"You are--you are--" he gasped.
"You have divined it, Sir William," replied the man. "I am Captain
William Wildfoot, captain of rangers in the Continental service. Your
guest, if you please, and I must warn you and your assistant not to
shout for help, or my men will shoot you instantly. The young
lieutenants in the front room, as you can see for yourself, will keep
very quiet."
What I wished most of all at that moment was to see the man's face. His
effrontery, his astonishing recklessness, inspired me with the deepest
curiosity. I thought that Marcel and I had shown considerable
presumption, but we were children, raw beginners, compared with this
man.
"What do you want?" asked Sir William, at last.
"First, that you and your assistant put your hands upon the table, or
else I shall have to bind you," replied Wildfoot.
Sir William frowned and choked again; but there was no recourse, and he
and Vivian both laid their empty hands upon the table.
"That is better," said Wildfoot, in a pleased tone; "I know that it is
undignified in you, but the good of our service demands it. And now for
serious talk. I came to show you, Sir William, the insecurity of your
position, and the great resources of the patriots."
"I must say," replied Sir William, "that I never before saw a man so
anxious to give his side of the argument."
"Yes," replied Wildfoot, "I have been at some trouble and risk to do
so."
I saw a faint gleam of humor appear in the eyes of Sir William, and I
inferred that the quality of geniality or good fellowship in him, which
perhaps made him such a poor soldier, was rising to the surface. He
seemed to appreciate, to a slight degree at least, the humor of the
situation. His eye suddenly sought mine, and then I distinctly saw a
trace of amusement mingling with his perplexed and annoyed expression.
"You seem to have made sure of the attention of Lieutenant Melville and
Lieutenant Graves," he said.
"I have no doubt that they can maintain their interest," replied
Wildfoot, "and their present position is only temporary."
"You say that you came to show me the strength and resources of the
colonists. Will you tell me how this is so?" asked Sir William.
"That I am here is the proof of it."
"It is true that you are here, but I have an idea, Captain Wildfoot,
that you will not go away again."
"Why not?"
"I am hospitable. We need you. Philadelphia needs you."
"I know it, and so I shall come back again."
"No, we wish you to stay with us now."
I should have laughed at this point had not the gag been in my mouth,
not at the conversation of Sir William and Wildfoot, but at the funny
look on the face of Graves. He had a great sense of dignity and
aristocratic importance, and it was hurt by the sudden intrusion of
Wildfoot. I said: "Never mind, Graves, it will soon be over," but the
words stopped short against that gag, and he did not hear them. I did
not even hear them myself. Vivian, on the contrary, was bearing himself
like a gentleman. He sat perfectly still, with his eyes either on Sir
William or Wildfoot, and so far as I could see, his face was without
expression. The three men who accompanied Wildfoot remained standing,
but motionless, each with a cocked pistol in his hand. One stood with
his face turned towards me, but every feature was hidden by a thick,
bushy, black beard.
"So I take it, that you have done this thing merely in a spirit of
bravado," said Sir William, "and I wish you to understand, Captain
Wildfoot, that I thoroughly appreciate your daring. I could wish that
you were one of us; in the king's service you would be a colonel at
least, and not a mere rebel captain; moreover, your neck would be in no
danger."
"But I would be colonel in a losing cause," replied Wildfoot, "and to
tell the truth, Sir William, I enjoy my captaincy among the rebels, as
you call them, much more than any man enjoys his colonelcy among the
king's men. No, Sir William, I am happy where I am; then why seek
unhappiness elsewhere?"
"Are you quite sure that you are happy where you are?"
"Quite sure."
"Then it is not worth while to attempt persuasion; but to return to
another point, Captain Wildfoot, we value men of your spirit and daring
too much to give them up when they come once among us. We must even
detain you by other means than persuasion."
"I thank you for the honor, Sir William," said Wildfoot, with a grateful
inflection, "but I had formed another plan, somewhat different in manner
but similar in the result that you mention."
"May I ask just what you mean?"
