a 
 
 . 

 
 -OLIVErPERCIViVI,- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE SON OF 
 A TORY 
 
 A narrative of the Experiences of Wilton 
 
 Aubrey in the Mohawk Valley and 
 
 elsewhere during the Summer of 
 
 1777, now for the first time 
 
 edited by 
 
 CLINTON SCOLLARD 
 
 Author of "A Man-at-Armt" etc. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 Richard G. Badger & Company 
 
 (Incorporated) 
 
 1901
 
 Copyright 1901 by 
 
 Richard G. Badger & Company 
 
 (Incorporated) 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 PRINTED BY LAKEVIEW PRESS 
 
 SOUTH FKAMINGHAM, MASS., FOR 
 
 RICHARD G BADGER & COMPANY (INC ) 
 
 BOSTON
 
 To HENRY PELOUZE DE FOREST, M. D. 
 My dear Harry: 
 
 Although it was not your lot, like 
 mine, to be born within far crow-call of 
 the Mohawk Valley, where most of the 
 scenes described in these pages were en 
 acted, yet inasmuch as you have gazed 
 lingeringly with me upon the rich sweep 
 of the river vale I venture here to set 
 your name ; but chiefly am I moved to 
 do so because of the good-fellowship and 
 affection that have long been between us. 
 
 C. S. 
 
 JL <r
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. News from the North ... 11 
 
 II. What Happened on Muster Night . 28 
 
 III. The Tryst 49 
 
 IV. In the Wilderness .... 68 
 V. At Oswego 88 
 
 VI. The Coming of St. Leger . . . 104 
 
 VII. With the Advance . ... 118 
 
 VIII. The Fort is Encompassed . . . 135 
 
 IX. The Baronet Shows his Hand . . 150 
 
 X. An Unexpected Encounter . . 165 
 
 XI. The Sortie 179 
 
 XII. The Tarry within the Fort . . 195 
 
 XIII. A Perilous Venture . . . . S10 
 
 XIV. At Shoemaker's . ... 226 
 XV. My Home-Coming .... 238 
 
 XVI. The Sending of Son Yost Schuyler . 249 
 
 XVII. How the Euse de Guerre Succeeded . 2Q4 
 
 XV HI. The Quest for Margaret . . . 281 
 
 XIX. The Gardineer Place . . 297
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 ( Wilton Aubrey to the Reader.} 
 
 She whom I hold dearest in the whole 
 fair round of earth avers that whatever 
 imagination I possess takes wing when I 
 seat myself and put pen to paper. It seems 
 to me that this is rather a severe arraign 
 ment of my powers of expression, although 
 I will confess that I have never been enam 
 ored of things fanciful. My early law 
 studies, declares the little lady in question, 
 must have stunted, if not altogether de 
 stroyed, the tender shoot which otherwise 
 would have sent forth leaf and flower. 
 She is not satisfied, you see, without some 
 plausible explanation for the fact that she 
 so earnestly insists upon. She delights to 
 imagine that I might have been a poet like 
 Mr. Freneau, or a romancer like Brockden 
 Brown, had it not been for "so and so." 
 Ah, doting and transparent one, ever ready 
 to excuse and overlook the shortcomings 
 
 vii
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 of him whose greatest virtue is his love of 
 thee! 
 
 After this preamble, and my frank con 
 fession of the opinion of the person who 
 should know me best, you, gracious reader, 
 will expect nothing more than a plain tale, 
 a straightforward narration, of certain hap 
 penings that chanced to fall under my 
 cognizance at a time when our beloved 
 land was but a nursling in the family of 
 nations, she who is now fast growing to 
 such full stature. 
 
 There are several reasons I might urge 
 for relating the story of my adventures. 
 One, however, will suffice. The peculiar 
 position in which I was placed gave me 
 exceptional opportunity for observing men 
 and events, men whose names are not 
 likely soon to be forgotten, events which 
 long since became a part of history. For 
 a season an onlooker, I was finally a par 
 ticipant in a campaign the importance of 
 which has never been fully realized. That 
 I should shed upon it any new light is ex 
 ceedingly improbable; the most that I can 
 
 viii
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 hope to do is, through the fact of personal 
 contact, to give to it a slight added touch 
 of reality.
 
 12 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Then lowering his voice to a whisper, 
 and thrusting his head forward in so un 
 natural a fashion that a momentary thrill 
 of apprehension shot through me lest the 
 tidings he spoke of had unbalanced him, 
 he continued, 
 
 "There's to be an invasion from the 
 north. The time's come, my boy. We 
 must remain inactive no longer. We must 
 be off and join our friends." 
 
 I had often pictured to myself how I 
 should meet this decision, so long expected 
 and so dreaded. I had rehearsed again 
 and again what remonstrances I should 
 offer. I had imagined with what elo 
 quence I should stand out against it. But 
 now that the words were in my ears I 
 could only say, and that lamely enough, 
 
 " Think of your health, sir ! " 
 
 However strongly other feelings entered 
 into the matter, everything was subordi 
 nate to that consideration. I did not even 
 have the least curiosity in regard to the 
 source of the remarkable information he 
 had communicated.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 13 
 
 " The news has given me new life," was 
 my father's answer to my expostulation, 
 and for the time he certainly did look ten 
 years younger than was his wont. 
 
 Shaking with excitement, his voice still 
 suppressed as though he feared to take 
 even the walls of the room into his confi 
 dence, he now revealed to me how he had 
 come into possession of the stirring tidings. 
 
 It appeared that while walking in his 
 favorite path at the top of the apple or 
 chard early that afternoon he had been 
 attracted by a slight rustling in the elder 
 bushes surrounding a stump at a point 
 where the path bent away across the great 
 meadow toward the Flatts. On approach 
 ing the bushes he discovered an Indian 
 hidden among them. The concealed red 
 skin signed that he had something to com 
 municate, so my father went among the 
 shrubbery, seated himself upon the stump, 
 and listened to the Indian's story. The 
 man proved to be a runner in the employ 
 of Sir John Johnson, and was bearing 
 news to certain trusted persons of Tory
 
 14 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 persuasion farther down the valley of the 
 coming of the baronet and others from 
 Quebec and Montreal. He had been or 
 dered to stop upon his way and urge my 
 father to join the invading force at Buck 
 Island, near the entrance to the St. Law 
 rence, where a rendezvous had been planned 
 for early July. The runner stated that it 
 had been the intention of the leaders to 
 get the expedition under way from Lachine 
 on the 21st of June. It was now the 
 30th. 
 
 "Imagine my delight, Wilton," cried 
 my father, regaining his natural manner as 
 he closed the Indian's narrative, "to dis 
 cover, when I inquired if the baronet were 
 at the head of the invasion, that the com- 
 mander-in-chief is Barry St. Leger!" 
 
 This intelligence was a keen blow to 
 me, for I now saw that all attempts to dis 
 suade my father from setting out to join 
 the invaders were likely to be useless. I 
 had thought, while he was relating the 
 runner's story, that perhaps after the heat 
 of enthusiasm had died away he would
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 15 
 
 listen to my arguments in favor of remain 
 ing quietly at home, and possibly finally 
 be persuaded that this was the course of 
 wisdom. The introduction of St. Leger's 
 name put a different face upon the whole 
 matter. My father and St. Leger had 
 been close friends at Cambridge, and mess 
 mates later, before the health of the former 
 had compelled him to give up the army. 
 The two had not seen one another for 
 twenty years, yet my father preserved the 
 liveliest affection for his college companion, 
 and he, if his occasional letters were to be 
 believed, still held in kindly recollection 
 their youthful comradeship. 
 
 Rumors of Burgoyne's advance had 
 reached us, but the runner's message was 
 our first intimation of the intended descent 
 of a second armament. Being for a mo 
 ment too downhearted to act the part I 
 had previously determined upon in case 
 affairs took an ill turn, I sat speechless and 
 vacant-eyed. My father attributed my 
 silence and dejection to my disapproval of 
 his project on the ground of his health,
 
 16 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 and began striding about the room as 
 though to convince me of his vigor, saying 
 as he did so : 
 
 " You have urged me of late, Wilton, to 
 take a journey, declaring that a change 
 would be of benefit to me. What more 
 admirable opportunity than this ? Bethink 
 you, moreover, of the pleasure of meeting 
 the dearest friend of my youth, and of 
 marching triumphantly down our valley, 
 after giving these rascally rebels the 
 trouncing they so richly deserve ! " 
 
 " In the meanwhile "I began. 
 
 "In the meanwhile," said my father, 
 catching my thought, and taking the words 
 from my mouth, " David and Christina can 
 watch over our interests here. We can 
 give out that family matters call us to 
 New York, slip away under the cover of 
 night, and our inquisitive neighbors who 
 term themselves l patriots' will never be 
 the wiser until St. Leger's victorious forces 
 come down upon them though by that 
 time their courage will no doubt have 
 oozed out and they be swearing fealty to 
 King George."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 17 
 
 I saw how futile it was to make the 
 slightest demur, so answered with the best 
 grace I could feign : 
 
 "It shall be as you wish, sir. When 
 shall we start f" 
 
 "We should hardly be in time for the 
 Buck Island rendezvous," replied my father, 
 "so we need not hasten. We can easily 
 make Oswego in five days." 
 
 He moved toward the door of the small 
 room he had occupied since my mother's 
 death. Hia manner indicated that he still 
 had something to tell me, and I wondered 
 what should cause him to hesitate. At the 
 door he turned, and, casting a deprecating 
 look at me, said : 
 
 " You may as well know before we leave 
 that there are to be Indians." 
 
 "Indians!" I echoed, but he was gone 
 before I could speak further. He was 
 fully aware of my opinion of the policy 
 employed by the crown of enlisting the 
 redskins in the conflict, for on this point 
 I had been outspoken, however carefully 
 I had veiled many of my other sentiments,
 
 18 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 and it was his desire to escape an outbreak 
 on my part that led him to withdraw so 
 hurriedly. 
 
 The atmosphere of the room seemed 
 suddenly to oppress me, so I seized my 
 hat and strode out into the air. In the 
 rear of the house the ground rose to a 
 gentle eminence where three majestic pine 
 trees had been left standing when the 
 place was cleared. Here I had constructed 
 a rough but comfortable seat, and thither 
 I now repaired. There was yet some time 
 to elapse ere the supper hour, and I was 
 glad of the opportunity for thought thus 
 afforded me. 
 
 The sun was fully two hours high above 
 the western hills, and as I sat beneath the 
 stately trees the wide sweep of the valley 
 lay before me like a great garden. A 
 strip of woodland hid the houses of the 
 Flatts, but a thin spiral of smoke indicated 
 their location. It was upon this scene of 
 pastoral peace that the forces of St. Leger 
 and Sir John Johnson, with their attendant 
 horde of savages, were about to descend.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 19 
 
 Though I had never been myself an eye 
 witness of an Indian raid, there were 
 plenty in the vicinity who knew but too 
 well what it meant, and as I now recalled 
 what I had heard from their lips I grew 
 sick at heart. Such fighting did not mean 
 war ; it was sheer butchery. Could I con 
 sent to link my fortunes with men who 
 seemed in my eyes little better than mur 
 derers ? The suggestion was scarcely en 
 durable. My father looked upon the 
 employment of the Indians much in the 
 same light as I did, but his loyalty to the 
 king kept him silent. Should I take a 
 decided stand, speak out my whole mind, 
 and refuse to go, what then ? A result 
 still more harrowing than participation in 
 the prospective invasion confronted me 
 my father's grief, and rage, and the sure 
 effect on him consequent upon these emo 
 tions. At this juncture I bethought me of 
 my promise to my mother, and hencefor 
 ward there was no faltering. I looked 
 Duty unswervingly in the eyes, and called 
 him brother, though truly he was a grim 
 companion to take to one's bosom.
 
