A SOLDIER WOMAN
"Why, Molly, you aren't going to keep us out here in the rain, are you?"
Tom looked up in surprise as he heard the young lieutenant's words; and while his fears were somewhat relieved by the assurance that his companion evidently had recognized the peculiar being before them, his confusion was not diminished by the reply which the strangely clad woman quickly made.
"Sure, and it's me bye! It's me beautiful bye! Come in, me darlint! What for should ye be standin' out there in the storm?"
The two dripping young soldiers speedily accepted the invitation, and entered the barn, leading their horses with them. To their surprise they now discovered that several men were also in the building, and that other horses were stalled in the barn.
The appearance of Tom's horse was greeted by a shout of delight, and the person whomLieutenant Gordon had addressed as "Molly" approached, and, after critically examining the poor beast for a moment, said:—
"And where in the world did ye be after findin' that? It's a pity, it is indade, to be after compellin' such poor bastes as that to be fightin' the Dootch butchers! Sure, and it's the surgeon the poor thing is after needin'."
Molly's hair was of a bright red color, her face was covered with freckles, which were like great blotches upon the skin, and her eyes were so faded as to be almost colorless; but her expression was so evidently one of good nature that Tom was compelled to join in the laugh which her words raised among the half dozen men who quickly assembled to pass judgment upon the steed which had been led into the barn.
"Oh, that's something we bought back here to carry my friend as far as the army."
"It's lucky, it is, that ye haven't very far to go, thin," laughed Molly.
"Perhaps you're right, Molly," replied the lieutenant. "How far back is the army now?"
"About a mile, I'm thinkin'."
"What? What's that you say? Only a mile from here?"
"That's what I'm tellin' yez. The army's been marchin' in the night; but this rain will be after compellin' it to halt right in—in Gooseberry, as I'm told they call it."
"Cranberry," laughed the lieutenant.
"Cranberry or Gooseberry is all one and the same thing to me. Now, me bye, ye'll be after wantin' some breakfast, I'm thinkin'. Jest say the word and I'll be fixin' ye out, and have a bit left over for yer poor baste, which doesn't look as if he'd been livin' any too high of late."
"No, no, Molly," protested the lieutenant quickly, and, as Tom thought, with an eagerness he could not understand. "We're not hungry, for we had some breakfast before we started this morning. We did indeed," he added, as he noted the woman's apparent unbelief. "We're not hungry, but it's kind of you to think of us, and we thank you just the same as if you had fed us."
In the course of the conversation between the young lieutenant and the men in the barn, Tom learned that the main body of the army was now less than a mile away. The little band had been one of the advance parties, and the storm had compelled them to seek the shelter of the barn by the roadside.
Meanwhile, the rain continued to fall, and long after the thunder ceased the storm showed no signs of abating. The water almost covered the road and penetrated the roof of the barn, which was far from being in a good state of repair. The heavy downpour, however, did not seem to cool the air, and the men and horses were in a sad plight. Just why they should have sought the shelter, which virtually was no shelter at all, Tom could not understand; but he asked no questions, and busied himself in listening to the conversation of the men, and watching the intrepid Molly, who to all appearances was not aware of the fact that she was not as much of a true soldier as any of the men.
After a half hour had passed the lieutenant approached the boy, who was standing before the open door, looking out upon the storm.
"Who is she? What is she?" inquired Tom, indicating by a glance of his eyes the strange woman whom his friend had addressed as "Molly."
"She? Oh, she's the wife of one of the cannoneers. She's been in the army for a long time. She's from New Jersey, too, I understand, though her husband's home is in Pennsylvania."
"I didn't know there were women in the army."
"Oh yes, there have always been some. Why, even on that expedition of Arnold's to Quebec there were several women who marched all the way with their husbands, and they say they stood the long tramps and the cold better than a good many of the men did."
"Why did you call this woman 'Molly'? Is that her name?"
"Oh, in the army, or at least in this army, the women have been the ones to bring us water on the warm days, and so we call each one Molly 'Pitcher.' They've been kept busy during this hot spell, too. This woman's name I believe is really Molly, though,—Molly McCauley. Then you didn't expect to see women with their husbands in the army?" laughed the lieutenant, as he noticed that Tom was regarding Mistress McCauley curiously.
"No, I didn't. I don't think I like it."
