"Back on the main body! Fall back for help!"
The colonel and the men, who like me had been seized by surprise, sprang
back. Almost in a breath I had formed my resolution, and I ran, neither
forward nor back, but to one side. When I had taken a dozen quick steps,
I flung myself upon my face. As I did so, the second volley crashed over
my head, and was succeeded by yells of wrath and pain.
"At them, boys! At them!" shouted a loud voice that was not the English
colonel's. "Drive the bloody scoundrels off the earth!"
I doubted not that the voice belonged to the leader of the attacking
party. I arose and continued my flight. Behind me I heard the British
replying to the fire of the assailants, and the other noises of the
struggle. The shots and the shouts rose high. I knew that I was
following no noble course just then, that I was flying alike from the
force to which I pretended to belong, and from the force to which I
belonged in reality; but I saw nothing else to do, and I ran, while the
combat raged behind. I was in constant fear lest some sharpshooter of
either party should pick me off, but my luck was better than my hopes,
and no bullet pursued me in my flight.
When I thought myself well beyond the vortex of the combat, I dropped
among the bushes for breath and to see what was going on behind me. I
could not hear the cries so well now, but the rapid flashing of the guns
was proof enough that the attack was fierce and the resistance the same.
As I watched, my sense of shame increased. I ought to be there with the
Americans who were fighting so bravely. For a moment I was tempted to
steal around and endeavor to join them. But how could I fire upon the
men with whom I had been so friendly and who had looked upon me as one
of their own but ten minutes ago? I was no crawling spy. Then, again, I
was in full British uniform, and of course the patriots would shoot me
the moment they caught sight of me. Richly, too, would I deserve the
bullet. Again there was naught for me to do but to resort to that
patient waiting which I sometimes think is more effective in this world
than the hardest kind of work. And well it may be, too, for it is a more
trying task.
I could not tell how the battle was going. So far as the firing was
concerned, neither side seemed to advance or retreat. The flashes and
the shots increased in rapidity, and then both seemed to converge
rapidly towards a common centre. Of a sudden, at the very core of the
combat there was a tremendous burst of sound, a great stream of light
leaped up and then sank. The firing died away in a feeble crackle, and
then I knew that the battle was over. But which side had won was a
question made all the more perplexing to me by my inability to decide
upon a course of conduct until I could learn just what had happened.
As I listened, I heard a single shot off in the direction from which the
Americans had come. Then they had been beaten, after all. But at the
very moment my mind formed the conclusion, I heard another shot in the
neck of the valley up which the British had marched. Then the British
had been beaten. But my mind again corrected itself. The two shots
offset each other, and I returned to my original state of ignorance and
uncertainty.
My covert seemed secure, and, resorting again to patience, I determined
to lie there for a while and await the course of events. Perhaps I would
hear more shots, which would serve as a guide to me. But another
half-hour passed away, and I heard nothing. All the clouds had fled from
the face of the moon, and the night grew brighter. The world turned from
gray to silver, and the light slanted through the leaves. A lizard
rattled over a fallen trunk near me, and, saving his light motion, the
big earth seemed to be asleep. Readily could I have imagined that I was
some lone hunter in the peaceful woods, and that no sound of anger or
strife had ever been heard there. The silence and the silver light of
the moon falling over the forest, and even throwing streaks across my
own hands overpowered me. Though knowing full well that it was the
truth, I had to make an effort of the will to convince myself that the
attack, my flight, and the battle were facts. Then the rustling of the
lizard, though I could not see him, was company to me, and I hoped he
would not go away and leave me alone in that vast and heavy silence.
At last I fell to reasoning with myself. I called myself a coward, a
child, to be frightened thus of the dark, when I had faced guns; and by
and by this logic brought courage back. I knew I must take action of
some kind, and not die there until the day found me cowering like a fox
in the shelter of the woods. I had my sword at my side, and a loaded
pistol was thrust in my belt. In the hands of a brave man they should be
potent for defence.