 20 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 It may appear strange that my senti 
 ments and those of my father differed so 
 radically. This perhaps may be best ac 
 counted for by the fact that I had been 
 separated from him during some of the 
 most susceptible years of my youth, and 
 had come under the influence of strong 
 characters, men whose views were directly 
 opposed to those which he held. The for 
 tunes of my family had been somewhat 
 checkered. My father was a younger son 
 who had inherited considerable property 
 from a maiden aunt, and had thus been 
 able to follow his own wishes and marry 
 young, indeed, almost immediately on leav 
 ing the university. When ill health had 
 forced him to give up his military career 
 he had followed two of my mother's 
 brothers to the colonies. Finding renewed 
 vigor in the change of climate, he embarked 
 in business in New York and devoted him 
 self with varying success to mercantile pur 
 suits until the spring of 1772, when there 
 came a sudden crash in the financial world. 
 My father saved little from the general
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 21 
 
 wreck save what he had been accustomed 
 jestingly to refer to as his " plantation 
 in the wilderness," a partially cleared 
 tract of land to which he had taken a 
 fancy while delayed for a day on a journey 
 through the interior to Montreal, and which 
 he had acquired for a nominal sum. To 
 this, our present home, he had moved the 
 summer following his business misfortunes. 
 At the time of my father's reverses I 
 was about completing my first year at 
 King's College, and one of my uncles, fan 
 cying he saw in me the making of a law 
 yer, generously offered to be responsible 
 for the completion of my education. Con 
 sequently I had remained behind when my 
 parents turned their backs on civilization. 
 During the three years and a half that 
 elapsed before circumstances forced me to 
 take permanent leave of New York I saw 
 my father but once. This was the forma 
 tive period of my life. My uncle was a 
 man of but few words, yet he thought and 
 felt deeply. His sympathies were strongly 
 with the colonies when serious difficulties
 
 22 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 began to arise with the mother country, 
 and though he never strove to influence 
 me he did so unconsciously. 
 
 It was, however, my intimacy with 
 Alexander Hamilton that had the greatest 
 effect in molding my opinions. Hamilton 
 was one of my fellow-students at King's 
 College, and we were drawn toward one 
 another at our first meeting. Although 
 he was several years my junior he was 
 vastly my superior mentally, and the way 
 he grasped a subject was to me a matter 
 of never-ceasing wonder and admiration. 
 He, on the other hand, though full of ner 
 vous energy was lacking in physical 
 strength, and often spoke with smiling 
 envy of my prowess in all tests where 
 muscular power and endurance were called 
 into play. Especially was he enthusiastic 
 over my kill at sword-play, an exercise in 
 which I had practised from early boyhood 
 with my father, who had once been the 
 champion fencer of his regiment. When 
 Hamilton became interested in the cause 
 of the colonies he drew me headlong after
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 23 
 
 him. Boy though he was at the time, and 
 even more youthful in appearance than in 
 actuality, his arguments seemed to me 
 incontrovertible, as indeed they did a little 
 later when I began to think for myself. 
 I was by his side in the tea affair when 
 Captain Chambers' chests were tumbled 
 into the waters of the harbor, and I was 
 with him, and other students as well, the 
 night the cannon were removed from the 
 Battery in face of the shotted guns of the 
 war-ship Asia. 
 
 But my residence with my uncle and 
 my intercourse with Hamilton were sud 
 denly cut short by news of my mother's 
 serious illness. This was in the autumn of 
 1775, soon after I had begun my law 
 studies. I traveled with all haste into the 
 country, to find that she had rallied, but 
 was never likely to be in firm health again, 
 if indeed she survived the winter. This 
 fact made my return to New York impossi 
 ble, so I settled down in our new home to 
 aid in caring for my mother, and to be of 
 what service I could in looking after affairs
 
 24T THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 about the place. The open warfare which 
 was now in progress between the United 
 Colonies and Great Britain kept my father 
 in a state of feverish excitement, and had 
 it not been for my mother's precarious 
 condition I am sure nothing would have 
 prevented him from offering his services 
 to the crown. As it was, living in a neigh 
 borhood where the Whig sentiment was 
 pronounced, his unrestrained speech made 
 him an object of dislike, if not of hatred. 
 The part I was forced to act was ex 
 ceedingly distasteful. I made known my 
 feelings to my mother, who, I found, sym 
 pathized with me, and counseled me most 
 wisely in regard to my attitude toward 
 my father, whose intense loyalty to the 
 king she understood, and persuaded me was 
 but natural. Though I did not change at 
 heart, as time passed it grew more easy 
 for me to dissimulate, and my father never 
 had cause to suspect my real sentiments. 
 It was entirely owing to my mother's advice 
 and entreaties, however, that he and I 
 came to no bitter words during the months
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 25 
 
 directly following my arrival. At the 
 Flatts, where I made few acquaintances, I 
 passed among Whigs for a Whig-hater and 
 among Tories as one of their own number, 
 not through any expression on my part but 
 because it was so well known where my 
 father stood. There were but two persons 
 besides my mother who were aware of my 
 actual position. 
 
 My mother endured the winter far better 
 than we had feared and we grew quite 
 hopeful during the spring and summer, but 
 with the dull and dark autumn days came 
 a sudden change for the worse and she 
 sank rapidly. During the last weeks of 
 her life I was almost constantly at her 
 side, and it was then I promised her that 
 whatever course my father might pursue 
 in regard to the struggle after she was 
 gone I would not desert him. Under no 
 other circumstances could I, or would I, 
 have given such a promise ; yet, situated as 
 I was, who will say that I should have 
 acted otherwise ? The entreaty in a dying 
 mother's eyes is something no son, possess-
 
 26 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 ing a spark of tenderness or love in his 
 soul, can resist. 
 
 It was mid-November when we buried my 
 mother. The frost had made the bare 
 ground as rigid as iron, there was not a 
 breath of wind, and all day long a flock of 
 crows raised a raucous clamor in the pines 
 behind the house. My father was com 
 pletely broken with grief. Throughout 
 my mother's illness he had refused to allow 
 himself to consider what the end must be, 
 and the final blow seemed to prostrate him 
 quite as much as though it had been unex 
 pected. The day following the burial he 
 was seized with a severe chill ; then a rack 
 ing cough, a trouble from which he had 
 for years been free, took hold upon him 
 and would not be shaken off. It was well- 
 nigh impossible to rouse him from the 
 gloom into which he had fallen, and it 
 seemed as though fate was likely to press 
 the cup of sorrow to my lips a second 
 time. This, however, I was spared, but 
 the effect of the awful depression and 
 desolation of that winter was long in lift/- 
 ing from my spirits.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 27 
 
 "When my father again began to show an 
 interest in the progress of the war it was 
 like a faint rift in the brooding clouds. 
 In April he went several times to the 
 Flatts, and received a few of his acquaint 
 ances among the Tories. Then he ex 
 pressed an eagerness to regain his strength, 
 and very soon it dawned upon me what 
 was in his mind flight to Canada and 
 enlistment in the king's cause. The cough 
 still clung to him, and in May an injudi 
 cious overexertion brought on a slight 
 hemorrhage, but from this he quickly re 
 covered. His intention became daily more 
 clear, though when he hinted at it I made 
 no effort to conceal my disapproval, never 
 giving him occasion to think, however, that 
 my sympathies in the struggle were op 
 posed to his. But there had been no 
 occurrence to precipitate action on his part 
 until the information of the runner fur 
 nished the lacking pretext.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 What Happened on Muster Night 
 
 " ^W" IT TTILTON," said my father, as 
 
 \^/ we rose ^ rom ^ e su PP er 
 V T table, "Van Eyck has a 
 
 small bateau which would be just the thing 
 for our journey. Would it not be well to 
 secure it without delay?" 
 
 "I think it would," I replied, " if go we 
 must.' ' 
 
 To the last words of my answer my 
 father paid no heed, for he continued, 
 
 " You could find Van Eyck this evening, 
 could you not?" 
 
 "Very probably." 
 
 " Suppose you try to. Once we are sure 
 of our boat we can make the other neces 
 sary arrangements at our leisure." 
 
 After a brief discussion in regard to what 
 price we ought to pay for the bateau, since 
 it seemed best to buy it outright, I took up 
 a stout walking-stick and set out for the 
 
 28
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 29 
 
 cabin of the eccentric Dutch Tory, which 
 stood not far from the river-bank, near the 
 rift which bore his name. 
 
 I must confess that I started upon my 
 errand with considerable misgiving. It 
 was muster night at the Flatts, and in 
 order to reach my destination I was obliged 
 to pass the parade-ground, and also Bel 
 linger's store, which was a general meet 
 ing-place after the drill was finished. An 
 encounter with the patriot militia-men was 
 little to my liking, for I knew many of 
 them bore me no good will on account of 
 the views which they assumed I held. It 
 was not that I was timid-hearted and feared 
 personal violence, or cared a jot for any of 
 the jibes they might fling at me, but I 
 detested a brawl, and I was sure there were 
 those who would ask nothing better than 
 to involve me in one. Comforting myself 
 with the thought that it was useless to bor 
 row trouble, and trusting in fortune to see 
 me through without any unpleasantness, 
 I struck into a brisk pace, and was soon 
 beyond the wood which hid the Flatts from 
 view.
 
 30 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Circumstances favored me, for when I 
 drew near the fort and the parade-ground 
 I found the drill was in full swing. Quite 
 a crowd had assembled to witness the 
 maneuvers, which were in charge of one 
 of the officers from the regular troops 
 stationed at the fort, and I slipped by 
 unnoticed. My spirits now rose, for I re 
 flected that I would wait until after dusk 
 had fallen before returning, and thus lessen 
 the chance of a disagreeable encounter. 
 
 I did not find Van Eyck at his cabin, and 
 sat long in the gathering twilight waiting 
 for him. As time elapsed I grew nervous, 
 for I was anxious to take advantage of the 
 darkness before the moon rose; but the 
 moments sped, and still there was no sign 
 of him, and before he finally appeared the 
 moon was silvering the hilltops and the 
 valley. It did not take us long to come to 
 an agreement in regard to the bateau, and 
 I left the Tory with the understanding that 
 he was to conceal the boat among a clump 
 of willows at the mouth of a creek about 
 a quarter of a mile up the river, where we
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 31 
 
 could load her secretly and at our con 
 venience. 
 
 Thus far I had every cause to congratu 
 late myself, and in spite of the fact that 
 the moonlight was unusually brilliant I 
 turned homeward with a springing step. 
 As I approached the Flatts 1 began to en 
 counter militia-men with shouldered mus 
 kets. Many of them did not recognize me, 
 and those who did gave me a surly greet 
 ing. When I drew near Bellinger's store 
 I saw several groups by the roadside, but 
 managed to get by them without exciting 
 comment. If I could but pass Bellinger's 
 without having my progress arrested I 
 knew I had nothing further to fear. 
 
 I might have taken to the fields where 
 a fork leading up the valley joined the 
 main road, but there was a nasty bit of 
 marsh to cross if I did this, and further 
 more, while I desired to avoid being noticed, 
 I would not play the part of a sneak and a 
 coward. 
 