"You'll find all sorts and kinds of people in the ranks. Some of the women have been worth more than the men. There was one up at Fort Clinton. She was very much such a looking woman as Captain Molly here, only she was a good deal more careless. They used to call her 'Dirty Kate,' because shewasn't always very neat in her personal appearance. But she was brave as a lion, and such a fighter! Why, she fired the last cannon at the British, as they came scrambling over the ramparts, which happened to be about the same time our men were leaving. Well, Kate's husband was a cannoneer, just as Molly's here is, and he was holding the match in his hand ready to fire the gun when he saw the redcoats coming, and the sight suddenly reminded him that he had some work to do outside the fort which demanded his immediate attention. Well, Kate just picked up the match her husband had dropped, touched off the cannon, and then scampered away after the men. She was a brave woman, and so is Captain Molly, here. She'd do as well as Kate did, if she had the chance, and perhaps she will before the end comes. I shouldn't want to have her fight me, I can tell you!"[2]
Tom turned and looked again at the woman.She stood talking with her husband now, and her strange garb served to intensify her peculiarities. Her great size and evident strength were plainly to be seen, but her face beamed with good nature, and her enjoyment of the life she was living was indicated by her every word and action.
Tom thought of Sarah, and the contrast between her gentleness and the rough appearance and masculine manners of Captain Molly aroused within him a feeling which was not altogether in favor of the soldier woman. It is true that the name of Sarah is unknown to-day, while that of Captain Molly Pitcher is recorded in all our school histories; but, after all, notoriety may not be the most valuable quality in life, and while the names of many men and women who lived quiet, faithful, honest lives may have been forgotten by their descendants, they may not have been of the less value to the world because of that fact. A good name is sometimes better than a notorious one, and an honest man, though he may be soon forgotten, may be greater than a dishonest man whose name is frequently mentioned. Few of us would desire to be like Benedict Arnold, although his name is a very familiar one to all.
"I don't see any use in staying here," said Tom at last. "It's wet inside the barn, and it can't be much worse outside. Why don't we start on?"
Now that he was so near to the American army, the lad was eager to go forward. All his dreams and visions of the forces which were fighting against the redcoats came back to him, and his impatience to proceed increased each moment. Perhaps the sight and presence of Captain Molly, as well as the account the young lieutenant had given of her, had created a still greater desire in Tom's heart to quit the place; but, be that as it may, he was ready to go, and apparently his companion shared in his feeling.
"If you think your horse will stand up for a mile, we might do as you say," replied the lieutenant. "I think we'll be going on," he added, turning to the men as he spoke. "I've some important information to give the general, and as I don't see any signs of the rain stopping, I think we ought not to delay longer. We can't be much worse off than we are now."
"Sure, and ye'll not be after goin' out in such a storm as this!" protested Molly. "It would be a shame to take that poor baste outinto the rain now. He has all he can do to stand up in the barn, to say nothin' of havin' to be carryin' a load. It's the last drop that'll be after breakin' of his back, yez know."
The men all laughed at the woman's words, but the lieutenant was not to be deterred, and accordingly the horses were brought forth and the two men speedily mounted. Tom's horse was limping painfully when he started, and as the lad glanced backward he could see Captain Molly standing in the doorway, her hands resting upon her hips, and her broad, freckled face beaming with delight over the sorry spectacle he was well aware that he presented.
A feeling of disgust arose in his heart as he watched her. Surely she must be lacking in all the qualities which he had most honored in the women he knew. Coarseness was in place of delicacy, boldness instead of modesty, and her entire bearing was such that Tom never afterwards could hear her name mentioned without expressing his disgust. Not even the bravery of the deed which Captain Molly Pitcher did not many hours after this time, and which Tom Coward himself witnessed, entirely banished the prejudice whichhe entertained against the coarse, good-natured, manly, unwomanly woman.
The storm had ceased when, after a short ride, Tom and his companion first came within sight of the American army. All the long pent-up hopes of the lad were now about to be fulfilled, and for the first time in his life he was to look upon the men whose names and deeds had long been familiar to him. His eagerness brought a smile to his companion's face, but while he watched the lad he did not speak.
