CHAPTER IXA MIDNIGHT BURYING
TO play the rôle of eavesdropper, or “Peeping Tom,” was not exactly as Hadley Morris would have wished. He hated a sneak; but his curiosity regarding his uncle’s manœuvres was for the time too strong for his ideas of what was really honorable, and instead of retreating up the stairs to the loft again, he remained where he was and watched the old gentleman with wide-open eyes.
Like most substantially built houses of that day, the Morris homestead had a great stone and brick fireplace built into the end wall. To the right of the fireplace was one of those ovens in which the pioneer housewives did all their baking. The oven was like a safe built into the side of the chimney, and had a smooth clay floor. Uncle Ephraim had always kept the oven door fastened with an old-fashioned brass padlock.
The padlock now lay on the floor, and as Hadley continued to peer into the wide kitchen from around the corner of the door-frame, he saw Master Morris draw back from the mouth of the oven, holding a bag in each hand. The bags were not large, but by the way his uncle carried them the boy knew they were heavy, and when the old man stepped down from the chair and laid them on the table, the listener heard a faint chink as though of metal. “It’s gold!” whispered the boy to himself, and his eyes opened even more widely at the thought.
Then for the first time Hadley saw that Master Morris wore his waistcoat and coat, as though he were ready to go out of doors. He put on his hat at once, stuck the half-burned candle in a lantern, and with the latter swung over his arm and one of the heavy bags in each hand, he left the house.
Hadley hesitated only a moment; then, curiosity still spurring him, he ran lightly down the remaining steps into the kitchen and followed his uncle out of doors without stopping for his own hat. The night was mild and not at all dark, but the boy might have found some difficulty in following the old man had it not been for the flickering lantern which swung from his arm. This dancing will-o’-the-wisp led the boy down behind the barns and cribs and directly into the orchard where the branches of the gnarled old apple trees met and, with their fruit and foliage, shut out most of the star-light.
Hadley crept near, cautiously, when he saw that Uncle Ephraim had halted and set the light upon the ground. Soon he discovered that the old man had been here before since he went to bed, for there was a shovel and a heap of earth in plain view. He watched his uncle and saw him drop the two bags into what appeared to be a rather deep hole, then place a flat stone on top of them, and afterward fill in the hole with the soil and stamp it all down with care. There was considerable soil left then, and the old man carried this away, shovelful by shovelful, and threw it into a ditch at the far edge of the orchard. Afterward he replaced the sod which he had earlier removed, patting it all down evenly with the flat of his shovel. The burying was completed, and marking the spot well for future reference, Hadley ran back to the house and climbed to the loft, and was nicely in bed again before the old man returned to the kitchen.
But the strangeness of the whole matter kept the boy awake long after he was sure his uncle had sought his own couch. He was unable to compose his mind to sleep, and was glad when at length the cocks crew to announce the gray light in the east. He rose and went back to the Three Oaks without again seeing Uncle Ephraim, and tried to forget the incident of the night in his work about the inn. But when he saw Colonel Creston Knowles ride off with William toward the Morris farm soon after breakfast, Hadley wished he had remained longer with his uncle, and so been present at the interview which was about to take place between the old man and the British officer.
Lillian avoided him that day, seemingly, and Hadley went about his duties with much trouble at his heart. It was after noon when Colonel Knowles and his henchman returned, and a glance at the officer’s face told Hadley that the gentleman was in a towering rage. Evidently his visit had afforded him little satisfaction.
Soon, however, something occurred which succeeded in driving this mystery into the background of the boy’s mind. News from Philadelphia had been scarce since his return from the Pennsylvania side of the river; but after supper that evening a man rode up to the inn on a fagged-out horse, and told them that the army under Washington was on the move, and was marching toward Philadelphia, as it was believed Lord Howe’s fleet would land troops to attack the city, where Congress was then in session. The man obtained a fresh mount and rode on into the east, having secret business in that direction.
That night, while Jonas Benson and Hadley sat together in the chimney place of the inn kitchen, talking over the possibilities of the battle which must occur before long, the heralding squeak of Lafe Holdness’ wagon axles reached their ears, the outer door being ajar.
“Run and open the gate for him, Had!” exclaimed Benson. “Mistress, put down something to eat for a hungry man, and I warrant you Lafe will do justice to it.”
His wife grumblingly expressed herself that a cold supper was good enough for a man like Lafe Holdness; but she, nevertheless, obeyed her husband’s request.