 Seated upon the steps of the store were 
 perhaps a dozen men, laughing and badger-
 
 32 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 ing one another, while half as many in a 
 knot opposite were engaged in more serious 
 conversation. The road was wide, and just 
 before reaching the two groups I left the 
 foot-path and struck into the center of the 
 highway. This was doubtless a foolish 
 move, for I might have slipped past those 
 who were conferring earnestly without 
 attracting their attention, and those op 
 posite could hardly, at that distance, have 
 detected who I was. However, my evident 
 desire to escape recognition drew upon me 
 the eyes of the latter. I realized this, and 
 strove to appear wholly unconcerned, re 
 straining a natural impulse to quicken my 
 stride. I had nearly run the gauntlet when 
 some one on the side of Bellinger's cried 
 out shrilly : 
 
 "A Tory! A Tory!" 
 
 Should I take to my heels ? I acknowl 
 edge the thought flashed into my head, and 
 had I acted without an instant's hesitation 
 I doubt not I could have got off without 
 difficulty, for the way was clear, I should 
 have had a fair start, and it took a man of
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 33 
 
 no mean speed and endurance to catch me 
 in those days. But I put the thought of 
 flight out of my mind, and held to the 
 same pace as before, without noticing the 
 outcry. Other voices immediately caught 
 up the shout, and then two men from the 
 smaller group ran toward me, stretching 
 out their muskets with the intention of 
 barring my way. I managed to elude 
 them only to be confronted by several 
 from Bellinger's. 
 
 "I have no quarrel with you, gentlemen," 
 I said pleasantly ; " be kind enough to let 
 me pass." 
 
 To my request there was no answer. 
 One fellow jostled me and then another, 
 yet I kept my temper, making my way 
 among them, though not without consider 
 able trouble, to the foot-path. Here I was 
 pushed and shoved amid scoffs and jeers, 
 a part of the abuse being in German, which 
 was quite as common as English at the 
 Flatts. Finally their insults became so 
 offensive that my store of patience was 
 exhausted, and seeing a favorable oppor-
 
 34 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 tunity I suddenly knocked a great hulking 
 lout from in front of me, and sprang into 
 the angle made by the jutting wing of an 
 old log cabin. Here I faced my tormen 
 tors, gripping my walking-stick menacingly. 
 For a moment they were speechless at my 
 unexpected action. When they had inter 
 cepted me there had been no concerted 
 plan among them, and probably no inten 
 tion beyond a thought to annoy me. Now, 
 however, when they recovered from then* 
 surprise, there were suggestions in plenty. 
 
 " Wig him ! " yelled one. 
 
 " A rail for him ! ' ' called another. 
 
 "Duck him! duck him!" clamored a 
 third, at which there was a storm of ap 
 proval, and there rose a great outcry, 
 " To the river ! to the river ! 
 
 I set my teeth together and made up 
 my mind that there should be some broken 
 heads before they laid hands upon me, 
 although I realized that, if attacked, I must 
 soon be overpowered. Yet my position 
 was not without its advantages, inasmuch 
 as my assailants were standing in the full
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 35 
 
 flood of the moonlight, while I was in the 
 shadow. The shouts continued, and I could 
 see that those nearest me were preparing 
 for a sudden rush, when a newcomer pushed 
 his way to the front and demanded in a 
 tone of authority: 
 
 "What's all this uproar about?" 
 
 " We 've caged a Tory and we 're going 
 to duck him," some one answered. 
 
 He turned and peered into the obscurity 
 where I stood, starting back as he recog 
 nized my face. It was John Demooth, a 
 lieutenant in the militia, my only intimate 
 friend at the Flatts, one who knew and 
 respected my position. If it were possible 
 for any one to rescue me from my present 
 predicament it was he. 
 
 "You, Aubrey!" he exclaimed in sur 
 prise. I noted, too, that there was an un 
 usual touch of gravity in his voice. 
 
 Suddenly he faced those about him. 
 
 "Who says this man's a Tory?" he de 
 manded. " Which one of you has ever 
 heard him utter Tory sentiments?" 
 
 There was a murmur, but no direct 
 response.
 
 36 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "He's his father's son, isn't he?" called 
 a voice at the edge of the crowd, and the 
 sally was greeted by a hilarious outburst. 
 
 " Let him cheer for General Washington 
 if he wants to save his hide from a wetting," 
 cried one, and the suggestion seemed to 
 meet with universal approbation. 
 
 "Yes, let him cheer," echoed the many. 
 
 Even had there not been my father to 
 consider (and how swiftly would the news 
 have been carried to his ears had I yielded 
 to their demands !) I think nothing under 
 heaven would have wrung the cheers from 
 me at that moment, so thoroughly was my 
 obstinacy aroused, though under some cir 
 cumstances it would have given me the 
 greatest pleasure to shout for General 
 Washington, who was ever in my eyes 
 the perfection of a gentleman and a soldier. 
 
 What would have now occurred I cannot 
 conjecture, had not a more personal turn 
 been given to the affair by the appearance 
 of Heinrich Hcrborn upon the scene. 
 
 Between Herborn and myself there was 
 bad blood. At the house of the Demooths,
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 37 
 
 one winter evening six months earlier, a 
 chance introduction had made me ac 
 quainted with Herborn's half-sister. I had 
 been charmed by her naive manner, her 
 freshness as of the wild flower, her modest 
 beauty, and had sought every occasion that 
 offered to see more of her. Every time I 
 looked upon the delicate flush of her cheeks 
 I seemed to see again the first spray I had 
 ever found of that fragrant spring wilding, 
 the arbutus. It was growing at the edge 
 of a bank of snow, and its faint pink 
 against the colorless background appeared 
 to deepen as I gazed upon it. The maiden's 
 eyes had golden lights at times, and her 
 brown hair rippled into little waves like 
 water stirred by a wooing wind out of the 
 south. 
 
 I discovered that she came often to visit 
 Miss Demooth, and frequently contrived to 
 time my calls so that we met beneath my 
 friend's hospitable roof. From Margaret 
 Wells, for such was the name of this frontier 
 blossom, I gradually learned her family his 
 tory. Her mother, a German woman of
 
 38 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 gentle birth, had married, against the wishes 
 of her parents, an impecunious nobleman 
 who had been driven by stress of circum 
 stances to seek his fortune in America, 
 drifting to the Flatts with others of his 
 countrymen. This was Herborn's father, 
 the prefix von having been detached from 
 the name when its owner deserted the 
 fatherland. Two years after the death of 
 her first husband Margaret's mother had 
 married again, her second choice being a 
 roving Englishman named Wells whom 
 fate had cast at her door sick with a fever. 
 Left again a widow, she had since managed 
 with the assistance of her son, at the time of 
 his stepfather's death a stalwart youth of 
 nineteen, to carry on their by this time 
 considerable estate. 
 
 Young Herborn, now twenty-seven, was 
 two years my senior. Dark and massively 
 built, he was at heart a capital fellow, but 
 such a rabid Tory-hater that he often 
 allowed his feelings to get the better of 
 his good sense. When, at Margaret's in 
 vitation, I had called upon her one evening
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 39 
 
 late in the winter, I was politely received 
 by her mother, who was a woman of most 
 lovable nature, but met with so chilling a 
 reception from her brother that I mentally 
 resolved that it would be long before he 
 had another occasion to treat me so rudely. 
 Encountering him a few days later, he told 
 me plainly that I need not repeat my visit, 
 and that he should resent any of my further 
 attentions to his sister. Fearing that an 
 open quarrel might put an end to all inter 
 course between myself and Margaret, I 
 pocketed my pride and made him an 
 evasive yet courteous answer. 
 
 This episode instead of checking the 
 growing intimacy between Miss Wells and 
 myself tended rather to increase it. As 
 she was a girl of spirit, she naturally re 
 sented what she deemed her brother's un 
 warranted interference. We continued to 
 meet at the Demooth's, and I soon knew 
 her well enough to feel that I could confide 
 to her the secret of my present attitude in 
 regard to the struggle that was in progress. 
 Not long afterward I seized upon a happy
 
 40 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 occasion to reveal to her something that 
 was much nearer to my heart, and the joy, 
 not unmixed with surprise, that was mine 
 to find myself suddenly her accepted lover 
 lifted me for the moment to the very crest 
 of happiness. However, the harmony to 
 which earth just then seemed attuned had 
 for us both its discords. Until there was 
 some decisive turn in the conflict our love 
 must be kept concealed. Her brother and 
 my father had to be reckoned with. 
 
 Two months passed before I again met 
 Herborn face to face. One afternoon in 
 mid-June, as I was returning from an ex 
 cursion on horseback down the river road, 
 I came upon him unexpectedly by the way 
 side talking with a settler whose house 
 stood not far distant. His brow contracted 
 ominously when he saw me, and he moved 
 toward me with so angry an air that I half 
 expected he would attempt to drag me 
 from my horse. He offered me no violence, 
 however, but said, his voice trembling with 
 passion, yet so low that the other could not 
 catch his words:
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 41 
 
 " I hear, you damned Tory whelp, that 
 you have paid no heed to my warning of 
 last winter. Bear in mind, there'll be a 
 day of reckoning, and that soon ! " 
 
 This threat uttered, he turned his back 
 upon me, and I rode on without replying. 
 
 Now, as the crowd made way for him, 
 and he confronted me, I recalled his words 
 of two weeks previous, and realized that 
 however grave the situation had been be 
 fore his arrival, his presence had made it 
 infinitely more serious. Cheers for General 
 Washington, provided I were willing to 
 give them, would hardly satisfy him. 
 
 " Caught like the contemptible cur you 
 are ! " he cried in a most insulting way. 
 
 Demooth endeavored to intervene, but 
 Herborn thrust him aside, saying as he did 
 so : 
 
 " What ! are you turned Tory, John 
 Demooth?" 
 
 Seeing Herborn' s disposal to deal with 
 me single-handed, the crowd drew back 
 and we were left glaring at each other. 
 
 " Will you come out of your hole and
 
 42 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 take a thrashing like a man or stay there 
 and take it like a cur ? " he demanded. 
 
 "Do you mean that you wish to fight 
 me?" 
 
 " That is exactly what I mean ! " 
 
 I threw down my walking-stick and 
 strode toward him. He carried no arms, 
 nor did I, and I knew that he meant a 
 fight with bare fists. 
 
 " Choose your own place," I said calmly, 
 " I am ready." 
 
 I saw my cool manner of accepting his 
 proposal somewhat took aback many of 
 my assailants ; Herborn himself could not 
 conceal his surprise. But in reality it 
 showed no special evidence of bravery on 
 my part. It was simply the easiest way 
 out of what had become a most embarass- 
 ing situation. Herborn was heavier and 
 stronger than I, but I had agih'ty and 
 greater length of arm in my favor. He 
 was evidently confident that he was about 
 to inflict a severe chastisement upon me, 
 yet I did not fear him in the least. 
 
 The place which he selected for our en-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 43 
 
 counter was a grassy plot in the street 
 almost directly in front of Bellinger's store. 
 The night was so warm that I had thrown 
 on only a loose jacket before leaving 
 home ; this I now handed to John De- 
 mooth, who had joined me, and stood ready 
 to meet my opponent. Herborn divested 
 himself of his rough working coat and 
 bared his arms, on which the muscles were 
 tensely knotted. About us the men formed 
 a broken ring. 
 
