SHOWS HOW STARTLING NEWS WAS NAT’S REWARD AT CHEW HOUSE
Nat Brewster continued to watch the lantern and the two whose way it
lighted, until the flame grew faint and flickering; finally a bend in
the road hid it altogether.
“So that is old Stephen Comegies,” he said. “Well, I never thought I’d
be pleased to see a Tory, but I’m glad to meet this one; for I think
he’s clinched my belief that there is some sort of a plot on foot
against Congress.”
Through the trees he saw the winking windows of Cliveden, and he
regarded them soberly.
“Some people from the north are expected,” he continued, “and they are
going there.” He stood for a moment in silence; then suddenly he threw
back his head and laughed. “I’m from the north, just as I told the old
man,” he said, “and,” clutching the oaken cudgel firmly, “I’m going to
Chew House, also as I told him.”
He clambered over the fence at the opposite side of the road and
started across the fields once more. The dense growth of trees between
him and the mansion loomed blackly before his face. There was a breeze
stirring and the boughs set up a warning whispering.
“There is no doubt of it,” said Nat, and he laughed at the conceit;
“the trees are on the side of the colonies. This morning they told Ben
of coming war; and now they are doing their best to make me keep my
distance.”
However this might be, the young mountaineer did not heed the warning,
but went steadily on. When once among the trees his pace became slower;
but finally he struck a broad road, where the dim sheen of the sky was
visible through the branches.
“This evidently leads up to the house,” muttered the lad. “It has the
well-kept feel of a private way.”
In this he was correct. It was not more than a few minutes when the
lights of the house came into view; the broad windows were like great
yellow eyes and winked genially out upon a wide lawn where flitting,
shadowy people came and went.
“Men,” said Nat, to himself, “and quite a number of them.”
Cautiously he drew nearer; at length he came to a low stone wall at the
edge of the road, and taking his place behind this, he set himself to
learn what was going forward.
“Ben said there were Tory meetings held here,” he continued. “And I
shouldn’t wonder if this were one of them. And, perhaps,” his grip
tightening upon the club which he still retained, “a very important
one, considering what Stephen Comegies hinted at.”
After a little his eyes grew accustomed to the wide beams of light with
the shadows thickening at their edges; then he began to make out the
figures upon the lawn as those of men pacing backward and forward in
twos and threes.
“And very impatiently, I should say,” Nat told himself shrewdly, as he
watched the men. “They act like persons delayed in something which they
are anxious to accomplish.”
The wall was at the far side of the lawn; at first none approached it;
but finally Nat noticed a pair, who seemed even more impatient than
the rest, gradually coming nearer and nearer as they unconsciously
lengthened their course at each turn in their walk. One was a lean,
stoop-shouldered man; the other was tall and burly; their arms
were locked, their heads were close together and they seemed to be
discussing some exasperating situation that had arisen.
Nat watched this twain expectantly.
“At the next turn they’ll get near enough for me to hear what they are
saying,” he calculated. “Then, maybe, I’ll learn something worth while.”
Sure enough, the next turn brought the two within ear-shot. The first
words that Nat caught were from the burly personage, and they made him
catch his breath and shrink closer to the wall.
“It would have been much better if we had thought of this in time
to intercept that parcel of rascals from Massachusetts Bay,” the
big man said in a harsh voice that was much like the grumbling of a
dissatisfied animal. “The ring-leaders of the entire movement were in
that party and with them safely aboard a British ship, we’d soon have
them in England for trial and execution.”
As he spoke he slashed at his high boots with a riding-whip and gave
every evidence of being in a towering rage. But the lean man with the
stooped shoulders spoke soothingly,
“Don’t let your feelings get the better of you, my dear Royce,” said
he. “We must have a beginning somewhere, and the Massachusetts members
of the rebel Congress were already safely in the city when young
Prentiss suggested this idea to us.”
Prentiss! Nat Brewster heard the name with a shock of recollection. But
at the instant the recollection was only as to having heard it before.
He mentally groped about seeking to place it; then suddenly the facts
came to him like a flash.
“It’s the name of Ben’s school friend,” he thought. “Is it possible
that----” but he drove the thought from him. “No, it can’t be the same.
There are many others of that name, of course.”
The two men turned slowly and began to retrace their steps.
“He should have communicated with us sooner,” maintained Royce in his
disagreeable grumble.
“You may depend upon it that he made all the speed he could,” replied
the other. “I never saw a lad more anxious about anything than he was
regarding the taking of that firebrand Samuel Adams.”
Royce began speaking once more; but they were too distant now for Nat
to make out his words; and the indistinct grumble died as the men
slowly paced away.
