The last few sentences that passed between Maggie Brainerd and Golcher,
the Tory, were heard, not only by Aunt Maggie, but by the African
servant.
This was due to the fact that the renegade in his excitement forgot his
caution, besides which the servant took occasion to approach quite close
to the two.
A very brief space of time was occupied in the conversation, but brief
as it was, Gravity was resolved that it should end. He did not believe
the declaration of Golcher that he had a party of half-a-dozen Senecas
within call, though it was possible that he spoke the truth; but beyond
a doubt the savages were so numerous that a summons from the Tory would
bring a number to the spot.
When, therefore, Jake adjusted his lips for a signal, Gravity bounded
forward and caught him by the throat.
"Don't be in a hurry to let out a yawp; if dere's any hollerin' to be
done, I'll take charge of it."
Golcher was as helpless as a child in the vise-like grip of those iron
fingers. He not only was unable to speak, but he found it hard work to
breathe.
Dropping his gun, he threw up both hands in a frantic effort to loosen
the clutch of those fingers.
"Why, Gravity," said the horrified Maggie; "I'm afraid you will strangle
him."
"And I'm afraid I _won't_," replied the African, putting on a little
more pressure.
Gravity, however, had no intention of proceeding to extremities, though
he might have found justification in so doing. He regulated the pressure
of his powerful right hand so that his victim, by putting forth his best
efforts, was able to get enough breath to save himself.
"Young man," said Gravity, still holding him fast, "I don't think dis am
a healthy place for you; de best ting you can do am to leave a little
sooner dan possible."
"Let--me--let--me--go!" gurgled Golcher, still vainly trying to free
himself.
"I don't find dat I've got much use for you, so I'll let you off, but de
next time I lays hand onto you, you won't got off so easy, and bein' as
you am goin', I'll give you a boost."
To the delight of Aunt Peggy and the horror of Maggie Brainerd, Gravity
Gimp now wheeled the Tory around as though he were the smallest child,
and actually delivered a kick that lifted him clear of the ground.
Not only once, but a second and third time was the indignity repeated.
Then, with a fierce effort, Golcher wrenched himself free from the
terrible fingers on the back of his neck, and, plunging among the trees,
vanished.
"Dat ar might come handy," said Gravity, picking up the loaded musket
which the panic-stricken Tory had left behind him and handing it to Aunt
Peggy, who asked, with a shudder:
"Do you s'pose I would touch it?"
"Let me have it," said Maggie; "I consider it fortunate that we have
two guns with us."
It was a good thing, indeed, for Maggie Brainerd, like many of the brave
maidens of a hundred years ago, was an expert in handling the awkward
weapons of our Revolutionary sires. With this at her command, the
chances were she would be heard from before the rising of the morrow's
sun.
But, if Jake Golcher was a mild enemy before, it was certain he was now
an unrelenting one. He would neglect no effort to avenge himself upon
all for the indignity he had received.
The African understood this, and he lost no time in getting away from
the spot with the utmost speed.
It was now about five o'clock in the afternoon, but it was the eve of
the Fourth of July, and the days were among the longest in the year. It
would not be dark for three hours, and who could tell what might take
place in that brief period?
Extremely good fortune had attended our friends thus far, but it was not
reasonable to expect it to continue without break.
The Tory was scarcely out of sight when Gravity started on a trot down
the bank, with the others close behind him.
"Bus'ness hab got to be pushed on de jump," he said, by way of
explanation; "we ain't done wid dat chap yet."
It was scarcely a minute later when he uttered an exclamation of
thankfulness, and those directly behind saw him stoop down and, grasping
the prow of a small flat-boat or scow, draw it from beneath the
undergrowth and push it into the water.
Such craft are not managed by oars, and Gimp handed a long pole to
Maggie, saying:
"Use dat de best ye kin, and don't lose no time gittin' to de oder
shore."
"But what are _you_ going to do, Gravity?"
"I'se gwine wid you, but I'm afeard de boat won't hold us all, and I'll
hab to ride on de outside."
The Susquehanna is generally quite shallow along shore, and it was
necessary to push the scow several yards before the water was found deep
enough to float it with its load.
Gravity laid the two guns within the boat, and then, picking up the
_petite_ Maggie, hastily carried her the short distance and placed her
dry-shod within, where she immediately assumed control by means of the
pole, which was a dozen feet in length.
Aunt Peggy and Eva were deposited beside her, by which time the scow was
sunk within a few inches of the gunwales: had the African followed them,
it would have been swamped.
As it was, the faithful negro was assuming great risk, for, as have
stated, he could not swim a stroke; but the circumstances compelled such
a course, and he did not hesitate.
"You see, folks," said he, as he began shoving the craft out into the
river; "dat dis wessel won't carry any more passengers."
Just then he stepped into a hole, which threw him forward on his face
with a loud splash, his head going under and nearly strangling him. He
was thoughtful enough to let go the boat, and recovered himself with
considerable effort, after causing a slight scream from Eva, who was
afraid he was going to drown.
The freedom from immediate danger ended when the fugitives put out from
the shore.
The suddenness of the defeat, pursuit, and massacre at Wyoming prevented
anything like the use of boats by the fleeing patriots, who were beset
by a merciless foe.
Had the scow been near where the main stream of fugitives were rushing
into the river and striving to reach the opposite bank, the boat would
not have kept afloat for a minute. It not only would have been grasped
by a score of the fugitives, but it would have become the target for
a number of rifles, which could hardly have failed to kill all the
occupants.
The stream rapidly deepened, and by and by Gimp was up to his neck and
moving rather gingerly, with his two broad hands resting on the stern of
the boat.
Maggie Brainerd stood erect in the craft, pole in hand, and, bending
slightly as she pressed the support against the river bottom, held on
until it was almost beyond her reach, when she withdrew it, and,
reaching forward, placed the lower end against the bottom again, shoving
the awkward vessel with as much skill as the negro himself could have
shown.
Aunt Peggy, as trim and erect as ever, was seated near the prow, while
Eva nestled at her feet with her head in her lap. When they observed how
deep the scow sank in the water, naturally enough their fears were
withdrawn from the great calamity, and centered upon the one of
drowning.
The ancient lady glanced askance at the turbid current, while Eva turned
pale and shivered more than once, as she looked affrightedly at the
hungry river that seemed to be climbing slowly up the frail partition
which kept it away from the fugitives.
Suddenly the feet of Gravity failed to reach bottom, and, sinking down
until his ears and mouth were scarcely above the surface, he bore
slightly upon the support and began threshing the water with his feet,
so that at a distance the scow looked as if it had a steam screw at the
stern driving it forward.
This rather cumbersome means of propulsion really accomplished more than
would be supposed. Despite the fact that the African could not float
himself, he managed his pedal extremities with skill, and the boat was
quick to respond.