"Folk at the Fish-House saw smoke on the Mayfield hills an hour since.
That is twice in three days!"
"Well," said I, "what of that?"
"It is best that the Broadalbin settlement should hear of it."
"Do you mean that it may have been an Indian signal?"
"It may have been. I did not see it--the forest cut our view."
The westering sun, shining over the Mayfield hills, turned the dust to
golden fog. Through it Cato's red coat glimmered, and the hunting-horn,
curving up over his bent back, struck out streams of blinding sparks.
Brass buttons on the patroon's broad coat-skirts twinkled like yellow
stars, and the spurs flashed on his quarter-gaiters as he pounded along
at a solid hand-gallop, hat crammed over his fat ears, pig-tail
a-bristle, and the blue coat on his enormous body white with dust.
In the renewed melody of the song-birds there was a hint of approaching
evening; shadows lengthened; the sunlight grew redder on the dusty road.
"The Broadalbin trail swings into the forest just ahead," said Dorothy,
pointing with her whip-stock. "See, there where they are drawing bridle.
But I mean to ride with you, nevertheless.... And I'll do it!"
The patroon was waiting for us when we came to the weather-beaten
finger-post:
"FONDA'S BUSH
4 MILES."
And Peter Van Horn had already ridden into the broad, soft wood-road,
when Dorothy, swinging her horse past him at a gallop, cried out, "I
want to go with them! Please let me!" And was gone like a deer, tearing
away down the leafy trail.
"Come back!" roared Sir Lupus, standing straight up in his ponderous
stirrups. "Come back, you little vixen! Am I to be obeyed, or am I not?
Baggage! Undutiful tree-cat! Dammy, she's off!"
He looked at me and smote his fat thigh with open hand.
"Did you ever see the like of her!" he chuckled, in his pride. "She's a
Dutch Varick for obstinacy, but the rest is Ormond--all Ormond. Ride on,
George, and tell those rebel fools at Fonda's Bush that they should be
hunting cover in the forts if folk at the Fish-House read that smoke
aright. Follow the Brandt-Meester if Dorothy slips you, and tell her
I'll birch her, big as she is, if she's not home by the new moon rise."
Then he dragged his hat over his mottled ears, grasped the bridle and
galloped on, followed by old Cato and his red coat and curly horn.
I had ridden a cautious mile on the dim, leafy trail ere I picked up Van
Horn, only to quit him. I had ridden full three before I caught sight of
Dorothy, sitting her gray horse, head at gaze in my direction.
"What in the world set you tearing off through the forest like that?" I
asked, laughing.
She turned her horse and we walked on, side by side.
"I wished to come," she said, simply. "The pleasures of this day must
end only with the night. Besides, I was burning to ask you if it is true
that you mean to stay here and serve with our militia?"
"I mean to stay," I said, slowly.
"And serve?"
"If they desire it."
"Why?" she asked, raising her bright eyes.