THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
"WHAT'S wrong, Sarah? What is it? What is it?" said Tom excitedly, as he
drew near the almost breathless girl. "Has anything happened at the
house?"
"Oh, Tom!" was all that Sarah at first could say. The reaction from her
excitement and the swift pace at which she had been running had come,
and the frightened girl burst into a flood of tears.
Tom looked on in helpless amazement. Sarah was usually such a strong and
self-contained girl that her present distress was all the more
perplexing. He looked at her a moment, feeling how utterly unable he was
to comprehend the state of her feelings and how helpless he was to aid
or comfort her. Benzeor might be faced; and even Fenton, in spite of the
fear with which Tom regarded him, might be met; but a weeping girl was
entirely outside the realm of all his previous experiences, and he stood
leaning upon his gun, eager to do something to aid Sarah, and feeling a
deep sympathy for her as he silently watched her.
Perhaps his silence was the very best aid he could offer, for in a brief
time the resolute Sarah gained control of herself, and lifting her
tear-stained face to that of the troubled lad by her side she said, "Oh
Tom, they've killed Little Peter's mother!"
"What!" exclaimed Tom in amazement. "Killed her? You can't mean it! Who
killed her?"
"Yes, they shot her, and have carried off his father, too."
"I don't understand, Sarah," said Tom more quietly. "Tell me about it."
"Little Peter came over to our house just a little while ago to leave
the children, and he told us all about it. It seems, he was the lookout
yesterday down by the Hook and didn't get home till it was almost light
this morning.
"He said he went up to his room and laid down upon his bed, and must
have gone to sleep, but he was waked up by the sound of the voices of
men in the house. He jumped out of bed and listened, and pretty soon he
heard one of them tell his mother that she must hand over the money she
had hidden in a stocking up in the garret, and tell where his father
was.
"She refused to do either, and then Little Peter hurriedly dressed and
ran down the stairs, but some of the men just grabbed him and held him
fast so that he couldn't do anything to help his mother. He said the men
all had masks on their faces except Fenton, for he thinks it was
Fenton's band that did the work, and he was sure he recognized the
blacksmith."
"No doubt about that!" exclaimed Tom. "What did they do then?"
"They held his mother while some of them ran up into the garret, and
pretty soon one of them came back with the stocking. They made quite a
time over that, and Little Peter thought they wouldn't do anything more,
but it seems they didn't find as much money in the stocking as they
expected. Little Peter explained it to me by saying that his mother had
divided it, and had hidden a part in the garden back of the house and
left only a part in the stocking.
"For a little time they didn't suspect that, but wanted to know where
her husband was. Of course she didn't tell them. How could she, when he
wasn't there? Well, they searched the place high and low. They tore open
the feather beds, and broke down the walls in two or three places, but
they couldn't find Peter. Then they went out into the barns and searched
them, but not a trace of him could they find. They must have been pretty
angry by that time, for when they came back to the house they told her
they knew there must be more money than they had found in the stocking,
and she must tell them where it was.
"Just then one of the children called out that she knew where it was for
she had seen her mother dig a hole in the ground and put a bag of money
in it. Two of the men then took the child out into the garden and tried
to make her show them the place where the money was, but she must either
have forgotten or else did not know, for the men came back into the
house more angry than before, and told her mother that she must go with
them and show them the place.
"Of course she refused, and then Fenton raised his gun and told her he'd
give her till he could count five, to tell. She didn't say a word, and
when the blacksmith had counted four he stopped a minute to give her a
chance to speak. He waited, and as she only shook her head the outlaw
pulled the trigger and shot her in the breast."
"And killed her?" inquired Tom in a low voice.
"Yes, killed her. The bullet must have struck her heart, for Little
Peter said she fell dead. They threw the body on the bed and then they
turned upon Little Peter. He said he thought his turn had come then, but
at that very minute the guard they had stationed down by the road came
running into the house, and going up to Fenton whispered something in
his ear.