“Stan’ round ther, you!” From the yard the teamster’s voice could be heard addressing the horses. “Ef ye want suthin’ ter eat, why don’t ye stan’ still so’t I kin unbuckle this strap? Hello, Had Morris! is that air yeou? I didn’t ’spect to see yeou ag’in this side o’ the river till the war was over,” and the Yankee chuckled mightily and dug the boy good-naturedly in the ribs.
“We heard to-night the army was on the move, Lafe,” Jonas said, coming to the porch, and speaking low.
Lafe dropped for the moment his bantering tone and spoke seriously. “There’s going to be something done purty soon, friends—somethin’ big! There’s sure to be a battle. Howe’s fleet is comin’ up Chesapeake Bay and General Washington will meet the troops he lands somewhere south of Philadelphia; but we ain’t got much more’n ten thousand men all told.”
“How many sailed from York?” queried the innkeeper.
“Nobody knows!” returned Lafe, ruefully. “Them dispatches Had took over ter Germantown didn’t give the exact figgers. But I’m out this way sendin’ in all the scatterin’ men that hev’ got guns. There won’t much happen hereabout until the two armies meet. And, speakin’ about Had,” added Lafe, suddenly, “I’m wantin’ ter use him, Jonas.”
“Well,” remarked the innkeeper, with twinkling eyes, “he’s a pretty valuable boy to me. I have to pay his uncle for him, too.”
“You’d oughter be called Judas Benson!” declared the Yankee. “You’re a great feller ter haggle over the price of a ’prentice boy. I’m goin’ ter send him to the army—it’s at Philadelphia now.”
“And that means I’ll likely lose a good horse as well as the boy,” grumbled Jonas.
“Don’t you think I’ve got anything to say about it myself?” demanded Hadley of the Yankee.
“Not much. I’ve got orders for you,” he declared, nodding his head. “See here.” He drew a battered wallet from his pocket, and in the light of the innkeeper’s lantern selected a slip of paper from one of the compartments. This he displayed before the wondering eyes of both Jonas and Hadley. On the paper was written, in a rather cramped and formal hand:
“Send back the boy from the Three Oaks Inn with any message.“Cadwalader.”
“Send back the boy from the Three Oaks Inn with any message.
“Cadwalader.”
“Why!” exclaimed the round-eyed innkeeper, “that’s the man who saved you from the soldiers, Had--Colonel Cadwalader.”
“I reckon ye’ must ha’ got purty thick with Master Cadwalader, Had,” said Lafe, tearing the paper into small pieces. “Let me tell yeou he is in the General’s confidence as much as old Knox, or Colonel Pickering. I got suthin’ important for yeou to take to headquarters, an’ if yeou’ve had your supper yeou’d better saddle a hoss an’ git away with it purty soon. The quicker ye start the sooner ye’ll ketch the army, for it’s on the move.”
While he was speaking, Jonas Benson was already leading Black Molly out of her stall, showing at once that his objections to the boy’s departure had been but momentary. “He’s had his supper, and he can git out right now!” he declared.
But Hadley waited long enough to go into the loft and put on the best suit of homespun which he possessed, and encased his legs in long riding boots with a pair of tiny spurs screwed into the heels. There were no papers to take this time, for Lafe Holdness whispered the message he had to send into the boy’s attentive ear. “An’ now good luck to ye!” exclaimed the scout as the youth mounted into the saddle and Jonas opened the stable door. “Nobody can take nothin’ from ye this time, but mebbe it’s just as well if yeou dodge all armed men of airy complection till ye pass Germantown.”
Black Molly trotted quietly down the inn yard toward the gate. Just as she was going through this and her rider was about to give her the rein, he was startled by a soft “S-s-st!” beside him. He turned his head quickly and drew Molly down to a walk. A shadowy figure stood at the end of the porch. In an instant Hadley recognized Lillian Knowles, with a light shawl flung over her head and shoulders, and her hand outstretched to him.
A FIGURE STOOD AT THE END OF THE PORCH
A FIGURE STOOD AT THE END OF THE PORCH
“Hadley Morris!” she whispered, “if you are carrying anything—anything you don’t want other folks to see—look out! There are others beside me who know you are riding toward the ferry to-night.” And then, before he could reply or express his astonishment at her warning, she disappeared within the shadow of the porch. He heard the door close softly behind her, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he started Molly on again and turned her head toward the distant ferry, wondering if he ought to take the girl’s words seriously and turn back for reinforcements.
[TO BE CONTINUED]