"It is not necessary for us to be separated under my plan."
"I do not understand yet."
"I had thought, Sir William, of taking you with me when I left
Philadelphia."
The deep red flushed Sir William's swarthy face again. My amazement at
Wildfoot's presumption increased, but I remembered the case of the
English general Prescott, who had been kidnapped in Rhode Island by the
daring American captain, Barton.
"Do you mean that you would carry me off as a prisoner?" asked Sir
William.
"Such was my intention, if you will pardon the rudeness," replied
Wildfoot, humbly. "And if you will excuse me again, Sir William, we must
hurry."
I saw Vivian suddenly lean over in his chair, throw out his arms, and
sweep from the table the candles, extinguishing them instantly, while
Graves, with a single strong puff of his breath, blew out the one in
front of us. The rooms were plunged into darkness, and what had seemed
comedy before, became tragedy, especially for Graves and me, bound as we
were to the table and powerless to cry out. I heard the quick, heavy
tread of feet, and the crack of a pistol shot, the flash of the powder
casting for a moment a fantastic light by which I saw rapidly moving
figures, and then the sound of shattering glass and another shot.
I do not think that I breathed for a minute or two. The next room, with
the darkness, the pistol shots, the occasional flashes of light and the
trampling feet, furnished every evidence of a deadly struggle, and at
any moment a pistol ball might take me in the breast, while I sat there
bound to the table, powerless to help myself, and unable even to make
myself heard.
A man brushed suddenly past me, threw open the outer door, and shouted
to the guards, who were already crowding into the room. But the sounds
in the inner chamber ceased with great suddenness, and in a moment, a
flame flared up. It was Vivian relighting a candle. He was very pale,
and the blood was dripping from his left arm, which was limp by his
side. Save for himself, the room was empty. Broken glass from both
windows lay on the floor. Near the table was a large spot of blood.
"They escaped through the windows, Sir William," said Vivian, "but I
think that one has carried with him the mark of my bullet."
"And you have the mark of his," replied Sir William, who was at the
outer door. "One of you men run for a surgeon at once. I owe too much to
you, Vivian, to forget this."
Then he began to give hasty orders for the pursuit of Wildfoot and his
men. All the anger and chagrin which he had concealed so well in their
presence surged up.
"They shall be caught! They shall be caught!" he cried. "I will give a
hundred guineas myself to the man who first lays hands on this Wildfoot.
Send the alarm to all the pickets, and permit nobody to leave
Philadelphia on any pretext whatever!"
He continued his orders, and messengers rushed with them to the
outposts, impressed by the anger and emphasis of the commander-in-chief
which would permit no delay. Two or three minutes passed thus, and the
fierce mental exertion seemed to calm Sir William. More candles had been
lighted, and looking about the room, he saw Graves and me still
motionless and confronting each other across the table, as silent as
sphinxes.
"What, are you bound?" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you call for help?"
And we were yet silent.
He stared at us in surprise, and then he burst into laughter. I think it
was partly relief from the nervous strain that made him laugh.
"I have heard often," he said, "that silence is a virtue, but this seems
to me to be carrying it to an extreme point."
He promptly gave orders to have the gags and thongs removed, and I
stretched my muscles with a feeling of deep relief. Wildfoot might be a
great partisan commander, but there was such a thing as pernicious
activity. I was a good American, and it was a grievous insult to be
bound and gagged by another good American.
"How did this happen?" asked Sir William.
"I do not know," I replied, glad to be able to speak again. "We were
bent over the table, busy with our writing, when we were seized from
behind. I cannot understand how they passed the sentinel unnoticed."
Sir William swore a frightful oath.
"The sentinel has disappeared," he said. "Undoubtedly he was in league
with them, perhaps an American whom we took to be a faithful Tory. We
will capture this Wildfoot before morning, and you shall help."
I exchanged a word or two with Vivian, and found that he was not badly
hurt. A small bone in his left arm was broken by the bullet, but it
would heal perfectly in a week or two. Then I hurried out with Sir
William and Graves.