Molly Pitcher had spoken truly, and the American army had halted after a brief march from Kingston in the preceding night, and now were compelled to remain during the entire day in Cranberry. Only the advance corps had moved forward, and at that time were holding a position on the road to Monmouth Court House and within five miles of the rear of the British.
In spite of his own excitement, and that which was apparent among the men in the camp when Tom and the lieutenant entered, the lad's first feeling was one of keen disappointment. Were these the men of whom he had heard so much and from whom so much was expected? Mud-stained, worn by theirrecent exertions, plainly showing the effects of the intense heat, many of them without uniforms, some hatless and coatless, to the vision of Tom Coward they presented far more the appearance of a mob than of the orderly and well-trained soldiers he had expected to see.
The young lieutenant had left him as soon as they entered the camp, leading the two horses away with him,—a fact over which Tom did not long lament, we may be sure. An hour passed before the young officer returned, for he was to make a report of all that he had learned, and Tom's hopes were not strengthened as he watched the men about him during his companion's absence.
Lieutenant Gordon noticed the expression upon Tom's face when he rejoined him, but, attributing it to the fear which he supposed the lad felt, he did not refer to it, and in the labors which soon followed no opportunity to explain was given by either.
General Dickinson, with the New Jersey militia, was not with the main body, as we already know, and Tom found that he could not be assigned to them. Through the lieutenant's influence, he was to be retained with the main body, and to assist in serving asa guide for the army, an office which Tom was well fitted to hold, although it was not just in accord with the plans he had formed in his own mind.
Reports came into the camp during the day which clearly indicated that the advance corps was too far away to be properly supported at once in the present condition of the roads. But on Saturday morning Lafayette, with his troops, was ordered to file off by his left towards Englishtown, and in the same day the main body, under General Washington, marched out from Cranberry and encamped within three miles of the place.
This brought the two opposing armies now within eight miles of each other, while General Lee's forces, five thousand strong, without Morgan's dragoons or the New Jersey militia, were three miles nearer the British.
Such was the condition of affairs on that night of Saturday, June 27 (1778), and Tom Coward, as well as many of the men in Washington's army, slept but little, with the knowledge that on the morrow the long delayed battle would doubtless be begun.
FOOTNOTE:[2]In many of our histories the "Captain Molly" of Monmouth has been confounded with "Dirty Kate" of Fort Clinton. They were, however, two women,—not one. Lossing, in the first edition of hisField Book of the American Revolution, referred to them as if they were identical, but the correction was to have been made for his second edition, and was in type, but through an oversight was omitted.
[2]In many of our histories the "Captain Molly" of Monmouth has been confounded with "Dirty Kate" of Fort Clinton. They were, however, two women,—not one. Lossing, in the first edition of hisField Book of the American Revolution, referred to them as if they were identical, but the correction was to have been made for his second edition, and was in type, but through an oversight was omitted.
[2]In many of our histories the "Captain Molly" of Monmouth has been confounded with "Dirty Kate" of Fort Clinton. They were, however, two women,—not one. Lossing, in the first edition of hisField Book of the American Revolution, referred to them as if they were identical, but the correction was to have been made for his second edition, and was in type, but through an oversight was omitted.
AN INTERRUPTED JOURNEY
Thesurprise of Little Peter at the unexpected action of Benzeor was increased when the escaping man seated himself in the whaleboat and quickly began to row the long craft back toward the Washington.
"Hurrah for the redcoats! Hurrah for King George! Hurrah for the British!" shouted Benzeor defiantly.
This boldness was as surprising to Peter as the sudden departure had been; but, as he glanced toward the Washington and saw that the attacking party had already boarded her, and then realized that he himself had been left alone by his recent companions, he was quickly recalled to the necessity of action on his own part. Without waiting to observe the further movements of Benzeor or the British, he instantly turned and entered the woods; but a quarter of an hour had elapsed before he overtook the men, whom he found resting by the side of the road which led past the home of Ted Wilson.
To this house the entire party now made their way, and as Ted listened to the story of Benzeor's perfidy, his anger broke forth afresh.
"I never ought to have let the rascal go!" exclaimed Ted excitedly. "I had him right there in the river, and if you hadn't interfered with me I'd have fixed him so that he never would have betrayed any one again. Now the rascal's where he can keep up his evil doings."
"He's shown where he stands, any way. That's some comfort," said one of the men.