Without further ado, I began my cautious journey. It was my purpose to
proceed through the pass into the second valley and find the Americans,
if still they were there. Then, if not too late, I would warn them of
the plan against them, that this was not merely the raid of a few
skirmishers, but a final attempt. Success looked doubtful. It depended
upon the fulfilment of two conditions: first, that the Americans had not
been entrapped already, and, second, that I should find them. Still, I
would try. I stopped and listened intently for the booming of guns and
other noises of conflict in the valley below, but no sound assailed my
ears. I renewed my advance, and practised a precaution which was of the
utmost necessity. For the present I scarce knew whether to consider
myself English or American, and in the event of falling in with either I
felt that I would like to make explanations before any action was taken
concerning me. I stood up under the shadow of the big trees and looked
around me. But there was naught that I could see. Englishmen and
Americans alike seemed to have vanished like a wisp of smoke before the
wind. Then with my hand on my pistol, I passed on from tree to tree,
stopping ofttimes to listen and to search the wood with my eyes for
sight of a skulking sharpshooter. Thus I proceeded towards the highest
point of the gorge. The crest once reached, I expected that I would
obtain a good view of the valley beyond, and thus be able to gather
knowledge for my journey.
As I advanced, my opinion that the wood was now wholly deserted was
confirmed. Victor and vanquished alike had vanished, I felt sure,
carrying with them the wounded and the dead too. After a bit, and when
almost at the crest, I came to an open space. I walked boldly across it,
although the moon's light fell in a flood upon it, and as I entered the
belt of trees on the farther side I saw the peak of a fur cap peeping
over a log not forty feet before me. It was a most unpleasant surprise,
this glimpse of the hidden sharpshooter; and, with the fear of his
bullet hot upon me, I sprang for the nearest tree and threw myself
behind it.
I was too quick for him, for the report of no rifle lent speed to my
flying heels, and I sank, empty of breath, but full of thanks, behind
the sheltering tree. Brief as had been my glimpse of that fur cap, I
knew it, or rather its kind. It was the distinguishing mark of Morgan's
Virginia Rangers, the deadliest sharpshooters in the world. I had seen
their fell work at Saratoga when we beleaguered the doomed British army,
where not a red-coat dared put his foot over the lines, for he knew it
would be the signal for the Virginia rifle to speak from tree or bush. I
do not like such work myself, but I acknowledge its great use.
Again I gave thanks for my presence of mind and agility of foot, for I
had no wish to be killed, and least of all by one of our own men.
I lay quite still until my pulses went down and my breath became longer.
I was fearful that the sentinel would attempt some movement, but a
cautious look reassured me. He could not leave his covert behind the log
for other shelter without my seeing him. It was true that I could not
leave the tree, but I did not feel much trouble because of that. I had
no desire to shoot him, while he, without doubt, would fire at me, if
the chance came to him, thinking me to be a British officer.
The tree grew on ground that was lower than the spot from which I had
seen the sentinel. In my present crouching position he was invisible to
me, and I raised myself carefully to my full height in order that I
might see him again. But even by standing on my toes I could see only
the fur tip of his cap. I could assure myself that he was still there,
but what he was preparing I knew not, nor could I ascertain. Yet I
doubted not that his muscles were ready strung to throw his rifle to the
shoulder and send a bullet into me the moment I stepped from behind the
tree. The unhappy part of my situation lay in the fact that he would
fire before I could make explanations, which would be a most
uncomfortable thing for me, and in all likelihood would make
explanations unnecessary, considering the deadly precision of these
Virginia sharpshooters. Confound them! why should they be so vigilant
concerning me, when there was a British army near by that stood in much
greater need of their watching? But it was not worth while to work
myself into a stew because I had got into a fix. The thing to do was to
get out of it.
After some deliberation, I concluded that I would hail my friend who was
yet an enemy, or at least in the position of one. I was afraid to shout
to him, for most likely, with his forest cunning, he would think it a
mere device to entrap him into an unwary action that would cost his
life. These wilderness men are not to be deluded in that manner.
However, there might be others lurking near, perhaps British and
Americans both, and either one or the other would take me for an enemy
and shoot me.
But at last I called in a loud whisper to the sentinel. I said that I
was a friend, though I came in the guise of an enemy. The whisper was
shrill and penetrating, and I was confident that it reached him, for the
distance was not great. But he made no sign. If he heard me he trusted
me not. I think there are times when we can become too cunning, too
suspicious. This I felt with a great conviction to be one of such times.
As a second experiment, I decided that I would expose my hat or a
portion of my uniform, in the hope that it would draw his fire. Then I
could rush upon him and shout my explanations at him before he could
reload his gun and shoot a second bullet at me. But this attempt was as
dire a failure as the whispering. He was too wary to be caught by such a
trick, with which he had doubtless been familiar for years.
I almost swore in my vexation at being stopped in such a manner. But
vexation soon gave way to deepening alarm. I could not retreat from the
tree without exposing myself to his fire, and there I was, a prisoner.
