at Onondaga," I said.
"It burns on the Ohio, too," he replied, gravely.
"It burns at both doors of the Long House," I said. "Go to your
sachems and wise men. Say to them that Quider is dead; that the three
clans who mourn shall be raised up; that Sir William has sent six
belts to the Cayuga. I bear them."
He stared at me for a full minute, then gravely turned north, across
the cleared land, drawing his scarlet blanket over his face.
All that morning I waited patiently for Mount to come, believing that
he might have some friend in the village who would give me a lodging
where I could lie hid until Colonel Cresap returned to the fort.
Whether Butler had gone on to Pittsburg or whether he still lay in
ambush for me below Crown Gap, I did not know.
One thing was clear: I could not remain at the fort without risk of
arrest if Butler arrived in Cresap's camp with a new warrant. Every
moment I tarried here in the barracks might bring danger nearer; yet,
where was I to go?
Bitterly disappointed at the news that Cresap was in Pittsburg, I
durst not, however, journey thither in search of him, for fear he
might have started to return, and so risk passing him on the trails,
of which there were seven that traversed the forest betwixt Pittsburg
Fortress and Cresap's camp. And on the morrow, too, must I needs
deliver my belts to the Cayugas at their castle. This was even more
important than intercepting Colonel Cresap; for I might gain Cresap by
argument, even though he returned here with fresh instructions from
Lord Dunmore, and his mind poisoned against me by Walter Butler; but
I, personally, could hope to wield no influence with the Cayugas save
by what authority was invested in me through Sir William's wampum
pledges.
However, spite of my dangerous predicament, I was ravenously hungry,
and made out to clean my platter and bowl as many times as they cared
to replenish it. Then I thanked my host, the corporal, and we shook
hands in friendly fashion, he inquiring when I expected my friend
Mount to return for me, and I replying that I did not know, but would
make ready to join him at once.
The corporal, whose name was Paul Cloud, a New York man by birth,
aided me to strap on my pack, conversing the while most agreeably, and
finally, when I was prepared, he accompanied me to the parade-ground,
where two companies of Virginia militia were drilling on the grass.
"My duties take me to the south stockade," he said, once more offering
his hand. And again I thanked him for his hospitality so warmly that
he seemed a trifle surprised.
"What friend of liberty could expect less?" he protested, smiling.
"Are you a recent recruit, sir, that you marvel at the good-fellowship
among us?"
"Are you, too, of that fellowship?" I exclaimed, amazed to find rebels
in uniform.
He looked at me rather blankly.
"You'll scarce find a Tory in the regiment," he said, beginning to be
amused at my ignorance. "As for Colonel Cresap's colonists yonder,
I'll warrant them all save some two score malignants like Greathouse,
the store-keeper, and the company he keeps."
His unsuspicious assumption that I was a rebel placed me in a most
delicate and unhappy position. I knew not what to say nor how to
explain the misunderstanding without, perhaps, seriously damaging Jack
Mount, who had vouched for me--as a friend, I supposed, not as a rebel
comrade.
"I am afraid I do not merit your confidence in matters touching the
fellowship to which you and my friend Mount adhere," I said, stiffly,
determined not to wear false colours. "I am not a patriot, corporal,
and Jack Mount meant only a kindness to a brother man in distress."
Cloud cut me short with a hearty laugh.
"I guess Jack Mount knows what he is about," he said, clapping me on
the shoulder. "Half our men are somewhat backward and distrustful,
like you; but I'll warrant them when the time comes! Oh, I know them!
It's your fawning, slavering, favour-currying Tory that I shy at! Ay,
the man who snatches the very speech from between your teeth to agree
with you. None o' that kind for me. I know them."
He stood there, serene, smiling, with folded arms, his kindly eyes
void of all distrust; and I thought to myself that such a man must
needs have at least an honest grievance to oppose his King withal.
"Well," he said, abruptly, "time is on the wing, friend. So fare you
pleasantly, and--God save our country!"
"Amen," I replied, before I realized that I had acknowledged the
famous patriots' greeting. He turned around to laugh significantly,
then walked away towards the sallyport, swinging his hanger
contentedly.
