_An Exchange of Prisoners_
It was dark when two figures clad in Indian garb stole out of Madame
Desvouges's barn, and under cover of the shadows of evening were able
to get to the woods without discovery. Asa Peaslee, startlingly arrayed
in the red coat of a British soldier, met them. "We were so afraid
Victor or some one would come into the barn while we were getting
ready," said Marianne, in a hysterical whisper. "We were going to hide
in the hay if we heard any one, but as good luck had it, not a soul saw
us except the old white horse. Do you think we shall get through all
right?"
"As long as we are out of the way of the patrol, we needn't fear," Asa
told her. "We've got some weapons hid up here in the hollow, and we'd
ought to be able to defend ourselves against more than one man. If any
one must bite the dust, it will have to be the Britisher."
They followed along, one after the other, Indian fashion, through the
dark woods, Asa leading the way. It seemed a grewsome journey to
Marianne, used, though she was, to forest ways. When they had reached
a certain hollow tree, Asa stopped and drew from it a rifle, which he
handed to Mr. Reyburn. Then he gave Marianne a pistol, saying, "I guess
you know how to use that when occasion requires."
The girl in her deerskins, looking like a funny little Indian lad,
stuck the pistol in her belt and replied: "I don't believe I shall need
any one to show me how to aim straight, but I am not sure whether my
courage will hold out, if it is light enough to see the thing at which
I must shoot."
"I guess when it comes to a question of self-defence, you'll be all
right," Asa remarked,--an answer which did not add to Marianne's peace
of mind.
After keeping to the road for some time they struck into the road
leading to St. David's, and finally made the branch road, which would
take them to the Heights. At the angle of these roads stood the remnant
of the Hamilton house, battered by the American guns on the day of the
battle of Queenston. "There is a battery not far off," said Asa, under
his breath; "we must fight shy of that, and get down the cliffs as best
we can. You can manage it, I hope, sir."
"I managed to climb up, and I've no doubt I can climb down again,"
replied Mr. Reyburn, grimly; and the scramble down the steep cliffs
began,--an almost perpendicular climb, rendered possible only by the
presence of the trees and bushes which held fast to the crannies of the
rocks. Yet a dangerous way it was, for a misstep might hurl one into
the rapidly flowing river beneath. They were about halfway down, when
from the dimness came a voice: "Halt! Who goes there?" The snapping of
the branches had betrayed them.
"A friend," replied Asa. "Go on," he called as loudly as he dared to
his companions. "We're all right."
"Advance friend, and give the countersign," said the voice they had
heard.
"It's easy enough to say advance," said Asa, "but when a fellow has
lost his way in the dark, advancin' ain't so easy, but I'll give the
countersign all right, if you'll trust to the advancin' bein' down
hill."
There came a chuckle from the dimness. "Go ahead, I'll take the
countersign," returned the voice, and Asa proceeded to give it. He
stood still for a moment after, and muttered to himself, "I'd like
plaguey well to know if that fellow's above or below."
The voice of the patrol continued, "Just follow this light and you'll
be all right." A bit of a flame flashed out, and Asa, by its light saw
that by their circuitous route they had come very near to the battery.
He proceeded to scramble down the rocks as fast as possible. "Hold
there!" cried the patrol. "You're going the wrong way." Another flash
showed him Asa's red coat; and, seeing that the man had no idea of
advancing in his direction, the patrol called again, "Halt there, will
you!"
"Halt yourself!" shouted back Asa.
"You're trying to desert!" shouted the patrol, and his rifle rang out
upon the air, the bullet passing close to Asa's head. The pedler dodged
behind a tree, and gave an answering shot. There was the sound of a
falling body which came crashing through the bushes, rolling past the
pedler, and on down the cliff. Then there came a startled scream from
below, and in a moment Asa had scrambled down almost to the river,
to find upon a small abutment, Mr. Reyburn and Marianne, the latter
clinging to her father. Just above in the bushes lay the body of the
man who had rolled down the cliff, and who was stopped from going
farther by a thick clump of undergrowth.
"You've struck the exact spot," announced Asa. He gave a low whistle,
followed by a peculiar call, and over the edge of the jutting rock came
the head of the Indian, Fire-Eyes. He actively scrambled upon the place
where the others were standing, and waited orders.
A slight groan came from the man in the bushes. "Oh," cried Marianne,
"he is alive. Don't leave him here to die."
"We'll take him, too," returned Asa; "the more the merrier. This isn't
bad; two prisoners for our side. You've got the other fellow?" he asked
the Indian.
Fire-Eyes signified that he had, and then Marianne was lifted down into
the boat, rocking on the river. She was grasped by the sinewy arms of
the Indian squaw. Next came Mr. Reyburn, and then the wounded man; last
of all, Asa and the Indian.