 My safety depended upon my preventing 
 my antagonist from closing with me. If 
 at the outset he got me into his clutches I 
 knew I should be at his mercy. For some 
 moments I managed adroitly to evade his 
 fierce attack, assuming entirely a defensive 
 attitude, and erelong his rising anger be 
 gan to tell in my favor. Presently he 
 gave way to a black rage ; his lips twitched, 
 and his eyes burned with a vicious light. 
 He taunted me with an oath, saying that 
 I did not dare strike him, and with that 
 flung himself upon me so fiercely that I 
 was all but overwhelmed. I realized that
 
 44 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 the time had come for a change of tactics, 
 and swung at him swiftly with an upper 
 cut that caught him under the chin and 
 brought his teeth together with a snap. 
 As he sprang quickly to one side, evidently 
 expecting me to follow up the attack, I 
 saw my opportunity. 
 
 Had I been pitted against another I 
 might have hesitated, but this man had 
 treated me most shamefully, had needlessly 
 insulted me, and I felt not an atom of com 
 punction in taking any and every advan 
 tage of him. 
 
 An unknown hand, a moment before, had 
 struck up a blaze in a flashing lantern that 
 hung above the store doorway. I realized 
 that if its rays fell full upon the counten 
 ance the eyes must be, for an instant, dazed. 
 Nimbly shifting my position, before Her- 
 born suspected my intention I had him 
 facing the flaring glow. Then I gathered 
 all my strength the energy which I had 
 held in reserve and leaped upon him. 
 Feinting, to add to his confusion, I got by 
 his guard, and fetched him such a swinging
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 45 
 
 buffet behind the ear that he toppled over 
 an almost dead weight, his head striking 
 upon a rock half concealed by the grass. 
 He strove to rise, but sank back gasping, 
 and in a breath half a dozen or more of 
 those about us were bending over him. 
 As I stepped aside Demooth seized my 
 arm, forced my jacket into my hands, and 
 said, as he pushed me from him : 
 " Now 's your chance ! Be off ! " 
 I needed no second bidding. The words 
 had scarcely left his lips before I was away, 
 accordingly I had a good start before my 
 flight was observed. There was an outcry, 
 but little pretense of pursuit, so I halted, 
 when I had put half a hundred yards be 
 tween myself and the scene of my victory, 
 to watch Herborn, who had got upon his 
 feet, stagger toward Bellinger's supported 
 by two of his companions. 
 
 It was in vain that I strove to compose 
 my appearance as I neared home so as not 
 to attract my father's attention. He had 
 become uneasy at my long delay, and the 
 moment I entered the dining-room, where
 
 46 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 we commonly sat in the evening, he scanned 
 me narrowly, while questions and exclama 
 tions of astonishment leaped from his lips. 
 I took one of the candles from the table 
 and examined my face in the glass. Then 
 I was not surprised at his loud expressions 
 of amazement. There was a bruise upon 
 my forehead, an ugly dark look beneath 
 one of my eyes, an unnatural flush upon 
 my countenance, all of which went to 
 show that I had very lately experienced 
 some decidedly rough handling. 
 
 Much as I disliked to do so, knowing 
 how my father's rage was likely to be 
 aroused, I perceived that the easiest way 
 out of the dilemma was to tell him the 
 whole story. Accordingly I seated myself 
 and rehearsed the occurrences of the even 
 ing. Fortunately he did not question me 
 in regard to Herborn's reason for wishing 
 to fight, else I might have found it difficult 
 to give a satisfactory reply and yet keep 
 my secret. He took the rehearsal of my 
 adventure much more calmly than I had 
 anticipated, remarking pointedly that I
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 47 
 
 must now see the impossibility of remain 
 ing longer in the neighborhood, a conclu 
 sion in which I was forced to agree with 
 him. 
 
 We had just begun to discuss plans for 
 our departure when we heard hurried steps 
 without, the door at the side was thrown 
 open, and David sprang into the room. 
 He was well nigh breathless, and shaking 
 with apprehension. 
 
 " Quick ! " he gasped, " by the rear of 
 the house ! Run for the cabin in the 
 woods. They are coming from the Flatts, 
 a score or more, and they swear they will 
 hunt you out of the country.' ' 
 
 I saw by the faithful fellow's manner 
 that there was not an instant to be lost. 
 Catching up a blanket and my father's old 
 army cloak, and thrusting a pair of pistols 
 into my pockets, I hastened my bewildered 
 and enraged parent into the kitchen and 
 toward the rear door of the shed. David 
 called after us, as we ran in the direction 
 of the clustering pines, that he would keep 
 off the Whigs until we had had ample op 
 portunity to reach the woods.
 
 48 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 The door closed and we heard the bar 
 drop into its place. While we paused in 
 the shadow of the trees to get breath we 
 saw plainly, in the moonlight, three forms 
 appear suddenly at one corner of the house, 
 and we knew that in another moment the 
 place would be surrounded.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 The Tryst 
 
 HALF a mile back among the hills, 
 reached by a partially overgrown 
 trail, stood a small cabin that had 
 been used ten years earlier by men en 
 gaged in getting out logs. Thither we now 
 bent our steps. My encounter with Herborn 
 had brought matters to an unexpected pass, 
 and it was clear that we must start Oswego- 
 ward at the earliest possible opportunity. 
 In the meanwhile it seemed best that we 
 should remain in concealment. The cabin in 
 the forest would afford an admirable hiding- 
 place, for it was known to very few at the 
 Flatts, and we should feel perfectly safe in 
 tarrying there until the necessary arrange 
 ments for our departure could be made. 
 
 The moon rode high, so we had but little 
 difficulty in keeping to the pathway. In 
 open spaces the bracken was knee-deep, 
 and we were soon drenched with dew, but 
 the night was so warm that I had no fear 
 
 49
 
 50 THE SON OP A TORY 
 
 any ill effect would come to my father. 
 Now that he had recovered from his indig 
 nation at the boldness of the Whigs he 
 took everything wonderfully well, and 
 quite entered into the spirit of our flight. 
 
 "Wait a few weeks, Wilton," said he, 
 as we paused a moment after crossing a 
 glade, " and we '11 repay them with interest 
 for this evening call." 
 
 After my experience it is hardly to be 
 wondered that I caught some of his spirit, 
 and replied to him that they richly de 
 served whatever was in store for them. 
 However strongly I might sympathize with 
 their side in the public quarrel, I could not 
 excuse them for their treatment of me, 
 though at heart I knew it was my father's 
 outspokenness that had brought the perse 
 cution upon me. 
 
 Reaching the cabin, we began clearing it 
 of the fir boughs left by the last occupants. 
 This task accomplished, we fell to cutting 
 some fresh branches, and soon had a great 
 fragrant pile spread in one corner. Then 
 we sat down upon the threshold in the
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 51 
 
 moonlight to await David, for we knew that 
 he would slip away to us as soon as our 
 troublesome callers had taken themselves 
 off. While David by no means sympathized 
 with my father's views, he was devotedly 
 attached to him. Soon after my father's 
 removal from New York to the frontier, 
 finding David and his wife in painfully 
 straitened circumstances he had done 
 them a great kindness. Since that time 
 the old German had been loud in his ex 
 pression of gratitude. His coming to take 
 charge of our estate proved a blessing in 
 many ways. What we should have done 
 without him in the present predicament it 
 would be difficult to conjecture. An ac 
 knowledged Whig himself, his devotion was 
 the more remarkable. 
 
 It must have been fully an hour before 
 we heard, among the other noises of the 
 night, David's clear whistle come floating 
 up the trail. A few moments later the 
 devoted fellow appeared at the edge of the 
 clearing, puffing under a roll of blankets 
 and a sack of eatables. We welcomed him
 
 52 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 warmly, and bade him, as soon as he 
 caught his breath, enlighten us in regard 
 to his share in the events of the evening. 
 Presently we learned his story. 
 
 It appeared that he had strolled down to 
 the Flatts about dusk, and was returning 
 from a prolonged chat with some of his 
 acquaintances when he was attracted to 
 Bellinger's by the outcries in that vicinity. 
 Arriving soon after my flight, he found 
 Herborn, who had recovered, haranguing 
 a crowd from the steps of the store. A 
 few words sufficed to show David what was 
 likely to be the outcome of the man's 
 exhortations, and he made off as fast as 
 might be to give us warning. His running 
 powers, however, were poor, and the turbu 
 lent Whigs, although they were not aware 
 of it, pressed him closely before he reached 
 the house. Indeed, had it not been for the 
 meadow path, of the existence of which 
 they were ignorant, they might have over 
 hauled them. 
 
 After our escape they had thundered at 
 the doors, demanding instant admission, a
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 53 
 
 demand which David was slow to grant. 
 He parleyed with them at length, giving 
 them voluble assurance that we had left the 
 house without confiding to him our inten 
 tions. But they were disposed to question 
 his word, notwithstanding the fact that 
 they knew him for a good Whig, and 
 finally insisted on searching the place for 
 themselves. At last he consented to admit 
 them, and they ransacked room after room, 
 doing not a little damage in their chagrin 
 at not finding us, and leaving with threats 
 of making a public example of us should 
 we be so bold as to return. What their 
 intentions really were, if we did venture to 
 show ourselves, David did not hazard an 
 opinion. 
 
 When David's recital of what had 
 occurred was finished, my father announced 
 that we had decided to turn our steps tow 
 ard Oswego as soon as it was practicable. 
 While our good friend and servant deplored 
 our decision, and doubted the necessity for 
 such a move, saying in a day or two the 
 hotheads would have cooled their tempers,
 
 54 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 he readily consented to aid us in our 
 preparations. It was then agreed that 
 David and I should hegin to provision the 
 boat on the following night. In the mean 
 while I proposed to venture through the 
 woods to Thompson's (a Tory house where 
 there were several men) in search of 
 recruits. At our request David consented 
 to see Van Eyck on the following day with 
 the purpose of persuading him to join us. 
 We realized that if he could be induced 
 to take this step he would prove a most 
 valuable acquisition, for he was skilled as 
 as a woods-man as well as a water-man. 
 We were unanimous in thinking that when 
 he heard of the evening's happenings he 
 would be glad of the opportunity to remove 
 himself from the danger of a like visita 
 tion. We were careful in this conference 
 with David to let fall no word in regard to 
 St. Leger or the baronet and their plans. 
 
 In spite of our enforced exile, the next 
 five days passed rapidly. Van Eyck's co 
 operation was secured, while the two Thomp 
 son boys swelled our party to the desired
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 55 
 
 number. The boat was provisioned, and a 
 rendezvous arranged for the night of the 
 7th. On the morning of the day previ 
 ous I entrusted David with a missive to 
 John Demooth bidding him be on the look 
 out for me an hour after nightfall. I also 
 besought him to see Margaret and tell her 
 that I would be in hiding in the shrubbery 
 at the foot of her mother's garden as near 
 as might be to half past nine. I realized 
 that I was running great risks in making 
 this venture, for David had informed me 
 that Herborn was on the alert, the impres 
 sion prevailing among the Whigs that we 
 were concealed in the vicinity. One thing, 
 however, I was determined upon go 
 Oswego-ward I would not without attempt 
 ing to see Margaret, and without endeavor 
 ing to confide to my friend Demooth the 
 danger that menaced the Flatts and the 
 valley. 
 
 For the first time since our sojourn in 
 the cabin the hours dragged wearily. Since 
 we had taken up our primitive quarters my 
 father had borne all discomforts with a
 
 56 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 patience hardly characteristic of him, and 
 now while I moved uneasily about the 
 clearing, flicking off with a birch goad the 
 fern tops and half-rippened berries, he 
 paced calmly up and down in the shade, 
 his features wholly unruffled. 
 
