Down the river Erskine rode with a sad heart. At the place where he had
fought with Grey he pulled Firefly to a sudden halt. There was the
boundary of Red Oaks and there started a desolation that ran as far as
his eye could reach. Red Oaks had not been spared, and he put Firefly to
a fast gallop, with eyes strained far ahead and his heart beating with
agonized foreboding and savage rage. Soon over a distant clump of trees
he could see the chimneys of Barbara's home--his home, he thought
helplessly--and perhaps those chimneys were all that was left. And then
he saw the roof and the upper windows and the cap of the big columns
unharmed, untouched, and he pulled Firefly in again, with overwhelming
relief, and wondered at the miracle. Again he started and again pulled
in when he caught sight of three horses hitched near the stiles. Turning
quickly from the road, he hid Firefly in the underbrush. Very quietly he
slipped along the path by the river, and, pushing aside through the
rose-bushes, lay down where unseen he could peer through the closely
matted hedge. He had not long to wait. A white uniform issued from the
great hall door and another and another--and after them Barbara--smiling.
The boy's blood ran hot--smiling at her enemies. Two officers bowed,
Barbara courtesied, and they wheeled on their heels and descended the
steps. The third stayed behind a moment, bowed over her hand and kissed
it. The watcher's blood turned then to liquid fire. Great God, at what
price was that noble old house left standing? Grimly, swiftly Erskine
turned, sliding through the bushes like a snake to the edge of the road
along which they must pass. He would fight the three, for his life was
worth nothing now. He heard them laughing, talking at the stiles. He
heard them speak Barbara's name, and two seemed to be bantering the
third, whose answering laugh seemed acquiescent and triumphant. They
were coming now. The boy had his pistols out, primed and cocked. He was
rising on his knees, just about to leap to his feet and out into the
road, when he fell back into a startled, paralyzed, inactive heap.
Glimpsed through an opening in the bushes, the leading trooper in the
uniform of Tarleton's legion was none other than Dane Grey, and
Erskine's brain had worked quicker than his angry heart. This was a
mystery that must be solved before his pistols spoke. He rose crouching
as the troopers rode away. At the bend of the road he saw Grey turn with
a gallant sweep of his tricornered hat, and, swerving his head
cautiously, he saw Barbara answer with a wave of her handkerchief. If
Tarleton's men were around he would better leave Firefly where he was in
the woods for a while. A jay-bird gave out a flutelike note above his
head; Erskine never saw a jay-bird perched cockily on a branch that he
did not think of Grey; but Grey was brave--so, too, was a jay-bird. A
startled gasp behind him made him wheel, pistol once more in hand, to
find a negro, mouth wide open and staring at him from the road.
"Marse Erskine!" he gasped. It was Ephraim, the boy who had led
Barbara's white ponies out long, long ago, now a tall, muscular lad with
an ebony face and dazzling teeth. "Whut you doin' hyeh, suh? Whar' yo'
hoss? Gawd, I'se sutn'ly glad to see yuh." Erskine pointed to an oak.
"Right by that tree. Put him in the stable and feed him."
The negro shook his head.
"No, suh. I'll take de feed down to him. Too many redcoats messin' round
heah. You bettah go in de back way--dey might see yuh."
"How is Miss Barbara?"
The negro's eyes shifted.
"She's well. Yassuh, she's well as common."
"Wasn't one of those soldiers who just rode away Mr. Dane Grey?"
The negro hesitated.
"Yassuh."
"What's he doing in a British uniform?"
The boy shifted his great shoulders uneasily and looked aside.
"I don't know, suh--I don't know nuttin'."
Erskine knew he was lying, but respected his loyalty.
"Go tell Miss Barbara I'm here and then feed my horse."
"Yassuh."
Ephraim went swiftly and Erskine followed along the hedge and through
the rose-bushes to the kitchen door, where Barbara's faithful old Mammy
was waiting for him with a smile of welcome but with deep trouble in her
eyes.
"I done tol' Miss Barbary, suh. She's waitin' fer yuh in de hall."
Barbara, standing in the hall doorway, heard his step.
"Erskine!" she cried softly, and she came to meet him, with both hands
outstretched, and raised her lovely face to be kissed. "What are you
doing here?"
"I am on my way to join General Lafayette."
"But you will be captured. It is dangerous. The country is full of
British soldiers."
"So I know," Erskine said dryly.
"When did you get here?"
"Twenty minutes ago. I would not have been welcome just then. I waited
in the hedge. I saw you had company."
"Did you see them?" she faltered.
"I even recognized one of them." Barbara sank into a chair, her elbow on
one arm, her chin in her hand, her face turned, her eyes looking
outdoors. She said nothing, but the toe of her slipper began to tap the
floor gently. There was no further use for indirection or concealment.
"Barbara," Erskine said with some sternness, and his tone quickened the
tapping of the slipper and made her little mouth tighten, "what does all
this mean?"
"Did you see," she answered, without looking at him, "that the crops
were all destroyed and the cattle and horses were all gone?"