"We've one more passenger than we bargained for," said Asa, "but I
guess we'll get over all right."
Marianne perceived that there was with them a man gagged and bound;
she wondered how he happened to be there. To this man Asa presently
addressed himself: "Soon's we git over, young man, we'll take that
bandage off your mouth. I dunno's there's anything I'd hate wuss'n
hevin' to keep my mouth shet," he added, chuckling softly.
The muffled oars made no sound, and at last they were safely landed,
the willing and the unwilling prisoners.
Marianne, half bewildered, stumbled along in the darkness. Once during
the silent walk the old squaw laid hold of the girl's wrist, and gave
a grunt of satisfaction as she felt the presence of the bracelet.
Marianne loosened the trinket and handed it to her. She received it
without a word, and stowed it away in her bosom. Fire-Eyes and the
little pedler bore the body of the wounded man, and Mr. Reyburn kept a
close grasp upon the shoulder of the other prisoner. Asa had removed
his coat and tossed it back into the boat, saying: "If we come across
any of our Yankee brethren, they shan't take me for a blamed Britisher.
I'm about as ready to keep out of the way of my own countrymen as I was
out of the enemy's. What you want to do, Mr. Reyburn, is to make tracks
for home as quick as you kin. We want to git this man somewhere and the
gal, too. You know the way better'n I do; s'pose you lead. Keep a tight
holt on your man. You kin trot him into camp in the morning if you want
to, but we ain't goin' to let him give us the slip to-night if we kin
help it." The warning was needed, for more than once the prisoner tried
to wrench himself from the grasp of his warder; and seeing this, the
old squaw lent her strength to the holding of the fellow.
It was a tedious and exhausting journey which at last brought them into
the road leading to the Reyburn farm. They had encountered no patrol on
this side, though the camp-fires gleamed along the foot of the cliffs.
The Indian's sharp eyes had been on the look-out before they landed,
and he had discovered the form of a picket to the right of them. The
boat was then directed a little farther up-stream, and being favored by
the darkness, they were able to get under shadow of some bushes before
the man on picket duty could come that way again.
"The dark's a good friend when you want to keep out of sight," said
Asa, "but I'm blest if I wouldn't like a little more light to travel
home by; I'd like to borry a camp-fire for a while."
Long and wearisome as the journey was, they came to the end of it at
last, and Marianne was glad enough to see the familiar landmarks, and
to hear the barking of old Towser, who came bounding out to meet them,
and after sniffing around, yelped with joy, and jumped against one and
another, nearly knocking Marianne down in his delight. His barking and
yelping brought some one to the window. "Shut up there, Towser! Who's
there?" came from a door hastily opened.
"Let us in, Jerusha," replied Mr. Reyburn. The man under his grasp made
a quick movement.
"No, you don't, my fine sir," Asa exclaimed. "We've got you this far
with some trouble to ourselves, and we'll keep you now."
"It is I, Walter Reyburn," said Mr. Reyburn in answer to the query from
the doorway. "I have some friends with me; you needn't be afraid to let
us all in."
There was an ejaculation of surprise, but the door opened wider, and
a lank figure with a candle peered out. "Bless my soul!" exclaimed
Jerusha, "you could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard
your voice, Mr. Reyburn. Which are you?" She peered around at the
various faces, holding the candle so it would fall on each in turn.
"I'm here, all right," replied Mr. Reyburn, grimly, "though I'm not
surprised that you don't recognize me in this rig. I'm a big Injun,
Jerusha," and he laughed. It was good to feel himself at liberty again.
To his laugh Jerusha responded by a dry cackle. "That's proof positive,
Mr. Reyburn. Come right in, sir." She held the door wide open, and they
passed through, Asa and the Indian, Fire-Eyes, depositing their burden
on the floor.
"Not there," exclaimed Marianne, "put him on the settle."
Jerusha stared at the little figure in deerskins. "Why, land sakes! if
that ain't Mary Anne. Why, I want to know!"
"Yes, it is I, you dear old Jerusha." She hugged the lank figure, in
her joy at seeing her again. "Here, Jerusha," she said, as soon as she
had finished her embrace, "help me to get our man here safely looked
after. I do not know how badly he is hurt."
"You go 'long," said Jerusha. "I'll attend to him. I guess I'm capable
of it."
Meantime Mr. Reyburn and the others were busy in securing the other
prisoner. "We'll take off this bandage, and make him comfortable,"
said Asa. He lifted the man's fur cap from his head, and untied the
handkerchief which covered his mouth. As the dim light of the candle
disclosed his features, Marianne gave a cry of surprise, "Father!