 Much to my relief the sky became over 
 cast as evening drew on, and about an hour 
 after our frugal supper, under the pretext 
 of seeing David and taking counsel with 
 him, I set out down the trail. In parting 
 from my father I bade him not to be 
 alarmed if I did not return until late, for 
 another trip to the boat might prove neces 
 sary in case anything had been over 
 looked. The heavens threatened rain and 
 the shadows deepened more swiftly than 
 usual, so that by the time I reached the 
 edge of the forest it was quite dusk. At 
 the house David was on the watch for my 
 coming. Having learned that my message 
 had been delivered to Demooth, and that 
 there were, so far as David was aware, no 
 new developments at the Flatts, I told him 
 to come to the cabin on the morrow for a
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 57 
 
 final consultation, and hastily retraced my 
 steps to the verge of the woodland. 
 
 My path now led me southward along the 
 margin of the cleared land in the direction 
 of a stream called by the Indians the Slant 
 ing Waters. Approaching this, I found 
 myself below the Flatts. Here I changed 
 my course, and following the trend of a 
 snake fence soon reached the property of 
 the Demooths. As I neared the out-build 
 ings of the farmstead I heard the sound of 
 horses' hoofs and the murmur of voices. 
 Although there was a strange brightness 
 in the upper air where the moonlight lit 
 up a lift in the massing vapors, everything 
 below was indistinct, so I slipped without 
 fear along the lane, past the cow-sheds, and 
 peered through the bars of the great gate 
 into the yard surrounding the house. As 
 I did so a door swung back, and in the fan 
 of light emitted I saw three men dismount 
 ing from their horses. In the sturdy figure 
 of one I recognized the brigadier, Nicholas 
 Herkimer. The elder Demooth, lantern 
 in hand, came out to meet them, and
 
 58 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 I then discovered half a dozen other 
 horses picketed near. I had inadvertently 
 stumbled upon a meeting of the Whig 
 leaders. 
 
 Clearly there was no chance of seeing 
 my friend, so I beat a hasty retreat into 
 the fields, devoutly hoping that Herborn 
 made one of the company. Yet I knew 
 this was hardly likely. The presence of 
 General Herkimer indicated that it was a 
 gathering of older and wiser heads. 
 
 As I turned my steps toward the home 
 of my sweetheart I began to wonder why 
 John had not warned me of this gathering, 
 and could only conclude that he had been 
 kept in ignorance of it until too late to get 
 me word. If I had the good fortune to 
 see Margaret, I resolved to confide in her 
 the intentions of the invaders, and bid her 
 transmit the information to my friend. 
 
 I approached the Herborn place the 
 estate still bore the name of the original 
 owner with the greatest caution. Making 
 a wide detour I crept toward the shrubbery, 
 where I intended to conceal myself, with
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 59 
 
 all the stealth of an Indian. Once ! 
 Margaret and I had met here, and the 
 ground was hence not wholly unfamiliar. 
 A pathway led from the house to the foot 
 of the garden, where a stone stile gave 
 access to a marshy meadow beyond which 
 flowed the Slanting Waters. 
 
 Crouching close to the ground, I followed 
 the line of a stone wall until I came to the 
 stile. Here I paused to reconnoiter. The 
 frogs were in full chorus, and far away 
 riverward a plover was plaintively crying. 
 Near me there was no sound not a violin 
 note from a katydid or cricket a fact that 
 aroused my suspicions. Reminding myself 
 that these familiar noises are often wanting 
 when a storm is imminent, I climbed softly 
 over the stile and slid into the bushes 
 upon one side of the pathway. As I did 
 so I fancied I detected a rustle among the 
 shrubbery not far distant, but hearing 
 nothing further I concluded my imagina 
 tion had tricked me. My senses were now 
 painfully alert, and for half an hour I 
 lay in motionless suspense. Once a twig
 
 60 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 snapped, and I thought a foe was upon me. 
 At last I caught the low click of a latch, 
 and a hinge creaked faintly. Raising my 
 self upon one knee I vainly strove to pierce 
 the gloom. My excitement was such that 
 I seemed to hear suspicious noises in every 
 cranny and hollow about me, and yet I had 
 no fear, so intent was I upon getting sight 
 of the form that I had hoped every instant 
 would take shape in the darkness. There 
 was a footfall, another, and another, light, 
 fleet, unmistakably feminine. I started to 
 my feet and stepped out upon the pathway. 
 The footfalls ceased. 
 
 "Wilton!" called a suppressed voice 
 apprehensively. 
 
 "Margaret!" I said, and then I had the 
 dear girl in my arms. She was all a-tremble, 
 and cried out as she responded to my caress : 
 
 "You musn't stop a moment ! Heinrich 
 suspects you are coming, for he saw John 
 speaking with me this morning, and has 
 watched me ever since." 
 
 "Where is your brother?" I asked, draw 
 ing her toward the stile.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 61 
 
 " I don't know where he may be now. I 
 left him with my mother a few moments 
 ago, saying I was going to my room ; then 
 I stole down the rear stairs and out at the 
 shed door." 
 
 Hardly had she spoken when there was a 
 shrill whistle from behind the stile, not more 
 than a dozen feet from where we stood. 
 Margaret clutched my arm as she strove to 
 suppress a cry of terror. Herborn's voice 
 in the direction of the house replied to the 
 whistle, and there was the crash of a heavy 
 body plunging through the bushes on our 
 right. It was no time for lingering fare 
 wells, but I gave my beloved one passionate 
 embrace, whispering, as I kissed her, 
 
 "Good-by, dearest. I'm off for Oswego 
 tomorrow. Don't fear; they sha'n't catch 
 me!" 
 
 Then I pushed her gently from me, and, 
 after an instant's hesitation, she ran toward 
 the house as though she would intercept 
 her brother. 
 
 At this moment a man sprang down from 
 the stile; the plunging form in the bushes
 
 62 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 was almost upon me ; and I knew Herborn 
 was rapidly approaching along the pathway. 
 I saw that I was in desperate plight, and 
 there was no time to debate which way I 
 should fly. On the left of the garden was 
 a dry ditch, beyond which was a row of bram 
 bles flanked in turn by a high paling. 
 Toward these obstructions I made a bold 
 dash, two of my pursuers hot after me. I 
 took the ditch at a flying leap, landed fairly, 
 but floundered among the briers. Recover 
 ing myself, I gripped the top of the paling 
 just as the feet of one of the men struck 
 the earth behind me. My heart sank, yet I 
 vaulted with mad energy. A thorny withe 
 tore a great rent in my breeches, and my 
 heels came in contact with a pair of arms, 
 so instead of wholly clearing the obstruction 
 I struck the top of it, and sprawled, bruised 
 and half breathless, in the tall grass on the 
 other side. To my pursuers the fence 
 proved a troublesome obstacle, so I had a 
 few seconds in which to recover myself, and 
 as the first of them cleared the barrier I 
 sped away as fast as my legs would carry
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 63 
 
 me in the direction of the Slanting Waters. 
 The field in which I found myself was 
 similar to that in the rear of the garden a 
 meadow, marshy and uneven. At any 
 moment I might stumble into a bog-hole, 
 in which case I could hardly avoid falling 
 into the hands of Herborn and his compan 
 ions, who, now little more than twenty yards 
 distant, were straining every nerve to over 
 take me. My bruises proved troublesome, 
 and I began to realize that I was losing 
 ground. This discovery incited me to 
 renewed exertion, and presently I forgot 
 my lameness and had the satisfaction of 
 knowing that I was drawing ahead again. 
 It was at this stage of my flight that I 
 encountered the first bit of marshy land. 
 Trusting blindly to fortune, I crossed it by 
 a series of flying leaps, considerably widen 
 ing the gap between myself and those who 
 were in chase. My advantage was only 
 temporary, however, for I was well-nigh 
 mired shortly afterward in another watery 
 depression. But Herborn's exclamation, 
 "We've got him!" acted as a spur, and
 
 64 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 once on firm ground the proximity of the 
 stream, as revealed by the dark line of trees, 
 gave me hope. 
 
 At this juncture I certainly fell upon 
 luck, for I came on the Slanting "Waters at 
 an opening in the dense foliage that fringed 
 it, and at a spot where the bank, in most 
 places precipitous or abruptly shelving, 
 sloped gently. The current swept by, swift 
 and deep, swollen by severe thunder-storms 
 in the upland wilderness which the creek 
 drained. Indeed at this point a quarter 
 of a mile from where it debouched into the 
 Mohawk the stream had the appearance 
 of a river. The water was washing high 
 upon the stones beyond a four-foot strip of 
 sand. The instant my feet came in con 
 tact with the cobbles an idea that missed 
 little of being an inspiration flashed into 
 my brain. I knew my three pursuers must 
 be within hearing, so I seized and pitched 
 several large stones, one quickly after the 
 other, into the water. The effect produced 
 was that of some one plunging into the 
 stream. Then I ran a few steps along the
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 65 
 
 sand to a spot where the bank began to 
 rise sharply, and wormed myself under the 
 overhanging roots and earth. Here I dis 
 covered a dry cavity worn by the action of 
 the ice in some springtime freshet a most 
 secure hiding-place. 
 
 Hardly had I esconced myself before 
 there was a rush of feet hard-by. 
 
 "Curse him!" panted the first comer, 
 "he's taken to the water." 
 
 "Are you sure?" demanded Herborn, 
 who was the second to arrive upon the scene. 
 
 "Sure! Didn't you hear him leap in?" 
 
 "I did!" cried the third of my pursuers. 
 
 They hurried past my place of conceal 
 ment, and I knew they were peering into 
 the darkness, straining their eyes to catch 
 a glimpse of me. 
 
 "Do you see anything?" asked Herborn. 
 
 "I thought I did, but it's only a log," 
 replied the one whom he had addressed. 
 "It's the devil of a pity we haven't a flint." 
 
 This remark gave me a thrill of relief. 
 My greatest fear had been that they would 
 have the means of striking a light.
 
 66 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 And now there happened one of the 
 weirdest things that has come under my 
 cognizance. Seemingly out of the stream 
 not far distant, where there was a wide 
 bend, there arose an agonizing cry that 
 died away into a gurgling moan. It must 
 have been the sound made by some strayed 
 animal of the wilds, or some swamp-bird in 
 distress, and have proceeded from the wood 
 land beyond the Slanting Waters, but to me, 
 and to the three men on the shore, it was 
 like the despairing wail of a human crea 
 ture. 
 
 "By God!" shouted Herborn, "he's got 
 in the eddies yonder, and is drowning!" 
 
 I knew by the silence that followed that 
 they were listening intently, and strained 
 my ears to catch a repetition of the cry, 
 but none came. 
 
 "He's done for!" said one of the other 
 two presently. "That's a cursedly ugly 
 spot over there. I've often noticed it: 
 steep bank, and a mighty deep hole under 
 it." 
 
 "Well, I'd no wish nor intention to drive
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 67 
 
 the fellow to his death," remarked Her- 
 born, "though he was a Tory." 
 