"It may comfort you, but it doesn't me," replied Ted. "I'm a peaceable man, I am, and I never cared much about whether it was to be the King of England or the Continental Congress that ruled over me. I don't see as it would make very much difference to me, for my part. But when that rascal hangs my Sallie up on the limb of a tree,—Sallie's my wife, ye know,—why, then Benzeor Osburn has jest got to look out for himself."
Ted's anger was so evident that Little Peter almost had a feeling of sympathy for Benzeor, angry as he himself was at the treachery his neighbor had displayed.
"Are you going to follow him up, Ted?" inquired the leader.
"Am I goin' to follow him? That's just what I'm going to do! I'm goin' to send Sallie and the babies over to your house, and I'm just goin' to leave my place here,—they can't steal that, any way,—and follow up Benzeor Osburn till I find him. I don't care if he runs clear to the other side of the Alleghany Mountains,—I've heard as how there was some mountains by that name away out west somewhere,—why, Benzeor'll wake up some fine mornin' and find himself a-shakin' hands with me. Yes, sir, this land o' ours may put up with the Hessians, but it isn't big enough to hold such a fellow as Benzeor! Hangin' Sallies! I'll put a stop to his fine work! Sallie's my wife, ye know!"
"Remember us to him when you meet him, Ted," said the leader. "You can charge him for the loss of the Washington, too!"
"His door will be free of all chalk scores when I'm done with him," said Ted savagely. "That's goin' to be my work, clearin' the land of pine robbers, just as I once cleared it of pine stumps!"
"We must start on now," said the leader. "Take your wife and children up to my house, Ted. The women can fight together against the pine robbers, if they come there."
"They won't come there," replied Ted. "There'll be fewer of 'em when I've done my duty. There'll be no more hangin' Sallies. Sallie's my wife, ye know."
"I suspected as much from your words," said the leader. "Are you going with us?" he added, turning, as he spoke, to Little Peter.
"No," replied the lad.
"What are you going to do now? You can't get your father out of the New York prisons. You'd better come with us."
"I can't. I've other work to do."
"Have it your own way, my lad, though I think you're making a mistake not to come with us."
The band soon departed, leaving Little Peter and the huge Ted behind them. There was slight likelihood that the men who had captured the Washington would venture on shore to pursue the fugitives, and the knowledge of this fact had made all the parties feel comparatively safe.
"What are you goin' to do now?" said Ted, when he and Little Peter were left alone.
"I'm going straight to Benzeor's house. After what I have just seen, I'm afraid to leave the children there another minute. Inever would have thought Benzeor was a traitor, never! But he is, there's no doubt about it now! I don't know what will become of them. I don't know where to turn, or what to do."
Little Peter then went on to relate the story of the sad loss which had occurred in his home, Ted listening meanwhile with intense interest.
"It's Benzeor's work!" he said excitedly when the lad at last stopped. "Yes, sir! You mark my words, Benzeor Osburn was at the bottom of it all. You'll have to go in with me and help rid the land of him! The rascal! Goin' round hangin' Sallies and shootin' mothers!"
"I've all I want to do to look after my little brothers and sisters," said Little Peter quietly. "I don't know what I can do with them, but I can't leave them at Benzeor's!"
"No more you can't," said Ted. "I'll tell you what to do with 'em. Jest bring 'em all down here and leave 'em with Sallie over at the captain's. I think they'll be safe enough there."
"Thank you; but it's most too far to bring them, I'm afraid. It's a good twenty miles from here, and we haven't a horse left."
"I wish I could let ye have one, but all of mine are gone too, except one little mule; and you'd have to turn him round and make him go backward if you wanted to go anywhere, he's such an obstinate little beast. I'll tell you what I'll do, Peter! Just as soon as I've taken Sallie—she's my wife, ye know—and the babies over to the captain's, I'll go with ye and help ye out. That's what I'll do for ye."
"Thank you again," replied Peter, "but I don't think you had better do it. You may be needed around here, and I don't know yet what I shall do."
"Maybe you're right, Peter, maybe you're right. Well, have it your own way. When are you goin' to start?"
"Right away."
