"I want that officer to find the False-Faces' council-fire and listen to
every word said, and report to me. I want him to use every endeavor to
find this woman, Magdalen Brant, and use every art to persuade her to
throw all her influence with the Onondagas, Oneidas, and Tuscaroras for
their strict neutrality in this coming war. The service I require may be
dangerous and may not. I do not know. Are you ready, Captain Ormond?"
"Ready, sir!" I said, steadily.
He drew a parchment from his breast-pocket and laid it in my hands. It
was my commission in the armies of the United States of America as
captain in the militia battalion of Morgan's regiment of riflemen, and
signed by our Governor, George Clinton.
"Do you accept this commission, Mr. Ormond?" he asked, regarding me
pleasantly.
"I do, sir."
Sir Lupus's family Bible lay on the window-sill; the General bade Mount
fetch it, and he did so. The General placed it before me, and I laid my
hand upon it, looking him in the face. Then, in a low voice, he
administered the oath, and I replied slowly but clearly, ending, "So
help me God," and kissed the Book.
"Sit down, sir," said the General; and when I was seated he told me how
the Continental Congress in July of 1775 had established three Indian
departments; how that he, as chief commissioner of this Northern
department, which included the Six Nations of the Iroquois confederacy,
had summoned the national council, first at German Flatts, then at
Albany; how he and the Reverend Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Dean had done all
that could be done to keep the Iroquois neutral, but that they had not
fully prevailed against the counsels of Guy Johnson and Brant, though
the venerable chief of the Mohawk upper castle had seemed inclined to
neutrality. He told me of General Herkimer's useless conference with
Brant at Unadilla, where that chief had declared that "The King of
England's belts were still lodged with the Mohawks, and that the Mohawks
could not violate their pledges."
"I think we have lost the Mohawks," said the General, thoughtfully.
"Perhaps also the Senecas and Cayugas; for this she-devil, Catrine
Montour, is a Huron-Seneca, and her nation will follow her. But, if we
can hold the three other nations back, it will be a vast gain to our
cause--not that I desire or would permit them to do battle for me,
though our Congress has decided to enlist such Indians as wish to serve;
but because there might be some thousand warriors the less to hang on
our flanks and do the dreadful work among the people of this country
which these people so justly fear."
He rose, nodding to me, and I followed him to the door.
"Now," he said, "you know what you are to do."
"When shall I set out, sir?" I asked.
He smiled, saying, "I shall give you no instructions, Captain Ormond; I
shall only concern myself with results."
"May I take with me whom I please?"
"Certainly, sir."
I looked at Mount, who had been standing motionless by the door, an
attentive spectator.
"I will take the rifleman Mount," I said, "unless he is detailed for
other service--"
"Take him, Mr. Ormond. When do you wish to start? I ask it because there
is a gentleman at Broadalbin who has news for you, and you must pass
that way."
"May I ask who that is?" I inquired, respectfully.
"The gentleman is Sir George Covert, captain on my personal staff, and
now under your orders."
"I shall set out to-night, sir," I said, abruptly; then stepped back to
let him pass me into the hallway beyond.
"Saddle my mare and make every preparation," I said to Mount. "When you
are ready lead the horses to the stockade gate.... How long will
you take?"
"An hour, sir, for rubbing down, saddling, and packing fodder,
ammunition, and provisions."
"Very well," I said, soberly, and walked out to the long drawing-room,
where the company had taken chairs and were all whispering and watching
a green baize curtain which somebody had hung across the farther end
of the room.
"Charades and pictures," whispered Cecile, at my elbow. "I guessed two,
and Mr. Clavarack says it was wonderful."
"It certainly was," I said, gravely. "Where is Ruyven? Oh, sitting with
Miss Haldimand? Cecile, would you ask Miss Haldimand's indulgence for a
few moments? I must speak to Sir Lupus and to you and Ruyven."
I stepped back of the rows of chairs to where Sir Lupus sat in his great
arm-chair by the doorway; and in another moment Cecile and Ruyven came
up, the latter polite but scarcely pleased to be torn away from his
first inamorata.
"Sir Lupus, and you, Cecile and Ruyven," I said, in a low voice, "I am
going on a little journey, and shall be absent for a few days, perhaps
longer. I wish to take this opportunity to say good-bye, and to thank
you all for your great kindness to me."
"Where the devil are you going?" snapped Sir Lupus.
"I am not at liberty to say, sir; perhaps General Schuyler may tell
you."
The patroon looked up at me sorrowfully. "George! George!" he said, "has
it touched us already?"
"Yes, sir," I muttered.
"What?" whispered Cecile.
"Father means the war. Our cousin Ormond is going to the war," exclaimed
Ruyven, softly.
There was a pause; then Cecile flung both arms around my neck and kissed
me in choking silence. The patroon's great, fat hand sought mine and
held it; Ruyven placed his arm about my shoulder. Never had I imagined
that I could love these kinsmen of mine so dearly.
