WITH MINUTE MEN
I must have slept very heavily, the sleep of utter exhaustion, for I
awoke with my mind clear and body rested. The door of the shop remained
wide open, and Farrell sat there, his eyes upon the road without, an open
book upon his knees. As I moved slightly he instantly turned his face
toward me.
"I began to fear I should have to arouse you, Major," he said, coming
within. "You have slept soundly for six hours, an' we must be off
presently. First, however, we will have a bite to eat."
He began to prepare the meal, while I bathed my face.
"I was very tired," I explained, "but now am ready for any service. What
has occurred since I lay down?"
"Very little; Duval stopped a moment to report, an' two of my couriers
rode past this way. We are going to have a goodly sized gathering
to-night, an' from all I hear will need every rifle. Grant's purpose is,
as I supposed, to guard the forage train into Philadelphia. He expects to
meet them somewhere between Fellowship and Mount Laurel, an' the chances
are we shall have to fight both detachments. But fall to, man, an' we can
discuss all this as we eat."
He talked freely enough while we remained there, but conversation veered
to the book he had been reading, and I learned little of his plans,
except that he relied upon surprise, and swiftness of movement to
overcome the decided advantage of numbers. After we mounted and rode
away, scarcely a word was exchanged between us. I recall asking a
question or two, but his answers did not encourage any attempt at
probing, and I consequently fell silent, urging my horse in the effort to
keep pace with his heavier mount. We rode straight across the country,
avoiding the roads, and keeping under cover as much as possible, taking
advantage of every depression of the surface. Farrell knew every inch of
the way, and his watchful eyes scanned the summit of the ridges with
constant vigilance. Just before dusk we overtook a dozen horsemen in the
breaks of a creek bottom, roughly dressed fellows, heavily armed, riding
in the same direction as ourselves, and, after the exchange of a word or
two, the whole party of us jogged along together. Others straggled in,
singly, or by small groups, as darkness closed about, until we formed
quite a respectable company. It was rather a silent, weird procession,
scarcely a word being spoken, and no sound heard, other than the dull
reverberation of unshod hoofs on the soft turf. To me, glancing back from
where I held position beside Farrell, they seemed like spectral figures,
with no rattle of accoutrements, no glimmer of steel, no semblance of
uniform. Yet my heart warmed to the knowledge that these were no holiday
warriors, but grim fighting men. I had seen the faces, some boyish,
others graybeards, and had read in them all sternness of purpose. Each
hand gripped a brown rifle, and the fingers that met mine were rough and
hard from toil. No man among them had asked me a question; with Farrell's
simple statement there had come the hand-grip, the eyes looking straight
into my own; the silent acceptance of me as comrade. It all served to
drive into my consciousness the fact that these were men seeking nothing
for themselves, but ready to battle and die for the cause they had
espoused. They had left their ploughs in the furrow to strike a blow for
liberty.
It was an hour or more after dark when our compact little body of
horsemen rode down a gully into a broad creek bottom, and then advanced
through a fringe of trees to the edge of the stream. There was a young
moon in the sky yielding a spectral light, barely making those faces
nearest me visible. At the summit of the clay bank, shadowed by the
forest growth encircling them, were the others who had gathered at this
war rendezvous, the majority dismounted, holding their horses in
readiness for action. As we rode in among them neighbors clasped hands
silently, but the words exchanged were few. Farrell forced his horse
through the press toward where a tall figure sat stiff in the saddle, and
my own horse followed unguided.
"A goodly turn-out, Duval," he commented briefly. "What was the number
before we came?"
"Forty-seven rifles," the Lieutenant's voice nasal, and high pitched.
"The men from Orchard and Springdale are not in yet. How many arrived
with you?"
"Twenty; ample for our purpose, even if the others fail us. This is Major
Lawrence of the Maryland Line."
I shook his long, thin hand, marking the iron grip of the fingers.
"We'll introduce you to some typical Jersey fighting to-night, Major," he
said genially. "We have a style all our own."
"I had supposed I had witnessed all styles."
"We'll see; the difference is that every man among us has some outrage to
revenge. Our quarrel is a personal one against thieves and murderers.
What is the programme, Farrell?"
"To intercept Delavan's raiders. They will be along the main road within
the hour from all reports. He has a wagon train loaded with stuff
gathered up between Medford an' Mount Holly, together with a considerable
drove of cattle and some horses."
"And what force?"
"About fifty men originally, but reinforced this afternoon with as many
more to help guard the train into Philadelphia."
"Mounted?"
"The reinforcements were, but the original foragers were afoot; they were
Hessians; the others Grant's company of Queen's Rangers."
"Glory be to God!" exclaimed a voice near at hand. "Did ye hear that,
lads? It's Dutchmen and Tories we're against to-night. Be Gorry! I
wouldn't have missed the chance of this shindy fer the best farm in
Camden."