Little Peter at once bade his friend good-by and started forth on his long walk. He had appreciated the offer of the mighty Ted, but there were many reasons why he wished to be alone, for a time at least. Benzeor's treachery was still so fresh in his mind that he knew not what to do, and the excitement attending the escape from the Washington had not yet disappeared. Then, too, he did not know what the angry giant might bemoved to do. Ordinarily good-natured and easy-going as the powerful man was, when once his wrath was aroused there would be no limits to what it might lead him into. And Little Peter's heart was too heavy, under the burden of his recent sorrows and present perplexities, to permit the lad to be drawn aside from the task which had presented itself to him.
He had gone about half the way down the long lane which led from Ted's house to the road, when he heard some one calling to him. Looking quickly behind him, he discovered Ted himself running rapidly down the path toward him.
Startled by the sight and fearful that some new danger had appeared, he stopped, and then turned back to meet the man.
"What is it? What is it?" he called.
Ted stopped as the lad called, and, shaking one of his great fists in the air, replied, "Hangin' Sallies! Hangin' Sallies!"
"What? Have they tried it again?"
"No! Once was enough, I should think, when Sallie's my wife, ye know! I just wanted to remind ye what the password was. It's 'Hangin' Sallies,' that's what it is! Ye won't forget it, will ye?"
"No," replied Peter soberly. "I'll try to keep it in mind."
"That's right! See that ye do! Hangin' Sallies, that's the word. I jest wanted to remind ye of it, that was all. Hangin' Sallies! Hangin' Sallies!"
Little Peter resumed his journey, but, until he passed around the bend in the road, whenever he looked behind him he could see the mighty Ted standing in the lane, and shaking his fist in the air if he perceived that the lad beheld him.
What a strange man Ted was, thought Little Peter as he walked on. He had known him for years, as had most of the people in Old Monmouth. His feats in the country wrestling matches had made him famous, and marvelous were the tales told concerning his almost superhuman strength. It had been related that Ted one time had lifted a great ox bodily from the ground, and Little Peter had believed the report. And yet, with it all, Ted had always seemed to him like a boy. Kind-hearted, ever willing to grant a favor or do anything within his power for another, he had never before seen him when his wrath was kindled. "Hanging Sallies!" Perhaps Ted's feelings were only natural when he haddiscovered the pine robbers in their cruel act. Benzeor would not be likely to escape from his hands so easily, if the angry man once held him in his grasp again.
But Sallie Wilson was still alive, and the lad thought Ted's position was far better than his own. His mother shot by the pine robbers, his father sent away a prisoner, perhaps to die of starvation in those dreadful prison ships of which so many stories already had been told, and his younger brothers and sisters homeless and helpless, and all looking to him as their sole support. What could he do? Surely no one in Old Monmouth had suffered more than he, although Old Monmouth itself had known more of the evils of war than almost any other portion of our land in all that fearful struggle of the American Revolution.
"How?"
Little Peter's meditations were suddenly interrupted by Indian John, who stepped forth into the road and greeted him with his customary salutation.
"Where did you come from, John? I thought you were up in Moluss's wigwam."
"Moluss gone, Bath gone, John gone, too. Come to help friend. Find fader?" he suddenlyadded, peering keenly, as he spoke, into Little Peter's face.
"No; my father has been sent to New York."
"Bad. What boy do now?"
"I'm going back to Benzeor's to look after the children."
The Indian's eyes betrayed the question he might have asked, but did not. Indian John soon induced his companion to abandon the road and follow him through the forests. Many a mile was saved in this manner, and, under the burning heat of the sun, the shade of the great trees was most grateful to the sadly troubled lad. There was something in the presence of the majestic trees which seemed to appeal to Little Peter. He was alone and yet not alone with such companions. Indian John also seemed to share in his feelings, and seldom spoke. For mile after mile they continued on their journey, and the shadows were lengthening when at last they stepped forth into the road, which Peter recognized, and then knew that Benzeor's house was not far away. The long journey would soon be ended now, and fresh hope came to the weary lad, as he thought that he would see the children again.
What he should do with them, however, was a problem still unsolved, and the solution apparently was no nearer than when he had set forth on his journey from the home of Ted Wilson. With all of the anger which had come with the discovery of Benzeor's treachery, Little Peter could not bring himself to believe that either Sarah or her mother had any knowledge of his evil deeds. His confidence in them was still unbroken, and his sole hope was that they might be able to suggest some plan by which the children could be cared for. As for leaving them at Benzeor's, that was impossible; and as the lad thought again of the discovery of his neighbor's crimes, he quickened his pace, and he and his companion began to walk more rapidly along the hot and dusty road. Not more than two miles remained between them and the end of their journey, and, in his eagerness, Little Peter almost forgot his weariness and constantly urged the Indian by his side to increase their speed.
