A CAPTURE
What was the matter with the fellow? Could he have sent for me merely to
ask that question, insisting on privacy? There must surely be some hidden
purpose behind this. Yet if so, there was no betrayal in the man's face.
His eyes had an angry gleam in them, and his words were shot at me in
deadly earnest.
"The lieutenant?" I repeated, not prepared for a direct reply. "Why, I
hardly know--curiosity largely."
He stared at me in manifest unbelief.
"What do you expect to gain by lying?" he exclaimed sullenly. "You saw
him, no doubt, or you would not have asked what you did."
"Certainly I saw him," more deeply puzzled than before at his insistence.
"That was what aroused my interest. He seemed such a mere lad as he rode
past, and later I heard his voice, the voice of a boy."
"Was that all?"
"All! What else could you suppose? It was dark, only a little gleam of
moon revealed outlines. I couldn't distinguish the face, but when he
failed to appear after the fight I remembered him, and was afraid he had
been hurt. Now I want to know what you mean. Who was the lad?"
He had seated himself on the stump, and was leaning forward, his face
hidden from the light of the fire.
"Well, go on then," he returned finally. "If that's all you saw of him
it's all right."
"No, it's not all right," I insisted, aroused by his peculiar actions.
"What is all this mystery about? You told me you didn't know the man."
"I said I hadn't seen him; that we joined Delavan after dark," he
corrected sharply. "But you needn't try to interview me, Major Lawrence,"
stiffening with anger, "for I haven't anything to say to a spy and leader
of guerillas."
"You requested this interview; however, if you are satisfied I am, and
you can return to your men. Shall I call the guard?"
He hesitated a moment, but whatever it was which had first inspired him
to question me, was too strong to be thrown aside.
"Did--did Mistress Mortimer help you escape from Philadelphia?" he asked
bluntly.
"That is entirely my affair. Why don't you ask the lady herself?"
"See here, damn you!" he burst out. "I haven't seen the lady. When I got
back to the dining-room she was gone, and then I was ordered out here.
But you knew you were being sought after, and I cannot imagine who else
told you."
"You do not exhibit very great faith in the lady--the daughter of a
loyalist."
He drew a quick breath, suddenly aware that he had gone too far.
"It is your sneaking spy methods, not the girl. She is innocent enough,
but I suspect you dragged the truth out of her. Now see here!" and his
voice took on the tone of a bully. "You are in power just now, but you
won't always be. You can't hold me prisoner; not with these ragamuffins.
They'll turn us loose as soon as they loot those wagons. I know how they
work in the Jerseys. But first I intend to tell you something it will be
worth your while to remember. Claire Mortimer is going to be my wife--my
wife. War is one thing, but if you interfere in my personal affairs
again, I am going to kill you."
"Indeed," smilingly. "Is Mistress Mortimer aware of the honor you are
according her?"
"She is aware of the engagement, if that is what you mean. It has been
understood since our childhood."
"Oh, I see; a family arrangement. Well, Grant, this is all very
interesting, but I am unable to conceive what I have to do with it. I met
Mistress Mortimer by accident, and then was fortunate enough to dance
with her once. 'Tis scarcely likely we shall ever meet again. The
daughter of a colonel of Queen's Rangers is not apt to come again into
contact with an officer of the Maryland Line. I don't know why you should
single me out in this matter. I don't even know the lady's brother."
"Her brother?"
"Yes, the family renegade; the twin brother on Lee's staff."
I could not perceive the expression of the man's face, but he was a long
while answering.
"Oh, yes. She told you about him?"
"It was mentioned. Would I know the boy from any resemblance to his
sister?"
"Y--yes, at least I should suppose so. You must have become very intimate
for her to have told you that. You see it--it is a family secret."
"Nothing for Tories to boast over, I should imagine. However, it came up
naturally enough while we spoke of the sufferings of the American army
during the winter. It is a sad thing the way this war has divided
families. Has Mistress Claire any Colonial sentiments?"
"How the devil do I know! She would not be likely to air them before me.
I don't know what fool trick you played on her last night, but she's on
the right side just the same."
"I think so, too."
His manner was so disagreeable that I instantly determined to have an
end. I had more important work before me than quarrelling with this
fellow, and, somehow, his claimed intimacy with Mistress Mortimer grated
upon me strangely.
"If that is all you requested an interview for, Captain Grant," I said
coldly, "I'll trouble you to return to your men."
I followed him closely back toward the fire, and neither spoke until we
reached the guard-lines. Then he turned his face toward me.
"Have you a party out after the lieutenant?"
"No; probably he ran into our horse guard across the creek. If not, the
three who are reported to have got away can do us no harm. Why are you so
interested?"
"That is my affair," he replied, insolently, and walked across the open
square, with shoulders squared.