 They lingered a few moments, listening, 
 and saying little. Finally I heard them 
 climb the bank, and then the only audible 
 noise was the hoarse swash of the current. 
 They believed me drowned, that was clear, 
 and while Herborn might, in a half-hearted 
 fashion, regret that he had been indirectly 
 the means of my end, he would hardly fail to 
 report my fate to Margaret. I was well con 
 tent to remain dead for the present so far 
 as Herborn and most of the Whigs were 
 concerned, but the knowledge that my be 
 loved would mourn for me caused me for 
 a space no little disturbance of mind. Then 
 the thought came to me that I could assure 
 her of my safety through David and John 
 Demooth, and so, through the thin rain 
 which had begun falling, I set out buoyantly 
 for our refuge in the woodland cabin.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 In the Wilderness 
 
 I WAS forced to move slowly, the dark 
 ness had so increased, and it was hard 
 upon midnight ere I reached the trail 
 through the forest. Here new difficulties 
 beset my path, owing to the denseness of 
 the gloom, and I lost my way half a dozen 
 times before I came to the slope at the crest 
 of which the cabin stood. To my infinite 
 surprise a flickering light shone from the 
 doorway, and I hastened forward in appre 
 hension. Attracted by the noise of my 
 approach, a man appeared upon the 
 threshold, shading his eyes so that he 
 might pierce the thick shadows. As I 
 drew nearer I recognized him as Silas, the 
 elder of the Thompson boys. 
 
 "Hello ! " he cried, half raising the rifle 
 he held in his hand. "Who is it?" 
 
 "'Tis I, Wilton Aubrey," I replied. 
 
 " We 've been waiting for you these two 
 hours," said he, as he grasped my hand. 
 
 68
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 69 
 
 My father and Will Thompson now joined 
 us, and there was a series of questions and 
 counter-questions. 
 
 " Did you see Van Eyck?" the Thomp 
 sons demanded, taking it for granted that 
 I had been to the boat. 
 
 "No; I wonder where he can be?" I 
 said, feeling my ground a little. 
 
 " Silas had word from him late this even 
 ing," interposed my father, " that the Whigs 
 have discovered we are hiding here and 
 are planning to surprise us to-morrow. It 
 is Van Eyck's advice that we get off 
 to-night." 
 
 "He said he 'd be on hand at the boat at 
 two o'clock," put in Will Thompson. '' We 
 sha'n't be much late if we start at once." 
 
 Then he added, turning to me : 
 
 " We 'd have left before, but were afraid 
 of missing you." 
 
 " There 's nothing to delay us now," said 
 my father. 
 
 " But David ! " I exclaimed, having in 
 mind my message to Margaret. 
 
 " Oh, he will understand why we have
 
 70 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 hastened away, never fear ! And there are 
 really no further instructions to give him. 
 I can 't see that it matters a whit." 
 
 Although my father intended thus to dis 
 miss the matter of David, I resolved, inas 
 much as the most direct route to the boat 
 would take us past the house, that I would 
 rouse our faithful servitor and have a word 
 with him. 
 
 The possessions we intended to carry 
 were collected, Will Thompson took from 
 its cranny the half-burned pine torch, and 
 our little company started. We agreed 
 that until we neared the cleared land 
 there would be no danger in the lighted 
 flambeau. The rain was still falling, but 
 it had not perceptibly increased in force, 
 and, for the present, protected much of 
 the time by the trees, it caused us but 
 trifling inconvenience. 
 
 After the torch had been extinguished 
 and we had come to the three pines in the 
 rear of our home, I made known my deter 
 mination to speak with David. My father 
 and both the Thompsons demurred, but I
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 71 
 
 was stubborn, and they finally consented 
 to a brief halt. 
 
 I know not what impelled me to approach 
 the house cautiously, but certainly it proved 
 most fortunate that I did so. Thinking I 
 detected a noise near the rear doorway, 
 I paused by the well-sweep and listened. 
 I had about decided that I had been deceived 
 by my imagination when a man rose from 
 the doorstep and moved toward me. I was 
 so startled that for an instant I had no 
 power of action. When I recovered from 
 my surprise I crouched close to the earth, 
 and presently the man stopped. 
 
 "Umph!" I heard him say. "I must 
 have been dreaming. I thought I saw 
 something moving out here." 
 
 He yawned, stretched himself, and shuf 
 fled back to his post of observation, while I, 
 with all possible care, retreated and joined 
 my waiting companions. 
 
 "We must be on our guard," I an 
 nounced ; " the house is watched." 
 
 " They suspect David now that they 
 know you are still in the neighborhood," 
 said Silas Thompson.
 
 72 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 As we warily made our way to the river, 
 the realization that I must leave the Flatts, 
 for I knew not how long a period, without 
 sending any message to Margaret came upon 
 me with full force, and the thought was 
 bitter indeed. Others, doubtless, would 
 warn the valley in due tune of the ap 
 proach of St. Leger and his forces, but 
 there would be no one to bear to my 
 beloved the assurance of my safety. Forced 
 by circumstances into a position I abhorred, 
 racked in mind and exhausted in body, it 
 is small wonder that despair took hold upon 
 me, and I cared little whether I was living 
 or dead. I gave no heed to the irascible 
 Dutchman's complaints at our late arrival, 
 and had to be roused by a sharp word from 
 my father to do my part in getting the 
 boat under way. 
 
 Our craft was built after the model of the 
 large river bateaux. It was flat-bottomed 
 and equipped with both poles and oars. 
 There were traverse seats, as in an ordi 
 nary row boat, and along the sides, a foot 
 or more below the gunwale, a plank was
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 73 
 
 stretched on which to stand while punting. 
 Though ugly in appearance the boat was 
 stanch, and we had nothing to fear either 
 from snags or sharp rocks. 
 
 I can recall little that happened during 
 the first hours of our journey. Van Eyck, 
 at the prow, kept a sharp lookout ahead, 
 shouting back his commands to my father, 
 who was steering. The other three of us 
 relieved one another at the oars. When 
 rowing I bent to my work doggedly, though 
 my muscles ached and my head was in a 
 whirl ; when it was my turn to rest I lay in 
 a kind of stupor on the canvas of the tent. 
 Toward morning the weather cleared, and 
 the sun had risen before we drew into a 
 little cove and beached our boat. So over 
 come was I with fatigue that I flung my 
 self upon the grass beneath a great syca 
 more, and was soon in a profound slumber. 
 When roused for breakfast I ate mechani 
 cally, and then stretched myself out and 
 fell asleep again. It was mid-afternoon 
 before I awakened. I was stiff, and there 
 there was a queer feeling in my head, but
 
 74 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 on stirring about this passed away. I found 
 Van Eyck preparing to cook some bacon 
 over a glowing bed of coals; the Thompson 
 boys were making the few additional pre 
 parations for our primitive meal, while my 
 father, the picture of content, was reclining 
 upon a blanket and watching the proceed 
 ings with a lively interest. 
 
 Our next halt was at twilight, but we 
 hastened on again as soon as the moon rose. 
 Toward morning we once more encamped, 
 and rested till the following midday, when 
 we continued our voyage until we reached 
 the mouth of Six Mile Creek, about two 
 miles and a half from Fort Stanwix, the 
 point of portage to Wood Creek, the old 
 " carrying-place " of the Indians. To avoid 
 being seen and detained by the garrison of 
 the fort we must make the portage after 
 dark, and midnight seemed the most suit 
 able hour for the attempt. It was about 
 eleven when we pushed our boat into mid 
 stream. A brisk south breeze was blowing, 
 and clouds were racing across the face of 
 the moon. There was no need of proceed-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 75 
 
 ing with caution until we approached the 
 spot where bateaux commonly landed. This 
 was some distance from the fort, but inas 
 much as we thought it quite possible we 
 might find guards here stationed we scanned 
 the shore narrowly as we drew near. A 
 bittern rose from the reeds close at hand 
 and whirred away with an angry boom. 
 For the moment we were startled, but the 
 presence of the bird made it clear that 
 there were no watchers to be feared, so we 
 hastened partially to unload our boat, 
 bestowing a portion of our possessions in 
 the canvas of the tent. Although two 
 journeys were necessary, we accomplished 
 the portage easily and without incident, 
 thanks to Van Eyck's perfect familiarity 
 with the ground. While we silently passed 
 and repassed near the fort, I gazed at 
 its dark outline and wondered how soon, 
 and under what circumstances, I should 
 visit the scene again, little dreaming how 
 many dramatic episodes were here shortly 
 to be enacted, and how prominent a part I 
 was destined to take hi them.
 
 76 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Owing to the excitement and to the nov 
 elty of our experiences, now that I had 
 recovered from the strain of my night's ad 
 ventures by the Slanting Waters, I had 
 somewhat regained my spirits, though I 
 could never long banish Margaret from my 
 mind, and at times the thought of her, 
 nearly distraught as my fancy pictured 
 her over my wretched end, seemed more 
 than I could bear. 
 
 Wood Creek, the stream on which we 
 now embarked, was as strange a water 
 course as ever man adventured upon. It 
 was narrow and incredibly serpentine, 
 bending back upon itself until it seemed 
 as though we made no progress whatever. 
 Moreover it traversed a swampy region, 
 much of which was overgrown by a well- 
 nigh impenetrable forest. Our advance 
 was marked with infinite labor. Now we 
 stuck upon a snag ; now we were grounded 
 upon a mud-bank ; now we were halted by 
 a matted mass of reeds. Huge and un 
 couth birds, roused from their slumbers, 
 would wing away with raucous cries j
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 77 
 
 animals of the wilderness would sound a 
 sudden summons to us from out of the 
 gloom, until my father and myself, unac 
 customed to these weird and uncanny 
 noises, began to feel that we had come 
 into a land of demons. 
 
 Presently we wholly lost sight of the 
 sky, interlacing vines and overhanging 
 boughs shut out the moonlight, and we 
 were forced to kindle a blaze of pine knots 
 in one of our iron pans. Placing this im 
 provised torch in the prow, we worked 
 slowly forward, yet when the gray of 
 dawn began to show we had progressed 
 but a few miles into the dreary waste. 
 Never, I vow, was the light of morning 
 more welcome, and as soon as we were 
 able to see the nature of the ground about 
 us we selected a dry spot and encamped. 
 
 I had been unconscious a number of 
 hours when I was awakened by the tor 
 menting attacks of gnats and mosquitoes. 
 After vainly trying to fight them off, I got 
 upon my feet, and, finding my companions 
 still slumbering, walked on tiptoe until I
 
 78 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 had put a short distance between us, and 
 then strolled on into the woods which, at 
 this point, were not dense. I had no 
 special thought in mind save to rid myself 
 from the pestering insects, and had no 
 notion of wandering any distance, for I 
 realized in how dangerous a predicament I 
 should be if I chanced to lose my way. 
 I had gone as far as seemed wise, and was 
 on the point of turning back when I came 
 upon a grassy space, bare of trees, through 
 which ran a well-beaten trail. 
 
 Indians! The sight of the trail put them 
 instantly into my mind, and a sensation of 
 danger swept over me which amounted to 
 nothing short of instinct. In breathless 
 haste I concealed myself behind a tangle 
 of wild berry bushes that grew on one side 
 of the path, and it was well I did so, for I 
 had little more than crouched down when 
 out of the forest issued a band of savages 
 in single file, hideously painted and well 
 armed. Two of them had fresh scalps 
 dangling at their belts, and I was horrified 
 to see that a white man wearing the buff
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 79 
 
 and blue uniform of a Continental soldier 
 was marching in their midst, their prisoner. 
 He was gagged, his hands were tied behind 
 him, and there was a look upon his face 
 that would have moved the stoniest heart 
 to compassion. One Indian was leading 
 him by a leathern noose which was fastened 
 about his neck, while another behind kept 
 prodding him viciously with a hunting 
 knife. There were twenty in the band, 
 and they passed me like so many evil 
 shadows. 
 