There was a low growl from the cluster of men, and an ominous movement of
bodies pressing closer. Duval laughed mirthlessly.
"The bloodhound takes the scent," he said grimly. "God help those poor
devils when we cut the leash, Farrell. Where do you propose meeting
them?"
"Across there in the bluffs," pointing, "where the road turns in between
the high clay banks. We'll leave our horses here, an' cross on foot. Is
that the right plan, boys?"
There was a murmur of acquiescence, a few questions, and then the silence
of approval. It was evident these minute men were under small discipline,
and their officers led only by force of character. Without orders the
horses were led away, tied securely in the black depths of the woods, and
the men came straggling back, rifles in hand, grouping themselves along
the edge of the stream. There was no attempt at military formation, but
Duval straightened them out so as to count the number present.
"Sixty-nine, all told," he announced briefly. "All right, boys, come on,
and keep your powder out of the water."
It was firm bottom, but the water rose above the waist, with sufficient
current so we had to brace against it in mid-stream. We trailed dripping
up the eastern bank, coming out upon a well-travelled road. A hundred
feet beyond was the cleft through the clay, and there Farrell halted us,
dividing the men into two parties. Under his orders they disappeared like
magic, the silent night engulfing them completely. The three of us,
Duval, Farrell, and myself, alone remained in the deserted road.
"Duval," said the blacksmith quietly, "you an' the Major feel your way
along to the top, an' discover what is happening. I'll stay here, an'
take care of the boys."
The road was a gradual rise, the clay packed hard under foot, but from
the summit we could look away for some distance over a level country,
dimly revealed under the new moon. There was nothing in sight, and no
sound disturbed the solitude. We sat down on a bunch of turf, rifles in
hand, to wait patiently, our eyes scanning the distance.
"Who are those fellows back there?" I questioned at last, made nervous by
the silence.
"The boys in the gulch? Jersey militiamen," he explained shortly. "You
see there's some of us that can't get away all the time, because of the
women and children, and the farm work. Besides, regular soldiering don't
just appeal to our sort. So we do our fighting round home in our own way.
However, the most of us manage to have a hand in the real thing once in a
while even at that. We were over at Germantown, and down at Brandywine.
Farrell's got a commission, but the rest of us are taking our chances.
It's neighbor against neighbor. Whatever we've got left has been held at
the point of the rifle. We're doing our share in this war, an' Washington
knows it. Over there to the east 'Red' Fagin, Old Man Kelly, an' their
gangs of Pine Robbers, are making the fields red; sometimes they get down
this far raiding the farms, but mostly, we're fighting foragers out of
Philadelphia, and they're not much better. Half the houses in this
country have been burned, and mercy isn't very common on either side.
Those lads yonder are not pretty soldiers to look at, but they're wolves
to fight, and hungry for it."
"They are called on whenever Farrell wishes?"
"Well, yes; those come who can. They're not always the same bunch. You
see Farrell covers quite a bit of country, with a lieutenant in each
section who is in touch with the neighbors there. I belong in Camden, and
don't go outside very often, but there is a sort of organization all the
way between here and New York. Whenever there is a big fight on, the most
of us get into it somehow. Washington counts on us in a pinch, but mostly
we're raiding or cutting off British supplies. Say, Major, isn't that
those fellows coming?"
He pointed into the east, in which direction the road ran, barely
revealed by the faint light of the moon for perhaps a hundred yards. I
looked eagerly, and could dimly distinguish a vague shadow on the summit
of a distant rise of land. The shadow moved, however, and as we both
stared in uncertainty, there came to our ears the far-off crack of a
whip. We drew farther back against the bank, pausing to make sure there
was no deception. One by one we could perceive those vague shadows
topping the rise and disappearing. I counted ten, convinced they were
covered wagons, and then the night wind brought to us the creaking of
wheels, and the sound of a man's voice. Duval's hand gripped my arm, and
to the signal we crept back beyond the crest, and then hurried down to
where Farrell had concealed his men. He was waiting us in the middle of
the road, his short broad figure almost laughable in the moon shadow.
"Well, are they coming?"
"Just over the crest," replied Duval brusquely. "I counted fifteen
wagons."
"Quite a convoy, an' worth fighting for. Take the left, Duval; Major,
come with me."
We drew aside under the protection of a boulder, from where we could see
clearly to the top of the ridge. Only for a moment was there silence, the
men all about us lying low in their coverts, breathless and intent. There
was a faint ripple of water to our rear where the stream ran, and a
rustle of leaves overhead in the slight breeze. A rabbit, or some stray
animal of the field, darted through the underbrush. Then we heard horses'
hoofs and the murmur of approaching voices.