Ill-pleased with my bungling in such a delicate situation, and greatly
disturbed at having implied my adherence to this fellowship of which I
yet knew nothing, I stood on the parade, biting my lips in vexation
and wondering where in the world to go.
The two companies of Virginia militia were marching and
counter-marching at "support," halberdiers guiding, drummers and
fifers leading off, and a long, lean major pacing to and fro, and
watching the two captains with keen, wrinkled eyes.
The militia were mostly Virginians born, tall, stout fellows, smartly
uniformed in drab and scarlet, and wearing the bugle on their
cross-belts, indicating them to be light infantry. Truly, they wheeled
and halted and marched and counter-marched most adroitly, carefully
preserving distances and alignment; and I thought the major a martinet
that he found nothing but fault with the officers and men. Certainly
they paraded perfectly, their black knee-gaitered legs moving in
unison, their muskets steady, their left arms swinging as one, which
interested me because, in our militia of Tryon County, to swing the
free arm is not allowed.
But I had no business to linger here; I felt that every minute
redoubled my danger. Yet again I asked myself where under heaven I
could go, and I thought bitterly of Mount for leaving me here
neglected.
Plainly the first thing to be done was to get out of the fort. This I
accomplished without the slightest trouble, nobody questioning me; and
I shortly found myself in the road which appeared to be the main
street of Cresap's village.
The fort, I now perceived, stood on a low hill in the centre of
cleared ground. The road encircled the fort, then ran west through a
roughly cultivated country, dotted with cabins of logs plastered over
with blue clay. The circumference of the village itself appeared to be
inconsiderable. Everywhere the dark circle of the forest seemed to
crowd in the desolate hamlet; I say desolate, for indeed the scene
was grim, even for the frontier. The whole country had a black
appearance from the thousands of charred roots and stumps which choked
the fields. Dead trees lay in heaps, stark patches of dead pines stood
like gray spectres, blasted hemlocks, with foliage seared rusty, lined
the landscape, marking the zones doomed to cultivation. These latter
were girdled trees, but I saw no attempt to preserve any trees for
shade around the cabins, or for shade along the fences, or for beauty.
We in Johnstown never girdled the bush without preserving rows of
trees to ornament roads and fields, and this dismal destruction by
fire and axe reacted on my sombre thoughts, depressing me dolefully.
Under a leaden sky, through which a pale sun peered fitfully, the
blackened waste about me seemed horrible and ominous of horrors to
come; the very soil in the fields was black with charcoal, through
which the young corn struggled up into the fading sunshine as though
strangling.
Cresap's Maryland colonists were busy everywhere with harrow and
plough and axe and spade. The encircling woods echoed and re-echoed
with their chopping; their voices rang out, guiding the slow ox-teams
among the stumps. At intervals the crack of a rifle signalled the
death of some partridge or squirrel close by.
There were men in the fields labouring half-naked at the unyielding
roots; men in linen shirts and smalls, planting or weeding; men moving
in distant fields, aimlessly perhaps, perhaps planning a rough home,
perhaps a grave.
Women sometimes passed along the paths, urging gaunt cattle to gaunter
pasture; children peered from high door-sills, hung from unpainted
windows, quarrelled in bare door-yards, half seen through stockades;
some chopped fire-wood, some carried water, some played in the ditches
or sailed chips in the dark, slow stream that crawled out across the
land towards the Ohio.
And here and there, on little knolls dotting the scene, tall riflemen
stood, leaning on their weapons; sentinels mounting guard over flock
and family below.
I looked at the flag on the fort; its dull folds hung dark and
lifeless under a darkening sky. Below it paced a sentry to and fro,
to and fro, with the gray light on his musket shining dimly.
I looked towards the black woods. They seemed to promise more
protection than fort and flag; there was less gloom under their
branches than under these sad cabin-roofs.
Unconsciously I began to walk towards the forest, yet with no idea
what I should do there. A child here and there saluted me from
stockade gates; now and then an anxious woman's face appeared at a
window, watching me out of sight along the charred road. Presently I
passed a double log-house, from the eaves of which dangled a green
bush. The door bore a painted sign-board also, representing a large
house with arms and legs like a man, at which I puzzled, but could not
guess the significance.