Irritated that I had even condescended to question him, I turned back up
the road to where the men were yet busy about the wagons, spoke a few
words to Duval, he explaining to me the best route toward the river
crossing at Burlington, and then swung into the saddle and sent the black
forward to the crest of the ridge. The animal was restive, and hard to
control; I cast a single glance backward to where the blaze of the fires
lit up the busy figures below, and then plunged forward into the black
night, unable to see the road, but trusting the instincts of the horse.
I permitted the animal to go his own gait, and for a mile or more he kept
up a hot gallop, finally tiring to a trot. By this time my eyes had
accustomed themselves sufficiently to the gloom so as to dimly perceive
the outline of the highway, and the contour of the surrounding country.
It was not a thickly settled region, although we passed two houses, and
several cultivated fields, the latter unfenced. Duval had spoken of a
turn to the westward, but I perceived no branching of the road, and began
to wonder if we had not passed the spot during that first rush. So far as
I could judge from the few stars visible we were travelling almost due
north. However, I was certainly getting farther away from the British
lines, and could swing to the left at daylight. It made little difference
where I struck the Delaware; every mile north added to my safety.
The silence of the night, the dull monotony of the landscape, caused my
mind to drift backward over the rapidly occurring events of the past two
days. They all seemed natural enough--merely such a series of adventure
as could occur to any one between the lines of two contending
armies,--and yet a trail of mystery seemed to run through it all,
becoming more and more perplexing. Why should Claire Mortimer have saved
me from capture? What could have caused her so suddenly to array herself
against those who were nearest her in life, to assist a mere stranger?
Who was the girl? Were those few words spoken to me the truth, or were
they intended to deceive? I could scarcely believe the last possible, for
she could have no object in leading me astray. The dividing of families
was nothing new; the very fact that she possessed a brother in arms with
the Colonies was evidence that the younger blood was arrayed against the
King. As to her engagement with Grant I scarcely gave that a second
thought, for I knew she despised him, and was of too determined a
character to surrender at the will of others. She might permit him to
suppose she was compliant, for some object of her own, but there would
surely be an hour of rebellion.
The memory of her arose clearly before me--the smile in those frank blue
eyes, the proud poise of the head, the banter of the soft voice, and the
words spoken. While she had said nothing convincing--merely an expression
of womanly sympathy for the sufferings of the patriot army--yet I could
not drive away the impression left that she was desirous that final
victory perch upon our banners. Otherwise why should she have championed
me, aided my escape, realizing, as she did, my mission in Philadelphia? I
felt a sudden determination to learn the truth, to meet with her again
under pleasanter circumstances. There was but one way in which this might
be accomplished. I would seek out the brother on Lee's staff, the moment
duty would permit. The way of accomplishment appeared to be so clear, so
easy, that I ceased to dream, and began to plan. My horse had fallen into
a long, swinging lope, bearing us forward rapidly. The moon had
disappeared, but the sky was glittering with stars, and I could
distinguish the main features of the country traversed. I was on the
summit of a slight ridge, but the road swerved to the right, leading down
into a broad valley. There were no signs of habitations, until we rounded
the edge of a small grove, and came suddenly upon a little village of a
dozen houses on either side the highway. These were wrapped in darkness,
apparently deserted, shapeless appearing structures, although I thought
one had the appearance of a tavern, and another seemed a store. There was
a well in front of this last, and water sparkled in a log trough beside
it. My horse stopped, burying his nostrils in the water, and, suddenly
made aware of my own thirst, I swung, down from the saddle. My hands were
upon the well-rope when, without warning, I was gripped from behind, and
flung down into the dirt of the road. I made desperate effort to break
away, but two men held me, one with knee pressed into my chest, the other
uplifting the butt of a pistol over my head. There was not a word spoken,
but I could see they were in uniform, although the fellow kneeling on me
had the features and long black hair of an Indian. My horse started to
bolt, but his rein was gripped, and then a third figure, mounted, rode
into the range of my vision.
"Search him for weapons, Tonepah," said a boyish voice briefly. "There
are pistols in the saddle holsters, but he may have others. Then tie him
up as quick as you can."
There was no mistaking my captors--the young dragoon lieutenant, and the
three who had escaped with him. But why had they ridden in this
direction? What object could they have in thus attacking me? They
afforded me little opportunity for solving these problems. Had I been a
bale of tobacco I could not have been treated with less ceremony, the
white man unclasping my belt, while the Indian, with a grunt, flung me
over on my face, and began binding hands and feet. I kicked him once,
sending him tumbling backward, but he only came back silently, with more
cruel twist of the rope, while the boy laughed, bending over his horse's
neck.
"Hoist him up on the black, lads," he said shortly, reining back out of
the way. "Delavan's horse, isn't it? Yes, tie his feet underneath, and
one of you keep a hand on the reins. Peter, you and Cass ride with him. I
want Tonepah with me. All ready? We'll take the east road."
Some one struck the horse, and he plunged forward, swerving sharply to
the right in response to the strong hand on his bit. I swayed in the
saddle, but the bonds held, and we went loping forward into the night.