Father! It is Royal!"
"Wal, I'll be switched!" exclaimed Asa; "if that ain't what you might
call a coincidence, I'm a sinner. 'Tain't your brother?"
"It is, it is!" Marianne's arms were around him. "Oh, you poor Royal,
you've been bandaged up all this time and couldn't speak a word. If we
had only known who it was, do you suppose I would have allowed you to
come this distance without saying a word to me? Did you know us?"
"Not for some time," he replied doggedly.
"Mary Anne," came Jerusha's sharp voice. "This here man's in want of
more attention than your brother. I want you should go and get me some
bandages. There's some in the chist in the upper room."
"Is he badly hurt?" asked Marianne, as she took up the candle to light
her way.
"He's not so terrible hurt, as near as I kin make out; but he's been
bleedin' pretty freely, and he's faint. I'd like a little spirits for
him, Mr. Reyburn. Never mind, Mary Anne can get me some."
Marianne went off to obey directions. Meantime father and son faced
each other. "If I had known it was you, sir," said Mr. Reyburn, "I am
not so sure that I could have held you with a pistol in my other hand,
ready to blow your brains out if you got the best of me."
Royal made no reply, only stood with head thrown back and defiance
written on his face. His father turned on his heel. "We must keep a
watch over him," he said. "Where is Mark?"
"It is Royal Reyburn, your son, sir," said Jerusha, turning from the
man to whom she was ministering.
"I know it," was the answer, "but he is none the less a prisoner,
captured in the service of the enemy."
By this time Marianne had returned with the bottle of spirits and some
bandages. She was at no loss to find things in this her own home. She
leaned over the man lying white and still on the settle, and seeing him
for the first time she gave a little smothered cry, then she cried,
"Oh, father, Royal, it is Jack,--poor Jack Silverthorn! What a strange,
strange fatality! My brother and his best friend our prisoners. Yet I
am glad, glad that we are the ones to take them."
"Who is the man?" asked her father, coming up.
"It is Jack Silverthorn."
"A friend of yours?"
"Yes,--I mean, no. He is a friend of mine, and yet he is an enemy. I
know his sisters, and I am very fond of them; so for their sakes I am
glad their brother has fallen into our hands,--though, to be sure," she
added, "he wouldn't have been hurt but for us."
"The man shall be made as comfortable as possible," returned her
father. "Jerusha will not let him suffer for want of nursing. But
Marianne, my child, you must go to bed. You can leave the patient and
the rest of us to Jerusha's good graces."
"You must go to bed, too," said the girl, tenderly. "I do not see how
you have held out so bravely when you are not as strong as you ought to
be. You will remain here with us," she continued, turning to Asa and
the two Indians.
"I guess I know when I'm well off," Asa replied; "but these two friends
of mine say they must go back to-night. I'm well content to stay where
I am."
"Won't you stay?" Marianne asked the Indians. "You will be very
welcome."
But they thought it safer to return, as they had come, in the darkness,
although Mr. Reyburn added his invitation to Marianne's. They responded
gravely to all expressions of gratitude, assuring the family of their
friendship and promising to remember that the hospitality of the house
was open to them.
"We are quits, though," Asa told Fire-Eyes. "I don't forget that." But
the old squaw shook her head, and produced the bracelet as a token that
she felt there was still an obligation on her side. At last, after
many ceremonious speeches and an exchange of grave farewells, the two
Indians glided out into the night, leaving the others safe indoors.
It was strange, indeed, to Marianne to sleep under her own roof again,
brought thither through such peculiar circumstances. What a twist of
fortune's wheel, that had made her brother her father's prisoner, after
the latter had been in the hands of the enemy and had escaped. She
was not quite sure of Asa's part in the capture of her brother, and
determined to ask him about it. She did this later, but received no
satisfaction, though if the truth had been known, it was he who planned
that Royal should be taken by Fire-Eyes as the lad was returning from a
visit from the Silverthorn's. He thought it a huge joke, did Asa, but
he would not tell Marianne of it. After her thoughts had dwelt upon
Royal for a while, Marianne began thinking of Jack. She wondered if he
suffered much. Would he be very angry with them all when he learned how
he had been fired upon in the discharge of his duty? She was very sorry
for his sisters, who would be distressed over his condition. She cared
more for their feelings than for his, for they were innocent, and he
had been an enemy. She would like to get word to Kate and Sue. Perhaps
Asa would help her do that, and send a message to her mother, too.
The tears came to her eyes as she thought of her mother. She wondered
if she were lying wide awake, worrying over her beloved ones. Excited
as Marianne was, she was so weary in mind and body that she soon fell
asleep, the thought of her mother her last conscious one.