A FRUITLESS CHASE
THE surprise of Tom Coward was not diminished as the novel race
continued. Twice through the open doors of the barn dashed the two
riders, their horses' hoofs slipping on the rough floor and almost
throwing the men from their seats. Both continued to maintain their
positions, however, and would no sooner disappear from Tom's sight than
they would be seen coming around the corner of the barn again, the young
American lieutenant still in advance and the British officer in close
pursuit.
Friend Nathan was standing in the doorway of his house, and, in spite of
his peaceful professions, there was an eager expression upon his face
which betrayed the fact that he was not an uninterested observer of the
strange contest. Tom had not moved from his position, and his excitement
had almost deprived him of the power of speech.
Again through the open doorways of the barn the riders had urged their
swiftly running horses, but as yet their relative positions had remained
unchanged. The British officer was leaning forward on his horse's neck
and endeavoring to grasp the bridle of the young lieutenant's horse, but
the quick movements of the latter had prevented him, and the mad race
continued.
As Lieutenant Gordon dashed around the corner of the barn, and for the
fourth time prepared to enter the open door, Tom saw that the other
members of the band were just entering the yard. The excited lad could
not longer remain silent. His friend was beset by new perils and must be
warned.
"Look out! Look out!" shouted Tom.
Young Gordon looked up and for the first time beheld the increase in the
number of his enemies. Without hesitating a moment, he turned his horse
toward the low fence and cleared it at a bound. Then, directly across
the open lot toward the woods in the distance he urged his trusty steed,
and almost before the men in the yard perceived what had occurred, he
had placed a considerable distance between him and the barn.
The confusion, however, lasted but a moment, for, with a shout, several
of the men urged their horses forward, and, leaping the low fence,
renewed the pursuit. Those who did not follow raised their guns and
discharged them at the fleeing officer; but either his movements were
too swift, or their excitement prevented them from taking careful aim,
for the bullets went wide of their mark, and in a very brief time the
young lieutenant disappeared within the woods, and soon after his
pursuers followed him.
"Thee didn't seem to catch him," said Nathan blandly to the men who
remained in the yard.
"They'll get him. They'll get him," replied the leader. "They'll soon
run him down, never you fear. But he's a bold fellow, there's no mistake
about that. What did you call out to him for?" he added, turning sharply
to Tom.
"Did I call out to him?" replied Tom. "I don't just know what I did, I
was so excited. I thought you had him."
"So I would, if it hadn't been for the barn floor."
Tom thought the barn floor was perhaps as much of a disadvantage to the
pursued as to the pursuer, but he discreetly held his peace and said no
more.
"Now, old man, you can get us some breakfast. My men will be back here
in no time with the young rebel, and will have all the better appetite
because of their morning's work. You can feed us all, can't you?" said
the officer.
"I have spoken to Rachel. Doubtless she will do her best for thee."
The men at once proceeded to place their horses in the barn and serve
them freely from the Quaker's store. Then they entered the house and
seated themselves at the table which Rachel had spread for them,
although they first stationed one of their companions as guard.
For a time no one spoke, so busied were they in their occupation, and
Tom Coward was not one whit behind any of them. He was tired and hungry,
and the breakfast was doubly welcome to him. Rachel moved quietly about
the room, her drab dress and broad white collar being in marked contrast
to the brilliant uniforms of her self-invited guests.
"Old man," said the officer at last, "I wish you'd tell me how it
happened that that young rebel was here on your place. You weren't
sheltering him, were you?"
"Nay," replied Nathan. "In times like these, Friends are not prone to
shelter any soldiers. Our guests are only those who come without any
bidding of ours."
"Ha! ha!" laughed the officer. "I fancy you mean that as a reproach for
us. Well, we'll pay you for our breakfast, never you fear about that.
Your scruples don't carry you so far that you object to receiving a
return in good yellow or white metal, do they?"
"The laborer is ever worthy of his hire. I shall be thankful for any
equivalent it may seem good unto thee to bestow upon me."
"That's right, that's right. Trust a broad brim for that every time. I'm
not complaining, old man, I'm not complaining. You don't happen to know
just where the rebel army is at present, do you?"
"It is reported that Washington is on the march for this very place.
Even now he may be approaching."
"Do you know that?" inquired the officer in a lower tone.
"Nay. I know nothing of their movements. It is all of the current report
I am speaking to thee. I fear me that a man of peace is likely to suffer
double ills between the two armies, for it is also reported that the
British and their Hessian companions are also likely to march through
this very region."
If the officer had glanced at the old Quaker he would have discovered
that there was a very keen expression upon his face as he ventured the
last supposition. But as he did not look up it was all lost upon him,
and perhaps if he had seen it, he would not have understood its meaning,
since his host was ostensibly a man of peace.
"I'm not so sure of that," said the officer quietly. "We've come to look
over the land and report to Colonel Simcoe. What makes you think the
rebels are near here, and are likely to march this way?"
"I will tell thee truly. The young man whom your companions are pursuing
slept last night in my barn. He informed me frankly that Washington was
to pass this way"--
"And fall on our army?" broke in the officer eagerly.
"That is the natural inference for thee to draw. It's a sad day for the
Friends. They are ground between the upper and the nether millstones,
for I understood thee to say that the British also were to come
hither."
"You can understand what you please," replied the leader gruffly.