 As they vanished in the forest I slipped 
 from my concealment and watched them 
 until a turn in the trail shut them from 
 sight. What madness possessed me, what 
 blind recklessness seized me, I know not, 
 but with scarcely an instant's hesitation I 
 crept after them. Never did it occur to 
 me that to rescue the poor wretch from the 
 clutches of the savages was a wild impossi 
 bility, something that half a dozen experi 
 enced woodsmen would have hesitated to 
 attempt. The awful anguish written upon 
 the soldier's face was burned into my brain,
 
 80 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 and more and more determined to succor 
 him did I become as I followed the foot- 
 steps of his captors. 
 
 Careful to keep far enough in the rear to 
 avoid the danger of discovery, at length, 
 after having been perhaps a quarter of a 
 mile upon their track, I saw that they had 
 reached their camping - place. We had 
 drawn away from Wood Creek to higher 
 ground. The trees in the vicinity were 
 largely maples and hemlocks, and as the 
 latter were of the scrub variety I had an 
 excellent opportunity to approach the en 
 campment, as I supposed, unobserved. 
 Abandoning the trail, I advanced with the 
 greatest caution, and had almost arrived at 
 a point where I could detect what the red 
 skins were about when the swish of a re 
 leased bough caused me to look back. 
 There, little more than a dozen feet distant, 
 stood an Indian, tomahawk in hand, a grin 
 of triumph on his hideous features. I was 
 too amazed to move or speak, and the 
 mouth of the savage widened as he regarded 
 me. Then something so surprising occurred
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 81 
 
 that my expression must have changed 
 suddenly, for the Indian's suspicions were 
 aroused. From behind a thick scrub hem 
 lock the slim and sinewy form of Van Eyck 
 appeared like an apparition. As unerring 
 as ever panther sprang he leaped upon the 
 redskin, before the savage had time to 
 turn. One set of powerful fingers gripped 
 the Indian's throat and stifled his cry for 
 aid; the other seized the wrist of the hand 
 which held the tomahawk, and the weapon 
 dropped useless to the earth. 
 
 "Quick! " cried Van Eyck, in an under 
 tone, as he laid the half-strangled savage on 
 the ground, " take his knife and cut his leg 
 gings into strips. We must bind him." 
 
 I did as commanded with as much expe 
 dition as my shaking hands would permit, 
 and together we secured and gagged our 
 captive. 
 
 "He'll free himself after a few hours, if 
 they don't find him before then," said Van 
 Eyck. " In the meanwhile this is no place 
 for us." 
 
 I realized but too well the truth of this
 
 82 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 statement, although the thought of the 
 poor soldier still tugged at my heart. Do 
 ing as Van Eyck bade, I followed in his 
 footsteps, and ere long we stood in the 
 grassy space where I had first seen the red 
 skins. Here my rescuer paused and looked 
 at me quizzically, his grim, swarthy fea 
 tures gradually changing into something 
 like a smile. Presently he thrust his long 
 lean finger at me. 
 
 "Young man," he said, in his curious 
 broken English, which it would be impos 
 sible to reproduce, "let me give you a 
 grain of advice, and do you treasure it up, 
 for old Van Eyck knows what he 's talking 
 about. Whatever else you fool with, let a 
 red * Injun' alone. You may think the 
 dirty rascals are with us in this struggle, 
 but I tell you if they found you spying on 
 their camp friend or foe they'd cut you 
 up and feed you to their dogs. To an 
 ( Injun* a white man's a white man, and 
 however pretty the cusses may talk to your 
 face they'll scalp you on the quiet if they 
 get the chance, and I reckon you'd rather
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 83 
 
 know your scalp's on your own head than 
 drying in a wigwam, even if it's that of the 
 biggest chief of the Six Nations." 
 
 This speech delivered, the wisdom and 
 truth of which I had occasion to recall 
 later, Van Eyck led on again, and it was 
 not until afterwards that I learned how he 
 had chanced to come so opportunely to 
 my assistance. Awakening soon after I 
 strolled away from our camping place, he 
 had noted my absence, and fearful lest I 
 should become lost in the forest had traced 
 my steps to the Indian trail. Surmising 
 what I had done, he set hastily out in pur 
 suit, detected the savage (probably a strag 
 gler belonging to the band) hard upon my 
 heels, and doubtless saved me from a very 
 harrowing experience, if not from death. 
 
 We found my father and the two Thomp 
 sons in a state of wonder and anxiety. 
 
 " We 've just been into the woods a bit," 
 said Van Eyck in response to their inquiries. 
 " We've seen some i Injun' signs " here 
 he screwed one eye around and winked 
 slyly at me " and we might better be 
 getting along."
 
 84 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Fortunately the soldiers of the garrison at 
 Fort Stanwix had not as yet been able to do 
 much toward obstructing Wood Creek, ow 
 ing to the presence of the Indians, and after 
 an hour or two our progress was quite en 
 couraging, a fact that was in part due to the 
 gradually widening channel. I own that I 
 was far from comfortable during the remain 
 der of that day, and I saw that Van Eyck 
 was apprehensive, for he kept watch of the 
 wooded banks with a lynx-like scrutiny. 
 Our voyage, however, was uninterrupted, 
 and when, late that evening, we camped 
 upon the shore of Oneida Lake, on the far 
 ther side of Fish Creek, I felt for the first 
 time since my narrow escape something like 
 security. 
 
 But the fair fortune that had thus far at 
 tended us on our journey deserted us on the 
 following day. Late in the afternoon, as 
 we were approaching the lower end of the 
 lake, we were overtaken by a severe 
 thunder-storm, our boat was nearly swamped, 
 and we were all of us drenched to the skin. 
 Then came a sudden change in the atmos-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 85 
 
 phere. The wind, which had been blow 
 ing from the south all day, materially assist 
 ing our progress, veered swiftly to the 
 west. The air grew more and more chilly 
 as night descended, and by the time we 
 reached the deserted walls of Fort Brewer- 
 ton we were every one of us, in our still 
 soaking clothing, shaking with the cold. 
 
 In one of the cabins formerly used as the 
 officers' quarters we kindled a great fire in 
 the rude stone fire-place, and spread out 
 our wet garments to dry. I gave my father 
 a vigorous rubbing, brewed him a hot 
 drink, and wrapped him in a pair of blan 
 kets that had escaped the general deluge. 
 In spite of these precautions, before an 
 hour had passed he was in a high fever. 
 Thus he lay for several days, while I strove 
 to keep a brave heart, knowing all the 
 time that his condition was most critical, 
 and seeing by the manner of my compan 
 ions that they shared in my anxiety. Only 
 when forced to do so from exhaustion did I 
 leave my father's side, and then he had 
 from my comrades the same watchful care
 
 86 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 which I gave him. I suffered more during 
 these hours of uncertainty than later when 
 I had to confront sorrow face to face. My 
 trying and unnatural position was forgot 
 ten ; even my grief over leaving my sweet 
 heart under such a gloomy cloud became 
 as naught. I seemed to see my father, 
 who had ever cherished me so fondly, and 
 for whom I had the warmest affection 
 despite our differences, wasting away before 
 me. The last strong tie of blood that 
 bound me to my kind was, to all appear 
 ance, about to be severed. 
 
 But the fever left him unexpectedly ; his 
 old energy and stubbornness reasserted 
 themselves, and one morning when I was 
 discussing with Van Eyck outside our quar 
 ters the feasibility of resuming our journey 
 after two or three days' further waiting my 
 father called me to him and proposed that 
 we start at once. This proposition at first 
 struck me as the height of folly, but after 
 the matter had been talked over with the 
 others we decided to venture it. The inva 
 lid throve under the change, and on the
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 87 
 
 afternoon of the 18th of July we disem 
 barked at the rude landing-place at Oswego, 
 and took up our abode in one of the dis 
 used traders' houses within a stone's throw 
 of the fort.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 At Oswego 
 
 JUST before noontime on the third day 
 after our arrival I ascended to the 
 summer-house which the energetic 
 Major Duncan (he who commanded the 
 post for several years after the French and 
 Indian War) had caused to be constructed 
 among the boughs of a lofty linden which 
 stood at the end of the bowling-green 
 southeast of the fortifications. It was little 
 more than a rough platform, but it afforded 
 a wide view of the lake to the east beyond 
 the tongue of land which in part sheltered 
 the harbor entrance. I had discovered the 
 outlook the day we reached Oswego, and had 
 repaired thither, at my father's request, 
 several times between each rising and set 
 ting of the sun to scan the lake in search 
 of the constantly expected armament. It 
 was delightfully cool, and with a blanket 
 for a cushion and the tree trunk for a back 
 
 88
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 89 
 
 I had spent a number of quiet hours in this 
 leafy aerie. 
 
 I must confess that frequently I paid 
 small heed to the sweeping curves of the 
 shore-line, and the distant point where the 
 boats of St. Leger were first likely to come 
 into view. My mind would revert to the 
 Flatts and Margaret, and then I had no 
 eyes for the shimmering blue water and 
 no ears for the bird-song that ever broke 
 in little waves of melody about me. 
 
 I had already made one considerable 
 tarry in the tree top that morning, and 
 was not now inclined to remain. So having 
 given the coast and the horizon careful 
 scrutiny, and satisfied myself that there 
 was no sign of the awaited expedition, I 
 descended leisurely with the intention of 
 seeking out my father and delivering my 
 accustomed report. 
 
 Although the bowling-green, where the 
 officers amused themselves in Major Dun 
 can's day, was still smooth and grassy, the 
 ground beyond it, which had once been 
 cleared and used as a vegetable garden,
 
 90 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 was a tangle of weeds, briers, and small 
 maple saplings. Hardly had I regained an 
 erect posture after my spring from the 
 lower branches of the linden when this 
 thicket parted and an Indian stepped into 
 sight. Saluting me with just a perceptible 
 nod, and giving me "good-day" in the best 
 of English, he came toward me across the 
 green. 
 
 Startled though I was, I did my best to 
 return his greeting as though I had been 
 accustomed all my life to have Indians 
 appear to me in this fashion. I had an 
 excellent chance to observe him as he 
 approached. His dress was half savage 
 and half civilized. He was tall, yet well 
 knit, and while his face showed many racial 
 marks there was that in it which betokened 
 unusual character. The feathers in his 
 head-dress told me he was a chief, but his 
 manner would have afforded reason for 
 this belief had there been nothing visible 
 to indicate his rank. 
 
 He eyed me sharply as he drew nigh. 
 
 "I have never seen you before," he said,
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 91 
 
 his gaze still upon me. " You are not of 
 Colonel Butler's company." 
 
 "No," I answered, "I am here with my 
 father to join Colonel St. Leger." 
 
 We were now standing facing one another 
 in the center of the green. 
 
 " You come from the Mohawk Valley 
 perhaps?" 
 
 I assented. 
 
 " My old home," he said. 
 
 " Ah ! " I returned. 
 
 " Yes ; possibly you may have heard of 
 me there. I am Captain Brant." 
 
 I had surmised as much when he said the 
 valley was his former home, yet I felt a 
 strange chill pass over me at the sound of 
 his name, though at this time it was by no 
 means so dreaded as it grew to be later. 
 The title " Captain," conferred upon him 
 by the English, he was fond of using when 
 among white men. 
 
 He forebore to question me in regard to 
 my identity, but I saw that he was waiting 
 for me to inform him who I was. 
 
 "I am called Wilton Aubrey," I said.
 
 92 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 " I have heard of your father," he re 
 plied. 
 