I needed salt, having for the last week used white-wood ashes to
savour my corn withal, so I entered the tavern and made known my needs
to a coarse-featured, thick-set fellow, who lay in a chair smoking a
clay pipe.
He rose instanter, all bows and smiles and cringing to my orders,
begging me to be seated until he could find the salt sack in the
cellar; and I sat down, after saluting the company, which consisted of
half a dozen men playing cards by the window.
They all returned my salute, some leaning clear around to look at me;
and although they resumed their game I noticed that they began talking
in whispers, pausing sometimes in a shuffle to turn their eyes on me.
Presently the landlord came in with my small bag of salt, and set it
on the scales with many a bow and smirk at me to beg indulgence for
his delay.
"You have travelled far, sir," he said, pointedly; "there is northern
mud on your hunting-shirt and southern burrs on your legging fringe.
Ha! A stroke, sir! Touched, by your leave, sir! I have run the forests
myself, sir, and I read as I run--I read as I run."
He was tying my sack up with grass, clumsily I thought for one who had
lived as a forest-runner. But I waited patiently, he meanwhile
conversing most politely. In fact, I could find no opportunity to
courteously make an end to his garrulous chatter, and, ere I could
refuse or prevent it, he had persuaded me to a pewter of home-brew
and had set it before me, brimming with good stout foam.
"No water there, sir!" he observed, proudly; "body and froth hum like
bee-hives in August! It is my own, sir, my own, barrel and malt and
hops!"
I could do no less than taste the ale, and he picked up his pipe and
begged the honour of sitting in my presence: all of which ceremony
revealed to me that my language and bearing were not at all in concord
with my buckskin and my pack, and that he was quite aware of the
discrepancy.
"Perchance, sir, you have news from Boston?" he asked, with a jolly
laugh.
I shook my head. The company at the table by the window had paused to
listen.
"Well, well," he said, puffing his long clay into a glow, "these be
parlous times, sir, the world over! And, between ourselves, sir,
begging your pardon for the familiarity, sir, I have been wondering
myself whether the King is wholly right."
The stillness in the room was intense.
"Doubt," said I, carelessly, "is no friend to loyalty."
I was drinking when I finished this choice philosophy, but through the
glass bottom of my pewter I surprised a very cunning squint in his
puffy eyes.
"Oho!" thought I, "you wish to know my politics, eh? Let us see how
much you'll find out!" And I set down my pewter with a sigh of
contentment and tossed him a shilling for my reckoning.
"But," he suggested, "cannot even the King be deceived by unscrupulous
counsellors?"
"The King should know better than you whether his ministers be what
you accuse them of being," I said, seriously.
"I meant no accusation," he said, hastily; "but I voiced the
sentiments of many honest neighbours of mine."
"Sentiments which smack somewhat of treason," I interrupted, coldly.
Through the bottom of my mug again I saw he was still far from
satisfied concerning my real sentiments. I listened as I drank: the
card-players behind me were not playing.
"Landlord," I asked, carelessly, cutting short another argument,
"what may your tavern sign mean with its house running loose on a pair
o' legs?"
"It is my own name, sir," he laughed, "Greathouse! I flatter me there
is some small wit in the conceit, sir, though I painted yon sign
myself!"
So this was Greathouse, a notorious loyalist--this bloated lout who
had been prying and picking at me to learn my sentiments? The slyness
of the fellow disgusted me, and I could scarce control my open
aversion, though I did succeed in leaving him with his suspicions
lulled, and got out of the house without administering to him the kick
which my leg was itching for.
From the corner of my eye I could see the card-players watching me
from the window; it incensed me to be so spied upon, and I was glad
when a turn in the scurvy, rutted road shut me out of their vision.
There were several houses just beyond me to the left; one displayed a
holly-bush and wrinkled berries, a signal to me to avoid it, and I
should have done so had I not perceived Jack Mount loafing in the
doorway, and Shemuel seated on the horse-block, eating a dish of fish
with his fingers.
From the blotched face and false smile of Greathouse to the filthy
company of Shemuel was no advantage. If these two creatures were
representatives of their respective causes, I had small stomach for
either them or their parties. Tory and patriot, pot-licker and Jew,
they disgusted me; and I returned Mount's cheery salute with a sullen
nod, not pausing at the house as I passed by.