They had been in the road but a few minutes when they heard the sound of horsemen approaching from behind them. All unsuspicious of danger, Little Peter and Indian John halted, waiting for the men to pass.There were five of them in the band, and all were riding swiftly. Their horses were dripping, and with almost every step flung the foam from their mouths. Surely something must be wrong, to induce men to ride like that upon such a warm day, thought Little Peter; but his surmises were quickly driven from his mind when he recognized Fenton and Benzeor in advance of the band.
Startled by the unexpected sight, he hardly knew what to do. The men were too near for him to hope to escape their notice now; and, even while he hesitated, he saw Benzeor quickly draw the rein on the horse he was riding and leap to the ground.
"Get him! Shoot him! Stop that boy!" shouted Benzeor.
Indian John had been keenly watching the approaching band, and as he heard the shout of the angry man, he touched Peter upon the arm, and said, "Come."
Little Peter instantly responded, and followed his companion as he started swiftly across the open lot toward the woods which lay beyond it.
THE ABODE OF INDIAN JOHN
Thepursuit of Little Peter and Indian John was not long continued, nor was a single gun discharged; a fact for which the frightened lad was unable to account at the time, although on the following morning the cause for it was made clear.
Wearied though the lad was by his long journey, the shout of Benzeor had provided an impulse sufficiently strong to compel him to keep up with his companion, who was running swiftly toward the shelter of the woods which were not far away.
In a brief time the breathless fugitives gained its shelter, and then for the first time turned and glanced behind them. The men had turned back and now could be seen still standing by the roadside, near the place where Peter and the Indian had started across the lot. What they were doing could not be discovered; but, without waiting for further investigations, the flight was at onceresumed, and, keeping well together, the lad and his companion ran swiftly forward, and soon the distance between them and the pine robbers had been still further increased.
The sunlight had now departed from the forest, and the dusk had settled over all. The air was close and oppressive, and Peter's dripping face betrayed the force of his recent exertions and the excitement under which he was laboring. Already the night birds had made their appearance, and here and there among the branches of the lofty trees the bats could be seen darting about in quest of their evening meal. The very silence served to increase the feeling of utter loneliness which swept over the weary, heartbroken lad, and for a moment it almost seemed to him as if any further efforts on his part were as useless as they were difficult. Benzeor's anger promised little good for the children who had been left in his home, and fears for his little brothers and sisters were mingled in Little Peter's mind with the consciousness of his own weariness and the thought of his own forlorn condition.
Difficult as the problem doubtless was, he knew he must not give way to it, and when Indian John indicated in a few moments thatthe time had come when they must go on, the lad resolutely again turned to follow him, although he had not the slightest conception of the plan which was in his companion's mind.
Carefully they walked on through the increasing gloom, and within a half hour Little Peter heard the sounds of a running brook in the distance. He instantly recognized the locality, for many a time had he and Tom in the springtime followed the course of the "run," as the people of Old Monmouth called the stream, and the strings of fish which they had brought home with them had borne ample witness to the success which had crowned their efforts.
But none of these things were in Little Peter's mind as he followed Indian John, who had now turned and was proceeding along the bank and making his way up the stream. As they walked on, the sound of a waterfall began to be more and more distinctly heard, and soon they came out into a place from which, in the deepening gloom, the falling waters could be seen. Into the basin which had been formed by the sharp fall of the stream, a tall, large tree had fallen years before this time. Its broken roots had tornup the earth, and now stood like a barrier on the bank, and Indian John led the way directly toward this spot.
As they approached, Peter discovered a hole in the rocks, but he was not prepared for the action of his companion; for, without a word, the Indian dropped upon his hands and knees and crawled into the entrance and speedily disappeared from sight.
Hesitating only a moment, Little Peter soon followed his companion, and after crawling along on his hands and knees for a number of yards, suddenly beheld a large, open space directly before him. Indian John had provided a light by this time, for he had been willing to follow the customs of his more civilized neighbors to the extent of making use of candles, and as Peter arose and glanced about him, he knew at once that he was in the cave which it was reported was the abode of the red man.