"Why did they spare the house?" The girl's bosom rose with one quick,
defiant intake of breath, and for a moment she held it.
"Dane Grey saved our home."
"How?"
"He had known Colonel Tarleton in London and had done something for him
over there."
"How did he get in communication with Colonel Tarleton when he was an
officer in the American army?" The girl would not answer.
"Was he taken prisoner?" Still she was silent, for the sarcasm in
Erskine's voice was angering her.
"He fought once under Benedict Arnold--perhaps he is fighting with him
now."
"No!" she cried hotly.
"Then he must be a----"
She did not allow him to utter the word.
"Why Mr. Grey is in British uniform is his secret--not mine."
"And why he is here is--yours."
"Exactly!" she flamed. "You are a soldier. Learn what you want to know
from him. You are my cousin, but you are going beyond the rights of
blood. I won't stand it--I won't stand it--from anybody."
"I don't understand you, Barbara--I don't know you. That last time it was
Grey, you--and now--" He paused and, in spite of herself, her eyes flashed
toward the door. Erskine saw it, drew himself erect, bowed and strode
straight out. Nor did the irony of the situation so much as cross his
mind--that he should be turned from his own home by the woman he loved
and to whom he had given that home. Nor did he look back--else he might
have seen her sink, sobbing, to the floor.
* * * * *
When he turned the corner of the house old Mammy and Ephraim were
waiting for him at the kitchen door.
"Get Firefly, Ephraim!" he said sharply.
"Yassuh!"
At the first sight of his face Mammy had caught her hands together at
her breast.
"You ain't gwine, Marse Erskine," she said tremulously. "You ain't gwine
away?"
"Yes, Mammy--I must."
"You an' Miss Barbary been quoilin', Marse Erskine--you been
quoilin'"--and without waiting for an answer she went on passionately:
"Ole Marse an' young Marse an' Marse Hugh done gone, de niggahs all
gone, an' nobody lef' but me an' Ephraim--nobody lef' but me an'
Ephraim--to give dat little chile one crumb o' comfort. Nobody come to de
house but de redcoats an' dat mean Dane Grey, an' ev'y time he come he
leave Miss Barbary cryin' her little heart out. 'Tain't Miss Barbary in
dar--hit's some other pusson. She ain't de same pusson--no, suh. An' lemme
tell yu--lemme tell yu--ef some o' de men folks doan come back heah
somehow an' look out fer dat little gal--she's a-gwine to run away wid
dat mean low-down man whut just rid away from heah in a white uniform."
She had startled Erskine now and she knew it.
"Dat man has got little Missus plum' witched, I tell ye--plum' witched.
Hit's jes like a snake wid a catbird."
"Men have to fight, Mammy----"
"I doan keer nothin' 'bout de war."
"I'd be captured if I stayed here----"
"All I keer 'bout is my chile in dar----"
"But we'll drive out the redcoats and the whitecoats and I'll come
straight here----"
"An' all de men folks leavin' her heah wid nobody but black Ephraim an'
her ole Mammy." The old woman stopped her fiery harangue to listen:
"Dar now, heah dat? My chile hollerin' fer her ole Mammy." She turned
her unwieldy body toward the faint cry that Erskine's heart heard better
than his ears, and Erskine hurried away.
"Ephraim," he said as he swung upon Firefly, "you and Mammy keep a close
watch, and if I'm needed here, come for me yourself and come fast."
"Yassuh. Marse Grey is sutn'ly up to some devilmint no which side he
fightin' fer. I got a gal oveh on the aige o' de Grey plantation an' she
tel' me dat Marse Dane Grey don't wear dat white uniform all de time."
"What's that--what's that?" asked Erskine.
"No, suh. She say he got an udder uniform, same as yose, an' he keeps it
at her uncle Sam's cabin an' she's seed him go dar in white an' come out
in our uniform, an' al'ays at night, Marse Erskine--al'ays at night."
The negro cocked his ear suddenly:
"Take to de woods quick, Marse Erskine. Horses comin' down the road."
But the sound of coming hoof-beats had reached the woodsman's ears some
seconds before the black man heard them, and already Erskine had wheeled
away. And Ephraim saw Firefly skim along the edge of a blackened meadow
behind its hedge of low trees.
"Gawd!" said the black boy, and he stood watching the road. A band of
white-coated troopers was coming in a cloud of dust, and at the head of
them rode Dane Grey.
"Has Captain Erskine Dale been here?" he demanded.
Ephraim had his own reason for being on the good side of the questioner,
and did not even hesitate.
"Yassuh--he jes' lef'! Dar he goes now!" With a curse Grey wheeled his
troopers. At that moment Firefly, with something like the waving flight
of a bluebird, was leaping the meadow fence into the woods. The black
boy looked after the troopers' dust.
"Gawd!" he said again, with a grin that showed every magnificent tooth
in his head. "Jest as well try to ketch a streak o' lightning." And
quite undisturbed he turned to tell the news to old Mammy.