He came out into the road after me, asking what had gone amiss; and I
told him he had left me at the fort without advice or counsel, and
that I had quitted the barracks, not caring to be caught there by
Butler and his warrant.
"Shame on you, lad, for the thought!" said Mount, angrily. "Do you
think we do things by halves, Cade and I? The Weasel has been in touch
with Butler's men all night, ready to warn you the moment they started
for this camp! He's asleep in there, now," jerking his huge thumb
towards the inn, "and I've just returned from seeing Butler well on
the trail towards Pittsburg."
Mortified and ashamed at my complaint, and deeply touched by the
quiet kindness of these two men who had, spite of fatigue, voluntarily
set out to watch while I slept, I silently offered my hand to Mount.
He took it fretfully, complaining that all the world had always
misunderstood him as I had, and vowing he would never more do kindness
to man or beast or good red herring!
"Small blame if the world requites your generosity as stupidly as I
do," said I; whereat he fell a-laughing and drew me with him into the
tavern, vowing we should wash out all bitterness in a draught of ale.
The inn, which was called "The Leather Bottle," appeared to be clean
though rough. Tables and chairs were massive, hewn out of buckeye;
horn instead of glass filled the tiny squares in the window frames,
and a shelf ran around the tap-room just below the loopholes, whereon
men could stand to fire in any direction.
Mount presented me to a young man in homespun who had been sitting by
the chimney, reading a letter--a quiet, modest gentleman of thirty,
perhaps, somewhat travel-stained and spotted with reddish mud, which
proclaimed him an arrival from the south.
He gave me a firm, cool clasp of the hand and a curiously sharp yet
not unkindly smile, promising to join us when he had finished the
letter he was reading.
I had meant to tell Mount of my conversations with Corporal Cloud and
with Greathouse, but hesitated because the smallness of the room would
carry even a whisper to the stranger by the chimney.
Mount must have divined my intentions, for he said, in his hearty,
deep-chested voice, "You may say what you please here, Mr. Cardigan,
and trust this gentleman from Maryland as you trust me, I hope."
I had not caught the name of the young man from Maryland, and was
diffident about asking. He looked up from his letter with a brief
smile and nod at us, and we sat down beside one of the hewn buckeye
tables and called upon the tap-boy for home-brew.
I began by telling Mount very frankly that he had put me in a false
position as a rebel. I retailed my conversation with Corporal Cloud,
how I had felt it dishonourable to accept hospitality under a
misunderstanding, and how I had deemed it necessary to confess me. But
this only appeared to amuse Mount, who laughed at me maliciously over
his brown tankard and sucked in the frothy ale with unfeigned smacks
of satisfaction.
"Tiddle--diddle--diddle! Who the devil cares!" he said. "I wish half
of our patriots possessed your tender conscience, friend Michael."
I swallowed a draught in silence, not at all pleased to feel myself
forced into a position whither it appeared everybody was conspiring to
drive me.
"I'm loyal to the King," I said, bluntly; "and when I am ready to
renounce him, I shall do so, not before."
"Certainly," observed Mount, complacently.
"Not that I care for Tory company, either," I added, in disgust,
thinking of my encounter with Greathouse. And I related the affair to
Mount.
The big fellow's eyes narrowed and he set his tankard down with a
bang.
"A sneak!" he said. "A sly, mealy-mouthed sneak! Look out for this
fellow Greathouse, my friend. By Heaven, I'm sorry he saw you! You can
depend upon it the news of your arrival here will be carried to
Butler. Why, this fellow, Greathouse, is a notorious creature of Lord
Dunmore, set here to spy on Colonel Cresap and see that the militia
have no commerce with rebel emissaries from Boston. Gad, had I not
believed you trusted me, and that you would sit snug in the fort
yonder instead of paying calls of state on all the Tories in town--"
He took a pull at the fresh tankard, set it down two-thirds empty, and
lay back in his chair, licking his lips thoughtfully.
"How long do you stay here?" he asked.
"Until I deliver my belts--that will be to-morrow."
"I thought you wished to see Colonel Cresap, too?" he said.
"I do; he will return to-day they tell me."
Mount leaned over the table, folding his arms under his chest.