Frequently as the lad had passed the very place into which he had crawled that night, it had never occurred to him that it was anything more than a hole in the rocks that formed the bank of the "run," and his surprise was therefore the greater at the sight before him. The spot was considerably abovethe bed of the stream, and consequently was comparatively dry. Straw and dry leaves lay scattered about over the floor, and the sheltered place apparently was safe from all approach or danger.
Indian John at once indicated to his companion that he was to pass the night there, and the weary lad was glad to accept the invitation, and soon stretched himself upon the bed of straw. The light of the candle was extinguished, and the Indian then speedily followed the example of Peter. The sounds of the running brook came faintly to the ears of the troubled lad, but that was all he could hear. The darkness was intense, and for a time the fear of other occupants of various kinds prevented Peter from sleeping, but at last even that was forgotten in the dreamless sleep that followed.
When he awoke, Little Peter at first could not determine where he was, but as the outlines of the cave were seen in the dim light which penetrated it, the experiences of the preceding day were recalled, and he quickly arose. Indian John was not in the cave, however, and as the lad now was aware that the morning had come, he hastily crawled through the passageway that led to the bank.
As he regained the bank, he saw that his companion was busily engaged in roasting some birds he had shot. The sight was a welcome one, for Peter was now aware of the fact that he was decidedly hungry, and, following his companion's advice, he departed in search of some berries to add to the morning meal. In the course of a half hour he returned with his hat well filled, and, after bathing his hands and face in the cool waters of the brook, prepared at once to join his companion.
For a few minutes neither spoke, but the rapid manner in which the roasted birds disappeared showed that conversation was not uppermost in their minds.
At last, when several of the birds had been eaten, and many of the berries had disappeared, Indian John turned to his companion and said, "Boy want 'hop-hop' now? Plenty 'hop-hop.' Make um good."
"No, no," replied Peter quickly. "The birds are enough. Where did you get them, John?"
"Shoot um. Plenty birds; plenty 'hop-hop.'"
"You must have been up early this morning, John. I didn't hear you."
The Indian made no reply and remained silent for several minutes. Then, turning abruptly and looking keenly at Peter, he said, "What boy do now?"
"I don't know," replied Little Peter disconsolately.
The words brought him face to face again with the problem that must be solved. The fresh cool air of the morning, the silence of the forest, and, above all, the enjoyment of the breakfast which John had provided, made him at first wish that he might remain there and forget all the troubles that were so near. But Peter was not a selfish lad, and knew that the motherless children must be provided for.
"I was going to Benzeor's," he said after a time, "but I don't know what to do now. I can't understand what he meant by coming back here in broad daylight after what has happened. He knows that I know all about it, and that was the reason why he wanted to catch me last night. I can't go up to his house now, and yet I don't dare leave the children there, either."
"Boy go," said Indian John quietly.
"But I can't go, John. How can I? There were four men with Benzeor, and youheard what he said. It wouldn't be safe for me to go there now. I don't know what to do."
"Boy go; Benzeor no there."
"Benzeor not there? How do you know? What makes you think that, John?"
"John been there."
"When? This morning?"
The Indian nodded his head, and then said, "Man no there. Girl there. Two, t'ree little Peters there. Boy go. All safe."
"You don't mean it?" said Peter eagerly, and standing erect as he spoke. "Come on, then, John; we'll start this minute."
"Boy go; Indian no go."
"Why not? I thought you were going with me."
"John no go. John no home, no papoose, no notin'. All white man now. All gone. Indian no stay. Boy go."
"All right, John; I won't urge you. But if you're right, and Benzeor isn't at home, you needn't be afraid."
The Indian's eyes snapped at the words, but he made no reply, and Little Peter was too eager to start now to realize the force of his own words. As he departed, he saw his recent companion standing on the bank ofthe brook in an attitude as if he were listening to sounds far off in the forest. Perhaps if the lad had realized that it was the last time he would ever behold the face of Indian John, he would have lingered longer; but, as it was, his desire to go to Benzeor's house and learn of the present condition of the children banished all other thoughts from his mind, and in a few moments he had started toward the road.
He retraced his way across the open lot, and as he came within sight of the road he suddenly stopped, as he saw a mounted man there. Apparently the man was alone, and what was strange was the fact that he apparently was not moving.