"There's always a bed for you here; remember that, my lad," growled the
patroon.
"Take me, too," sniffed Ruyven.
"Eh! What?" cried the patroon. "I'll take you; oh yes--over my knee, you
impudent puppy! Let me catch you sneaking off to this war and I'll--"
Ruyven relapsed into silence, staring at me in troubled fascination.
"The house is yours, George," grunted the patroon. "Help yourself to
what you need for your journey."
"Thank you, sir; say good-bye to the children, kiss them all for me,
Cecile. And don't run away and get married until I come back."
A stifled snivel was my answer.
Then into the room shuffled old Cato, and began to extinguish the
candles; and I saw the green curtain twitch, and everybody
whispered "Ah-h!"
General Schuyler arose in the dim light when the last candle was blown
out. "You are to guess the title of this picture!" he said, in his even,
pleasant voice. "It is a famous picture, familiar to all present, I
think, and celebrated in the Old World as well as in the New.... Draw
the curtain, Cato!"
Suddenly the curtain parted, and there stood the living, breathing
figure of the "Maid-at-Arms." Her thick, gold hair clouded her cheeks,
her eyes, blue as wood-violets, looked out sweetly from the shadowy
background, her armor glittered.
A stillness fell over the dark room; slowly the green curtains closed;
the figure vanished.
There was a roar of excited applause in my ears as I stumbled forward
through the darkness, groping my way towards the dim gun-room through
which she must pass to regain her chamber by the narrow stairway which
led to the attic.
She was not there; I waited a moment, listening in the darkness, and
presently I heard, somewhere overhead, a faint ringing sound and the
deadened clash of armed steps on the garret floor.
"Dorothy!" I called.
The steps ceased, and I mounted the steep stairway and came out into the
garret, and saw her standing there, her armor outlined against the
window and the pale starlight streaming over her steel shoulder-pieces.
I shall never forget her as she stood looking at me, her steel-clad
figure half buried in the darkness, yet dimly apparent in its youthful
symmetry where the starlight fell on the curve of cuisse and greave,
glimmering on the inlaid gorget with an unearthly light, and stirring
pale sparks like fire-flies tangled in her hair.
"Did I please you?" she whispered. "Did I not surprise you? Cato scoured
the armor for me; it is the same armor she wore, they say--the
Maid-at-Arms. And it fits me like my leather clothes, limb and body.
Hark!... They are applauding yet! But I do not mean to spoil the magic
picture by a senseless repetition.... And some are sure to say a ghost
appeared.... Why are you so silent?... Did I not please you?"
She flung casque and sword on the floor, cleared her white forehead from
its tumbled veil of hair; then bent nearer, scanning my eyes closely.
"Is aught amiss?" she asked, under her breath.
I turned and slowly traversed the upper hallway to her chamber door, she
walking beside me in silence, striving to read my face.
"Let your maids disarm you," I whispered; "then dress and tap at my
door. I shall be waiting."
"Tell me now, cousin."
"No; dress first."
"It will take too long to do my hair. Oh, tell me! You have frightened
me."
"It is nothing to frighten you," I said. "Put off your armor and come to
my door. Will you promise?"
"Ye-es," she faltered; and I turned and hastened to my own chamber, to
prepare for the business which lay before me.
I dressed rapidly, my thoughts in a whirl; but I had scarcely slung
powder-horn and pouch, and belted in my hunting-shirt, when there came a
rapping at the door, and I opened it and stepped out into the
dim hallway.
At sight of me she understood, and turned quite white, standing there in
her boudoir-robe of China silk, her heavy, burnished hair in two loose
braids to her waist.
In silence I lifted her listless hands and kissed the fingers, then the
cold wrists and palms. And I saw the faint circlet of the ghost-ring on
her bridal finger, and touched it with my lips.
Then, as I stepped past her, she gave a low cry, hiding her face in her
hands, and leaned back against the wall, quivering from head to foot.
"Don't go!" she sobbed. "Don't go--don't go!"
And because I durst not, for her own sake, turn or listen, I reeled on,
seeing nothing, her faint cry ringing in my ears, until darkness and a
cold wind struck me in the face, and I saw horses waiting, black in the
starlight, and the gigantic form of a man at their heads, fringed cape
blowing in the wind.
"All ready?" I gasped.
"All is ready and the night fine! We ride by Broadalbin, I think....
Whoa! back up! you long-eared ass! D'ye think to smell a Mohawk?... Or
is it your comrades on the picket-rope that bedevil you?... Look at
the troop-horses, sir, all a-rolling on their backs in the sand, four
hoofs waving in the air. It's easier on yon sentry than when they're all
a-squealin' and a-bitin'--This way, sir. We swing by the bush and pick
up the Iroquois trail 'twixt the Hollow and Mayfield."