"Little Peter didn't know what it was, he said, but in a minute Fenton
turned to his men and gave them some directions, and they all stopped
and went out of the house, that is, all except two, who were looking
after Little Peter and the children.
"In almost no time Little Peter heard some one coming up the lane on
horseback and stop right before the kitchen door. He heard him jump off
from the horse, and after a pause of a minute the men all made a rush
out of the house. Pretty soon they came back, and Little Peter saw that
his own father was a prisoner in their hands.
"He said his father took on fearfully when he saw his wife dead, and
what the men had been doing, but in a minute they bound him hand and
foot, and put a gag in his mouth, and then he was as helpless as a baby
in their hands.
"Little Peter said he didn't know what was coming next. He thought
they'd torture him or his father into telling where the money was, or
would set fire to the house; but before they could do anything the guard
came running into the house again and called out that some one was
coming.
"They only stopped long enough to tie Little Peter to the post of the
very bed on which his mother was lying dead, and then they made a break
out of the house and took their horses and were off down the lane in no
time."
"How did you hear about it? How did Little Peter get away?" said Tom
slowly.
"Why, in a few minutes Indian John came into the house, and he set
Little Peter free. 'Twas lucky for him that he did, for Fenton might
have come back, you see."
"And Little Peter came over to your house with the children, then?"
"Yes, he brought them all over, and they're at our house now. But, oh
Tom, it's dreadful! dreadful! I'm so afraid they'll come to our place
next, and so I ran out here to get you. Come Tom! Come right away! They
may be there now!"
Tom hesitated, not knowing just what to do. He was only a boy, and knew
that alone he could do nothing against Fenton and his band. But the
appeal of Sarah and the unprotected condition of the children and her
mother moved him strongly, and his first impulse was to return with the
frightened girl.
"Sarah," said he abruptly, "where is your father?"
"Why, you know he went away this morning, and he hasn't come back yet.
He said he might not be back before to-morrow morning. We're all alone,
Tom, and you must come right away. Oh, it's awful!" And Sarah buried her
face in her hands again as she spoke.
It was almost upon Tom's lips to tell her what he knew of Benzeor. But
the misery of the weeping girl before him was even stronger than the
impression produced by the sad tale she had just related, and he could
not quite bring himself up to the point of telling her what he
suspected,--that her own father had been connected with the attack upon
Little Peter's home. But he had decided now as to the course of action
he must follow.
"Sarah," said he gently, "there isn't the least danger in the world that
your house will be attacked. I can't tell you how I know, but I know
it's so."
"But we're all alone, Tom! I don't know what you mean! We're as likely
to be attacked as any one. You must go back with me! We must go right
away, for they may be there now! Poor mother, she was so frightened that
she didn't want me to leave and come over here for you! Come! We must go
right back now!"
"Sarah, I'm never going into that house again. You can tell your father
that I've slept for the last time under his roof."
"Not going back with me?" said Sarah aghast, and looking up in surprise
as she spoke. "Not going back?" she repeated, as if she did not fully
understand what Tom had said.
"No, I'm not going back," said Tom firmly. "You know I've been thinking
a good while of leaving, and after what you've just told me I know the
time has come."
The color slowly faded from Sarah's face and a different expression came
into her eyes. Even her alarm was apparently forgotten for the moment,
and as Tom looked at her, her eyes seemed to snap and a sneer replaced
the look of sorrow.
"Tom Coward, you're afraid!" she said; "that's what's the trouble with
you. You're afraid, that's what you are! You'd rather leave mother and
me alone there with the children than run any risks of meeting the
blacksmith! I wouldn't have believed it, but my father was right. You're
a coward by nature as well as by name."
"Sarah"--began Tom, his face flushing at the words of the angry girl.
"Don't 'Sarah' me! I know you now! I never could have believed it,
never! But I've heard you with my own ears, and now I know it's true!
You're afraid! You're a coward, that's just what you are! Oh, you're
well named, you are! Very well, sir, it shall be as you say. Perhaps we
shall be better off without you than we would with you, for it would
only make another child for us to look after if you should come back!