"You've given me the information I most desire and Colonel Simcoe would
be glad to reward you for it, but being, as you are, a man of peace, of
course you wouldn't be willing to take anything from a man whose
occupation is blood letting. Hello! here's the guard!" he added, rising
abruptly from the table as he spoke. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," replied the guard, "except that our men are returning from
the woods."
"And did they catch the young rebel?"
"No, or at least he's not with them now."
All hurriedly left the table and rushed out into the yard, Tom also
going with them. The men could be seen returning across the lot, but it
was at once evident that the young lieutenant was not with them.
"What's the trouble? How was it that you let the slippery little rebel
get away from you?" demanded the leader, as the soldiers once more
entered the yard.
"Simply because he could ride faster than we could," replied one of the
band in a surly tone. "His horse was fresh and ours had been out all
night."
The officer was angry, but, after a few sharp words to his men, he bade
them enter the kitchen and get their breakfast.
"Did thee find him?" inquired Nathan.
"No, we didn't find him. I'd chase him right into camp if it wasn't that
I must hurry back to the colonel with the word you've given me. You're
sure about what you told me?"
"What did I tell thee?" inquired Nathan blandly.
"About the march of the rebels," replied the officer angrily. "I half
believe you're in league with them yourself, in spite of all your
whining words. If I thought you were I'd leave your body for the crows
to pick."
"And is that the method which seemeth to thee to prove thou art right,
and that I am no man of peace?"
"Oh, never mind, old man, never mind my words. Perhaps I'm a little too
hard with you. This young rebel's getting away from us has put me out of
temper. What I want to know is whether you believe what you said about
the rebels coming through Cranberry."
"I have given thee the words as they were given me. I am not in the
councils of the 'rebels,' as it seemeth good to thee to call them, and
cannot say more. It is for thee to judge, not me, who am a man of peace
and not familiar with the ways of warlike men."
By this time the men had finished their breakfast, and a hurried
consultation followed. The decision at which they arrived was soon
apparent when the leader approached Nathan, and, holding forth some
silver in his hand, said, "There, take that for the breakfast you've
given us."
"I thank thee," replied Nathan, accepting the money.
"Are you going back with us, lad?" said the officer, turning to Tom as
he spoke.
"No. You said all you wanted of me was to point out the way to
Cranberry."
"So I did, but if this old man speaks the truth,--and I'm inclined to
think he does,--you'll be better off with us than you will be to stay
behind when the rebels are coming. You'll have a good horse to ride,
too; you must not forget that."
"I think I'll stay. I'm not afraid of the rebels, and can find my way
all right." Tom's heart was beating rapidly, and the fear that
permission for him to remain would not be granted was uppermost in his
thoughts.
"Have it your own way, lad, have it your own way. I only spoke what I
thought was for your own best good."
He gave a few orders to his men, and in a brief time the band departed,
riding swiftly up the road and soon disappearing from sight.
"This was not a bad morning's work, Friend Thomas," said Nathan, when at
last the men were gone, jingling the silver in his pocket as he spoke.
"It was a good deal better than I ever expected to have," replied Tom.
Neither of them realized, however, the full consequences, for Nathan's
words, in addition to what the officer had already discovered, caused
him to return in all haste with the information he had received to
Colonel Simcoe. That officer, upon receiving the word, which was
corroborated by other discoveries he had made, at once reported to Sir
Henry Clinton, and an immediate change in the plans of the British was
made. The advance to the Raritan was speedily abandoned, the route to
the Highlands was at once chosen, and it was decided that the army
should march by the way of Monmouth Court House. The battle of Monmouth,
which soon followed, thus became possible, and that, with all its
consequences to the struggling patriots, turned upon the information
which Colonel Simcoe had received, and which he speedily carried to his
commander.
Upon such slight events do those which we sometimes call the greater
ones turn. Perhaps as we grow older and wiser we shall come to perceive
more clearly the true relation which the so-called little things of life
bear to the greater ones. A very wise man once declared that "he who was
faithful in the little affairs of life was very greatly faithful." In
any event, we have partially learned the lesson that it is a test of
true greatness to be able to do little things well, and that the very
best evidence of a man's being able to do the greater things is that he
is willing to do the smaller ones, as they come to him, faithfully and
honestly.
However, neither Nathan nor Tom was moralizing after this fashion when
they entered the house after watching the departure of the British
soldiers. Tom then related all his recent experiences to Nathan, not
omitting the story of Benzeor's misdeeds.
The old Quaker listened attentively, and it was apparent from his
frequent expressions of anger that his interest in the success of the
Continentals was not entirely banished by his peaceful professions.
"What thee needs now, friend Thomas," he said, when at last the lad's
story was ended, "is a good rest. Rachel has a bed ready for thee."
Tom followed his friend to the room upstairs, and soon stretched himself
upon the bed. How grateful it seemed to the weary lad! For a moment he
gazed at the four high posts, but soon everything was forgotten and he
was asleep.
How long he slept he did not know, but he was awakened by Nathan, who
called to him and said, "Friend Thomas, there is some one below who
desires to see thee."
Tom leaped from the bed and followed the Quaker down the stairs,
wondering who it was that wished to see him. There were confused
thoughts in his mind of the British officer and Benzeor, but he was not
in the least prepared for the sight upon which he looked when he entered
the room.