"Hark ye, friend Michael," he said. "Colonel Cresap, three-quarters of
the militia, and all save a score or so of these villagers here are
patriots. The Maryland pioneers mean to make a home here for
themselves, Indians or no Indians, and it will be little use for you
to plead with Colonel Cresap, who could not call off his people if he
would."
"If he is a true patriot," I said, "how can he deliberately drive the
Six Nations to take up arms against the colonies?"
"What you don't understand," replied Mount, "is that Colonel Cresap's
people hold the Indians at small account. They are here and they mean
to stay here, spite of Sir William Johnson and the Cayugas."
"But can't you see that it's Dunmore's policy to bring on a clash?" I
exclaimed, in despair. "If Cresap is conciliatory towards the Cayugas,
can't you see that Dunmore will stir up such men as Butler and
Greathouse to commit some act of violence? I tell you, Dunmore means
to have a war started here which will forever turn the Six Nations
against us."
"Against _us_?" said Mount, meaningly.
"Yes--_us_!" I exclaimed. "If it be treason to oppose such a monstrous
crime as that which Lord Dunmore contemplates, then I am guilty! If to
be a patriot means to resist such men as Dunmore and Butler--ay, and
our Governor Tryon, too, who knows what is being done and says
nothing!--if to defend the land of one's birth against the plots of
these men makes me an enemy to the King, why--why, then," I ended,
violently, "I am the King's enemy to the last blood drop in my body!"
There was a silence. I sat there with clinched fist on the table,
teeth set, realizing what I had said, glad that I had said it, grimly
determined to stand by every word I had uttered.
"Lord Dunmore represents the King," said Mount, smiling.
"Prove it to me and I am a rebel from this moment!" I cried.
"But Lord Dunmore is only doing his duty," urged Mount. "His Majesty
needs allies."
"Do you mean to say that Lord Dunmore is provoking war here at the
King's command?" I asked, in horror.
The young man by the chimney stood up and bent his pleasant eyes on
me.
"I have here," he said, tapping the letter in his hand, "my Lord
Dunmore's commission as major-general of militia, and his Majesty's
permission to enlist a thousand savages to serve under me in the event
of rebellion in these colonies!"
I had risen to my feet at the sound of the stranger's voice; Mount,
too, had risen, tankard in hand.
"I am further authorized," said the young stranger, coolly, "by
command of my Lord Dunmore, to offer L12 sterling for every rebel
scalp taken by these Indian allies of his most Christian Majesty."
At that I went cold and fell a-trembling.
"By God!" I stammered. "By the blood of man!--this is too much--this
is too--"
Crash! went Mount's tankard on the table; and, turning to the young
stranger with a bow, "I bring you a new recruit, Colonel Cresap," he
said, quietly; "will you administer the oath, sir?"
Thunderstruck, I stared at the silent young man in his gray woollen
hunting-shirt and cloth gaiters who stood there, grave eyes bent on
me, tearing at the edge of his paper with his white teeth.
"Pray, be seated, Mr. Cardigan," he said, smiling. "I know you have a
message for me from Sir William Johnson. I hold it an honour to
receive commands from such an honourable and upright gentleman."
He drew up a heavy buckeye chair, motioning Mount and me to be seated;
the tap-boy brought his tankard; he tasted it sparingly, and leaned
back, waiting for me to speak.
If my speech was halting or ill-considered, my astonishment at the
identity of the stranger was to blame; but I spoke earnestly and
without reserve, and my very inexperience must have pleaded with him,
for he listened patiently and kindly, even when I told him, with some
heat, that the whole land would hold him responsible for an outbreak
on the frontier.
When I had finished, he thanked me for coming, and begged me to convey
his cordial gratitude to Sir William. Then he began his defence, very
modestly and with frankest confession that he had been trapped by
Dunmore into a pitfall, the existence of which he had never dreamed
of.
"I am to-day," he said, "the Moses of these people, inasmuch as I
have, at Lord Dunmore's command, led them into this promised land. God
knows it was the blind who led the blind. And now, for months, I have
been aware that Dunmore wishes a clash with the Cayugas yonder; but,
until Sir William Johnson opened my eyes, I have never understood why
Lord Dunmore desired war."
He looked at Mount as though to ask whether that notorious
forest-runner had suspected Dunmore; and Mount shook his head with a
sneer.