I'll go back home and face Fenton and every one of his band myself! I'm
afraid, but I'm no coward!"
[Illustration: "TOM COWARD, YOU'RE AFRAID!"]
Turning abruptly away, after giving Tom a glance which he never forgot,
she started resolutely and swiftly back along the pathway which she had
followed in her flight to the ten-acre lot.
Tom looked after her in helpless amazement. Never before had he heard
such an outburst from the gentle and even-tempered Sarah, who had been
the leading spirit in Benzeor's household. The children had gone to her
with their troubles rather than to their mother, and Sarah had never
failed to have a word of comfort or of help for every one. Even Benzeor
himself had come to depend upon her judgment in many of his affairs, and
she had been as patient and gentle with him as she had been with the
troubled little ones.
And to Tom she had been the one true friend he had ever known. Somehow
she had always understood him, and from the days of their early
childhood it had always been a matter of pride to him that he was her
acknowledged champion and protector. Many a time, when he was a sturdy
little lad, had he taken her part against the tormenting boys in the
school. For her he had carved quaint and strange looking dolls out of
horse-chestnuts, and the childish Sarah had never failed to receive
them with many expressions of pleasure, and had lavished a wealth of
affection upon them which was almost as pleasing to Tom as to the little
mother herself. For her he had gathered the chestnuts in the autumn and
the bright colored flowers in the springtime; and when, with the passing
of the years, there had come to them both new feelings and new
interests, he still had shared with her all those dimly perceived
ambitions and longings which are ever present in the boyish heart when
it arrives at that position where it can look out upon the time when the
boy is to become a man.
Perhaps Tom had enjoyed her sympathy and interest the more because of
the loneliness of his own position. But Sarah never by word or act had
caused him to feel that he was only Benzeor Osburn's "bound boy," and
not truly one of the household.
Tom was thinking of some of these things as he watched the departing
girl, and, forgetting for the moment all the anger and shame which her
last words had aroused, he called aloud after her.
"Sarah! Sarah!" he shouted. "Wait a minute! Come back! Come back!"
Sarah apparently did not hear him, or heed him if she heard, and without
once turning her head or looking behind her soon disappeared in the
forest.
An impulse to follow her seized Tom, and he even ran a few steps after
her, but quickly stopped. How could he explain himself to her without
informing upon Benzeor? And then her sorrow would be harder for him to
bear than her present anger, hard as that was. No; all he could do was
to remain silent for the time, and trust that in the future some
explanation might be made which should set him aright once more in the
estimation of the best friend the homeless boy had ever known.
The departure of Sarah left him face to face with the perplexing problem
of what he was now to do. To return to Benzeor's house was impossible;
but where should he go?
Tom stood for several minutes in deep thought. There was no home which
would now be open to him except Little Peter's, and that had been
wrecked by the dreadful deeds of Fenton and his followers. Washington's
army he had heard was at Hopewell, and that was at least forty miles
away. It was to the army he had ultimately hoped to go, and perhaps the
present was the very time to which he had been looking forward so long.
The longer he thought about it the more strongly was he impressed with
the conviction that his best plan would be to try to make his way to
Hopewell, or to the place to which the army might have moved by this
time. It was true he was without provisions, and he knew of no place in
which he would be likely to obtain any, or in which he might find a
resting-place for a night. Of the long journey he thought but little,
for a walk even of forty miles had no terrors for him.
Tom decided to start for Washington's army, but first he must stop at
Little Peter's and learn what his friend's plans were to be, and offer
him such aid as it lay within his power to give.
The decision once made, Tom picked up his rifle, which now he somehow
had come to regard as his own property, and started through the forest
toward the distant road.
When at last he gained it and started towards Little Peter's home, he
was startled as he saw some one running down the road, and his first
impulse was to conceal himself in the forest and wait for the stranger
to pass; but his fears were relieved when he recognized the long lope of
the runner, and then knew that his old friend Indian John was
approaching.