Little Peter waited several minutes, but as the man still retained his position, and no one joined him, he resolved to proceed. Approaching cautiously, and ready to run at the first appearance of danger, his surprise was increased as he beheld the strange manner in which the horseman was seated on his beast. Instead of sitting with his face toward the head of his steed, his position was exactly reversed, and to all appearances he either was going in a direction opposite to that of his horse or else was riding backward.
Puzzled to account for the strange attitude, Peter also noticed as he approached that the beast on which the man was mounted was a mule and had stopped in the middle of the road. In a moment he recognized the man as Ted Wilson, and with a shout he ran forward.
"Why, my lad, what are you doing here?" exclaimed Ted, as he beheld the approaching boy.
"It's more to the point to ask what you are doing here. What are you sitting on that mule that way for? What have you stopped for? Why don't you go ahead?"
"There are several good reasons," replied Ted blandly. "In the first place, if the mule won't go, I can't go. Then, if he stops, I have to stop, too. As to the reason for my being here, why, I'm looking for Benzeor."
"I don't know where you expect to find him," laughed Peter—forgetting his own anxiety for the moment in the ludicrous sight before him.
"Well, I got to thinking of it yesterday after you left me; and when I'd taken Sallie and the babies up to the captain's,—Sallie's my wife, ye know,—I jest made up my mind as how I'd got to look after Benzeor afore he did any more damage. Goin' around thecountry hangin' Sallies! The rascal! Old Monmouth never'll be safe till Benzeor Osburn has been 'tended to. And if I'm not the man to do it, I don't know who is. So Jeshurun and I decided to start out last night, and we've been travelin' ever since."
"Jeshurun? I don't see anybody with you," said Peter, glancing quickly about him as he spoke.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Ted. "Ye're lookin' too far afield, young man. This here fellow's Jeshurun. Whoa, Jesh! Whoa!" he suddenly added, as the mule darted to one side and turned several circles in the road before his rider could stop him.
"Yes, sir; this is Jeshurun, and a more onery little beast never lived. I told ye about him yesterday, and how he'd suddenly take it into his head to go backwards for a bit. That's the reason I ride him this way part of the time. He thinks I want to go the other way, ye see, and that's how I come it over him by jest sittin' the wrong way, too. Besides, a good twist of his tail is worth more than a bridle sometimes. Instead of controllin' him with a bridle, as any decent beast would be glad to have me do, I just have to steer him by twistin' his tail, same's I use therudder in my boat, ye see. Whoa there, Jesh! Whoa there! What's the matter with ye, anyhow? Whoa! Whoa!"
These last remarks of Ted were caused by a sudden movement on the part of Jeshurun, whose heels were thrown into the air, while with his teeth he almost literally bit the dust. The mule was small and the feet of his rider almost touched the ground, and the antics of the pair caused Peter to laugh aloud.
"Where did you get that name for him?" he inquired when quiet was restored.
"Oh, it came to him jest natural like. Two years ago when I bought him, and was a-leadin' him home, I got him into the yard and then he just began to make his heels fly like a pair o' drumsticks. It's likely there was some noise made by him or me, I don't jest know which, and the first thing I knew, Sallie—she's my wife, ye know—and a whole lot o' folks came a-runnin' out o' the house to see what all the rumpus was about. They was havin' meetin' in the house, though I didn't know anything about that, or I wouldn't have argued with the mule as I was doin', o' course. Well, sir, if you'd believe it, the parson had been a-preachin' about somebody in the Old Testament. His textwas: 'But Jeshurun waxed fat and kicked: thou art waxen fat, thou art grown thick, thou art covered with fatness.' Yes, sir; those were his very words. Well, when Sallie—she's my wife, ye know—set eyes on this here beast, she said Jeshurun should be his name, and Jeshurun it's been ever since. Whoa there! Whoa, I say! What ye up to now?"
Perhaps Jeshurun objected to the story, for he suddenly whirled about and started swiftly up the road. In vain Ted tried to restrain him, but after his attempts failed, he turned and shouted, "I'll see you farther on! Jesh'll get tired o' this."
As Jeshurun and his rider disappeared in a cloud of dust, Little Peter quickly recovered from his surprise and started briskly after them.