"He is a witless ass," he muttered. "I see nothing in Mr. Cardigan's
fears that Dunmore means trouble here."
"_I_ do," said Cresap, calmly. "Sir William is right; we have been
tricked into this forest. Why, Jack, it's perfectly plain to me now.
This very commission in my hands, here, proves the existence of every
missing link in the chain of conspiracy. This commission is made out
for the purpose of buying my loyalty to Dunmore. Can't you see?"
Mount shook his head.
Cresap flushed faintly and turned to me.
"What can I do, Mr. Cardigan? I have led these people here, but I
cannot lead them back. Do you think they would follow me in a retreat?
You do not know them. If I should argue with them every day for a
year, I could not induce a single man to abandon the cabin he has
built or the morsel of charred earth he has planted. And where should
I lead them? I have nothing behind me to offer them. Virginia is
over-populated. I have no land to give them except this, granted by
the King--granted in spite of his royal oath, now broken to the
Cayugas.
"You say the whole country will hold me responsible. I cannot help
that, though God must know how unjust it would be.
"Were I to counsel the abandonment of this fort and village, Lord
Dunmore would arrest me and clap me into Fort Pitt. Is it not better
for me to stay here among these people who trust me? Is it not better
that I remain and labour among my people in the cause of liberty?
"I can do nothing while a royal Governor governs Virginia. But if the
time ever comes when our Boston brothers sound the call to arms, I
can lead six hundred riflemen out of this forest, whose watchword will
be, 'Liberty or Death!'"
He had grown pale while speaking; two bright scarlet patches flamed
under his cheek-bones; he coughed painfully and rested his head on his
hand.
"Go to your Cayugas," he said, catching his breath. "Tell them the
truth, or as much of the truth as Sir William's wisdom permits. I am
here to watch, to watch such crafty agents as Greathouse, and young
Walter Butler, whom I met on the Pitt trail three hours since. Oh, I
understand the situation now, Mr. Cardigan."
He tasted his ale once more, thoughtfully.
"Keep Sir William's Cayugas quiet if you can," he said. "I will watch
Dunmore's agents that they do nothing to bring on war. I may fail, but
I will do what I can. When do you speak to the Cayugas with belts?"
"At dawn," I replied, soberly.
"Poor devils," said Cresap, sadly, "poor, tricked, cheated, and
plundered devils! This is their land. I should never have come had not
Dunmore assured me the Cayugas had been paid for the country. And
there is their great sachem, Logan, called 'The Friend of the White
Man.' Greathouse has made a drunken sot of Logan, and all his family
down to the tiny maid of ten. Ay, sir, I have seen Logan's children
lying drunk in the road there by Greathouse's tavern--poor, little
babies of twelve and ten, stark-naked, lying drunk in the rain!"
After a moment I asked why he had not expelled this fiend, Greathouse,
and he replied that he had, but that Dunmore had sent him back under
his special protection.
"What on earth can I do?" he repeated. "The Cayuga camp is rotten with
whiskey. Their chiefs and sachems come to me and beg me to forbid the
sale. I am powerless; for back of me stands Lord Dunmore in the shape
of Greathouse. By God, sir, the man is a nightmare to me!"
"Why not twist his gullet?" observed Mount.
Cresap paid him no attention, and the big fellow pouted, muttering
that it was a simple thing to exterminate vermin.
As we sat there, I heard the rain drumming against the horn panes in
the window. The room had grown very dark.
Cresap rose, holding out his hand to me.
"Shall I administer the oath of fellowship, my friend?" he asked.
"Not yet," I replied, taking his hand.
"When you are ready, Mr. Cardigan," he said, simply. "Will you lodge
here? That is well; the fort is not safe. And, if I mistake not, young
Butler will be here to-morrow to search for you. He begged me to have
you arrested should you be in my camp."
"I shall be at the Cayuga castle by dawn," I said.
"And after that?" inquired Mount. "You are not going to leave us, are
you, lad?"
"I have my message to deliver to Sir William," I answered, earnestly;
"and," I added, "truly, I do not believe there is anything on earth
that can prevent my delivering my message, nor retard my returning and
slaying this frightful enemy of mankind, Walter Butler."