As I lay against the tree-trunk, sheltering myself from the
sharpshooter, a bullet fired by some one else might cut my life short at
any moment. I waited some minutes, and again I raised myself up and took
a peep. There he was, crouched behind his log, and still waiting for me.
He seemed scarce to have moved. I knew the illimitable patience of these
forest-bred men, the hours that they could spend waiting for their prey,
immovable like wooden images. I repeat that I had seen them at work at
Saratoga, and I knew their capabilities. I liked not the prospect, and I
had good reason for it.
The old chill, the old depression, which was born part of the night and
part of my situation, came upon me. I could do naught while my grim
sentinel lay in the path. I knew of no device that would tempt him to
action, to movement. I wearied my brain in the endeavor to think of some
way to form a treaty with him or to tell him who and what I was. At last
another plan suggested itself, I tore off a piece of the white facing of
my uniform, and, putting it on the end of my gun-barrel, thrust it out
as a sign of amity. I waved it about for full five minutes, but the
watcher heeded not; perchance he thought this too was a trick to draw
him from cover, and he would have none of it. Again I cursed excessive
caution and suspicion, but that did me no good, save to serve as some
slight relief to my feelings.
A strong wind sprang up, and the woods moved with it. The clouds came
again before the moon, and the color of trees and earth faded to an
ashen gray. The light became dimmer, and I felt cold, to the bones. Fear
resumed sway over me, and dry-lipped, I cursed my folly with bitter
curses.
But the shadows before the moon suggested one last plan to me, a plan
full of danger in the presence of the watchful sentinel, but like to
bring matters to a head. I unbuckled my sword and laid it upon the
ground behind the tree. I also removed everything else of my equipment
or uniform that might make a noise as I moved, and then crept from
behind the tree. I had heard how Indians could steal through the grass
with less noise than a lizard would make, and I had a belief that I
could imitate them, at least to some extent.
I felt in front of me with my hands, lest I should place the weight of
my body upon some stick that would snap with a sharp report. But there
was only the soft grass, and the faint rustle it made could not reach
the ears of the sentinel, no matter how keen of hearing or attentive he
might be. All the time I kept my eyes upon the log behind which he lay.
Each moment I trembled lest I should see a gun-barrel thrust over the
log and pointed at me. Then it was my purpose to spring quickly aside,
rush upon him, and cry out who I was.
But the threatening muzzle did not appear. I grew proud of my skill in
being able thus to steal upon one of these rangers, who know the forest
and all its tricks as the merchant knows his wares. Perchance I could
learn to equal them or to surpass them at their own chosen pursuits. I
even stopped to laugh inwardly at the surprise and chagrin this man
would show when I sprang over the log and dropped down beside him, and
he never suspecting, until then, that I was near. Of a truth, I thought,
and this time with a better grace, there could be an excess of caution
and suspicion.
When I had traversed about half the intervening space, I lay flat upon
my face and listened, but without taking my eyes off the particular
portion of the log over which I feared the gun-muzzle would appear. But
the watcher made no movement, nor could I hear a sound, save that of the
rising wind playing its dirge through the woods. Clearly I was doing my
work well. Bringing my muscles and nerves back to the acutest tension, I
crept on.
I must have been aided by luck as much as by skill, perhaps more, and I
made acknowledgment of it to myself, for never once did I make a false
movement with hand or foot. No twigs, no dry sticks, the breaking of
which would serve as an alarm, came in my way. All was as smooth and
easy as a silk-covered couch. Fortune seemed to look kindly upon me.
In two more minutes I had reached the log, and only its foot or two of
diameter lay between me and the sentinel. Complete success had attended
my efforts so far. It only remained for me to do one thing now, but that
was the most dangerous of all. I lay quite still for a moment or two,
drawing easy breaths. Then I drew in a long one, inhaling all the air my
lungs would hold. Stretching every muscle to its utmost tension, and
crying out, "I'm a friend! I'm a friend!" I sprang in one quick bound
over the log.
I alighted almost upon the ranger as he crouched against the fallen
trunk, the green of his hunting-shirt blending with the grass, and the
gray of his fur cap showing but faintly against the bark of the tree. As
I alighted by his side he moved not. His rifle, which was clutched in
both his hands, remained unraised. His head still rested against the
tree-trunk, though his eyes were wide open.
I put my hand upon him, and sprang back with a cry of affright that I
could not check.
The sentinel was dead and cold.