“Prentiss!” muttered Nat, still sternly holding back the idea that
tried to possess him. “It’s an odd kind of a coincidence, but that’s
all it is. It can’t be Ben’s friend! Why, of course it can’t,” with a
relieved laugh as another thought came to him. “This Prentiss of whom
these two were speaking is eager to bring ill-fortune upon Mr. Adams,
while the one I’ve heard so much of since I came to Germantown is his
friend.”
But in spite of the laugh and in spite of the reasoning, the similarity
in the names troubled the young mountaineer. And when Royce and his
companion drew near once more, he listened eagerly.
The stoop-shouldered man was speaking and considerable impatience had
crept into his voice.
“It is unreasonable and ungenerous,” declared he, “to blame the boy for
something that is perhaps entirely out of his control.”
“Didn’t he say he was sure this was the night?--didn’t he ask you to
call us together?” demanded Royce.
“He told me plainly that he was not sure; he merely said that this
would perhaps be the night, and that it would be as well to have
everybody ready. You are angry because we missed the opportunity to
take Adams; don’t lay everything to the lad’s discredit.”
“I will admit,” said Royce, “that there is something in what you say.
Of course he doesn’t know just when the members from Virginia are
to cross the ferry, and he can only notify us when he receives the
information. But I can’t get it out of my head that he could have used
more expedition in the Adams matter.”
“You are a natural born grumbler,” said the lean man. “I don’t
think it would be possible to please you, no matter what was done.
Young Prentiss did his best to get here in advance of the men from
Massachusetts; and he did arrive in advance, as you know.”
“But not far enough to be of any service, Mr. Dimisdale, as you know,”
insisted Royce, stubbornly.
The two men had paused and leaned their elbows upon the wall at no
greater distance than two yards from the spot where Nat was crouched.
“I know the general estimate placed upon the importance of these two
Adams’,” said Dimisdale.
“They are dangerous to the best interests of the crown,” declared
Royce. “They are of the type of men who lead the people astray by false
doctrines. The country will never be at peace while they are at large.
Did not the eldest of them--the one named Samuel--have the effrontery
to shake his fist in the face of an English governor and warn him that
British redcoats--our safeguards--must be removed from Boston. And all
because a few rebellious rascals had been shot in the streets for an
open defiance of the law!”
The indignation of the burly Tory as he conjured up this scene almost
made Nat laugh outright, but he stifled the impulse as Dimisdale began
to speak.
“Please allow me to finish,” said that gentleman. “When you interrupted
me I was about to show you that these two brothers are not the only
persons of consequence in this movement.”
“Go on,” said Royce, sullenly.
“The prospects of our intercepting the men from Virginia are good,”
said Dimisdale. “If we succeed, we will, beyond a doubt, have made as
important a capture, if not one of more importance, than the one you so
regret missing.”
“It will require a great deal to convince me of that,” remarked Royce,
with doubt plain in his voice.
“First,” said Dimisdale, impressively, “there will be Edward Pendleton,
one of the Virginia aristocrats, a man of fine distinction and
attainments, of many friendships and vast influence in his own colony
and far beyond to the southward.”
“I know that,” said the big man.
“Then there will be Patrick Henry, whose name has already gone across
the sea and whose tongue is as a flame in arousing rebellion among
the discontented. And last--but in my private opinion--standing head
and shoulders above them all--is one whom I consider to be the most
dangerous man of the period. His very silence up to this time makes him
all the more to be feared. His resolution is like granite, his talent
beyond dispute. I mean Colonel Washington, of Mount Vernon.”
What Royce thought of this estimate Nat never knew; for at that moment
there came the ring of hoofs in the darkness. Then a horseman dashed up
to the Chew House and threw himself from the saddle.
“Young Prentiss at last!” cried Royce.
“And come with news of importance, I’ll be bound,” echoed Dimisdale.
The two hurried away toward the spot where an eager group had gathered
about the newcomer; and Nat was left to his thoughts and the darkness.
“An attempt to capture the Virginia members of Congress,” breathed the
boy, his blood thrilling at the idea; “and to-night!”
He stared at the dim cluster of Tories who stood in the path before the
house listening to something that was being swiftly imparted to them by
the night rider.
“And it may succeed,” he said. “It is a thing so unsuspected that it
may succeed!”
As he watched he saw the group scatter. Horses were heard trampling
and jingling their equipment; then came the noise of men mounting and
calling to each other triumphantly. Finally the entire party rode down
the path and into the public road; some of them bore lanterns to light
their way, and in the dancing rays Nat saw eager, laughing faces, and
also the glint of steel. In the midst of them rode a boyish figure; it
was the bearer of the news, but Nat could not see his face, as it was
turned away, the boy being engaged in earnest talk with Dimisdale, who
rode beside him.
“Keep to the roads on the outskirts,” ordered Royce, who seemed to
command the cavalcade. “We might attract attention if we rode through
the city; and we can reach the lower ferry just as well.”