 His speech had the Indian terseness, and 
 his nationality showed itself in the deep 
 tones of his voice. One listening to his 
 conversation, however, and not seeing the 
 man, would hardly have detected that he 
 was not using his native tongue. 
 
 "Our friends," he said, lifting his eyes to 
 the top of the linden " they have not yet 
 been sighted ? " 
 
 " There is at present no sign of them," I 
 answered. 
 
 He led the way downward toward the 
 river, asking a few keen questions as we 
 went. Despite his pleasant manner, it was 
 with a feeling of relief that I parted from 
 him at the door of the block-house where we 
 were lodged, and watched him swing easily 
 on to the water-side. Here he stepped into 
 a canoe, seized the paddle, and was soon 
 skimming across the harbor toward the op 
 posite shore, where he disappeared in the 
 wood. 
 
 Two days later when I climbed to my
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 93 
 
 post of observation at mid-morning, I de 
 scried several black specks dotting the 
 water in the far distance. I hailed my dis 
 covery with joy. In my present mood in 
 action was well-nigh intolerable. Constant 
 activity was my only refuge from the 
 thoughts that crowded upon me ; for, strug 
 gle as I would, I could not put the hateful 
 part I was forced to play from my mind. 
 Yet I meant to do faithfully what appeared 
 to be my duty. 
 
 My father received my news with undis 
 guised delight. He was far from strong, 
 yet his wonderful nervous energy made 
 him seem almost vigorous. 
 
 The tidings spread rapidly, and by the 
 time the boats rounded the adjacent point 
 all Butler's corps, and a small body of In 
 dians under Brant, had gathered upon the 
 beach to greet them. As the bateaux swung 
 into full view a ringing cheer went up from 
 the " Rangers," and a wild war-whoop from 
 the savages. 
 
 "I don't see St. Leger," my father said, 
 shading his eyes and gazing intently at the
 
 94 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 nearing force. " And surely there must be 
 other boats ! It would be madness to pro 
 ceed against Fort Stanwix with these few 
 men." 
 
 We continued to scan the bateaux eagerly. 
 
 " There are Sir John and Colonel Glaus ! " 
 cried my father at length. "Yes; they rec 
 ognize me/' and he waved his hand in re 
 sponse to a similar greeting from two men 
 standing side by side in the nearest craft. 
 
 "Glad to see you, Aubrey," called tha 
 colonel, as they drew within hailing distance. 
 
 "Is St. Leger with you?" shouted my 
 father. 
 
 "No; he's several days behind with the 
 rest of the command," was the reply. 
 
 The foremost bateaux was soon beached, 
 and the leaders leaped ashore. They shook 
 hands warmly with my father, who presented 
 me to them. Colonel Claus, who was the 
 baronet's brother-in-law, and considerably 
 his senior, greeted me cordially, but in Sir 
 John's manner toward me I detected an ill- 
 concealed coldness. Instantly I felt re 
 pelled, the whole air of the man was in such
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 95 
 
 direct contrast with the bluff, hearty bearing 
 of the colonel. There was a hard look 
 about his eyes, and I fancied I saw a sneer 
 lurking in the curve of his lips. He turned 
 to give some orders to the officers in com 
 mand of the other boats, and with my father 
 and Colonel Glaus I withdrew to a point a 
 little above the scene of disembarkation. 
 
 "These men belong to Sir John's regi 
 ment and to the Hanau Chasseurs," said 
 the colonel. " You will find some old ac 
 quaintances among the ' Greens/ as we call 
 Sir John's troop." 
 
 " Yes," replied my father, " I already 
 notice familiar faces. ' ' 
 
 Brant now approached and addressed our 
 companion, who walked away with him. 
 Shortly we were joined by the Thomp 
 son boys and Van Eyck, and with them 
 watched with interest the unloading of the 
 boats. This task accomplished, several 
 companies formed into line and marched 
 toward the fort, while the remaining men 
 busied themselves over the disposal of the 
 provisions and camp equipment. For the
 
 96 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 rest of the day there was no lack of occu 
 pation. The Thompsons and Van Eyck 
 were at once enrolled in one of Sir. John's 
 companies, and left us to take up their 
 quarters with their comrades. Acquain 
 tances of my father's were constantly com 
 ing and going, and toward night there was 
 a brief drill upon the parade-ground within 
 the fort. Before my father's position and 
 mine in the expedition could be determined 
 it was necessary to await the arrival of the 
 commander-in-chief, consequently for the 
 present we were only spectators. 
 
 Late that evening I heard a wild hollo 
 ing from the opposite side of the harbor. 
 My father had retired, but I still sat with 
 out, too full of excitement over the scenes 
 of the day to feel in the least drowsy. 
 Rising, I went toward the waterside, where 
 I encountered several of the "Rangers." 
 
 "What's going on? " said I. 
 
 "A party of Brant's Indians is just 
 arriving," answered one of the group with 
 a shrug. "Its a jolly good job they are 
 our friends. I shouldn't care to march
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 97 
 
 into the wilderness if they were n't, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 Suddenly a great tongue of flame shot 
 up into the black hollow of the night, and 
 we beheld fifty or more half-naked forms 
 dancing with piercing whoops and uncouth 
 gyrations in a cleared space upon the 
 farther bank. Fascinated by the weird 
 spectacle, I watched them until they finally 
 ceased from sheer exhaustion, and then 
 took my way slowly back to the block 
 house. As I drew near the corner of the 
 building I saw a solitary figure awaiting 
 my approach. At first I thought it was 
 my father, who had been roused by the 
 savage clamor and had come out to discover 
 what was taking place. I soon realized, 
 however, that it was a man of heavier 
 build, but I did not recognize him until he 
 addressed me. It was Sir John Johnson. 
 
 " Your father is within, I presume," he 
 said. 
 
 "I think so," I answered, " unless he has 
 been disturbed since I left by yonder 
 uproar."
 
 98 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 " Our friends are, a trifle demonstrative. 
 One might almost imagine they had caught 
 a Whig and were making merry at his 
 expense." 
 
 The baronet laughed, and there was 
 mockery in his mirth. How chanced he 
 here at this hour ? Was it chance ? These 
 thoughts came into my mind as I paused 
 near him. He had planted himself where 
 I would most naturally pass on my way to 
 the door, and I must step aside if I would 
 avoid him. His words, his whole attitude, 
 stirred all the latent antagonism in me. 
 
 " I trust our friends," I exclaimed, pur 
 posely using and emphasizing the same 
 terms he had applied to the savages, " will 
 not practice their devilish cruelties upon 
 us in case there should turn out to be a 
 scarcity of Whigs." 
 
 "Us?" returned the baronet, with a 
 peculiar rising inflection that carried with 
 it both insinuation and insult. 
 
 Then it flashed upon me that this man 
 suspected me. Had he ground for more 
 than a suspicion ? He had lately been in
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 99 
 
 New York. He had heard, perhaps, that 
 my uncle was a Whig, and knew that I had 
 lived several years in his family. Could it 
 be that he knew more than this? that a 
 report of my participation in the affair of 
 the tea or the guns had reached his ears? 
 It seemed most unlikely. My intimacy 
 with Alexander Hamilton, who had already 
 won distinction in the field, and had for 
 several months been acting as the aide-de 
 camp of Washington, must, however, have 
 come to his knowledge. This, I decided, 
 was the reason for the manner he had 
 adopted toward me. He doubtless thought 
 himself safe in assuming that the loyalty 
 of the friend of so fiery a patriot as Hamil 
 ton might rightly be regarded with sus 
 picion. 
 
 As these thoughts jostled in swift eddy 
 through my brain he fixed his penetrating 
 gaze upon me in the July starlight. If 
 he expected that I would flinch he was 
 grievously disappointed. I realized that I 
 was being tested, and I flatter myself that 
 I was quite as self-contained as he. I
 
 100 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 looked him fairly in the eyes as I replied. 
 
 "Certainly," said I. "Why not us, Sir 
 John Johnson?" 
 
 This was a challenge direct, yet his 
 answer was evasive. 
 
 "Ah, to be sure!" he replied. "My 
 remark was merely a pleasantry. But tell 
 me," he continued, with a sudden change 
 of front "how are our affairs prospering in 
 the valley? I haven't as yet had an oppor 
 tunity of speaking in private with your 
 father, and strolled down at this late hour 
 in the hope that I might find him still 
 visible." 
 
 "My father is far from strong," I said, 
 "and the stir of your arrival has quite ex 
 hausted him. He has been in bed an hour 
 or more. As for news from the valley, I 
 must confess myself but a poor bearer of 
 tidings." 
 
 I was in no wise mollified or thrown off 
 my guard by his swift veer to the agree 
 able, and determined, if I could, to bring 
 the interview to a close. Had I considered 
 my own interests I should have adopted a
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 10l 
 
 very different attitude from the one I as 
 sumed. In fact, had there been time for 
 second thought I should have put forth 
 every effort to produce a favorable impres 
 sion upon Sir John. He was second in 
 command, and it behooved me to stand in 
 his good graces quite as much as in those 
 of St. Leger. All this, however, I did not 
 at the moment consider, for the devil of 
 combativeness within me was aroused. 
 
 The baronet appeared to take no notice 
 of my last declaration, for he continued to 
 question me. 
 
 "What is your opinion of the prospect 
 for a rising in Tryon County when once 
 Fort Stanwix has fallen?" said he. "Will 
 the Whigs not all be king's men then? 
 Shall we meet with any opposition, think 
 
 you?" 
 
 Nothing could have been more unfortu 
 nate than my reply, though I gave him 
 offence most unwittingly. Even to this 
 day I can see nothing in my words at which 
 a man not unduly sensitive should have 
 taken umbrage.
 
 102 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 " Sir," I said, "you who have spent 
 most of your life in the county can cer 
 tainly judge of these matters better than 
 I. Your Tryon neighbors, I fancy, have 
 not changed since you took up your abode 
 elsewhere." 
 
 I suppose it was my reference to his flight 
 into Canada that fired his anger, although 
 I have since heard it many times affirmed 
 that he felt perfectly justified in the course 
 he took, and regarded what some called 
 " breaking his parole " to be no stain upon 
 his honor. 
 
 I saw his face contract and his arm twitch, 
 and I truly believe he would have struck 
 me had I not started back a step. He broke 
 out with an awful oath and he had plenty 
 of them at his command. 
 
 "If it weren't for your father, you 
 damned, white-livered rebel hound," he 
 cried, and his eyes seemed like baleful fires 
 in the darkness, "I'd hand you over to my 
 Missisaguas, and you'd have to grow a new 
 tongue before you answered me again like 
 that."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 103 
 
 I began stammering something about not 
 intending to affront him, when he turned 
 on his heel and strode off into the night, 
 leaving me with the consciousness that I 
 had made a bitter enemy of one who might 
 work me incalculable harm.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 The Coming of St. Leger 
 
 AS may be imagined, my sleep was 
 restless and broken, for through 
 my dreams stalked the form of 
 the baronet, his dark face grown sinister. 
 I was out before bugle-call the next morn 
 ing feeling perplexed and dull of brain, but 
 a plunge in the river washed away part of 
 the care-cobweb. Then I climbed to the 
 now familiar outlook in the linden, whence 
 I saw the day grow into full glory. The 
 ringing rising-peal came up to me from the 
 fort, the smoke ascended from the Indian 
 encampment on the farther side of the 
 harbor, disheveled forms issued from the 
 block-houses, and presently there was a 
 general stir. Canoes began to shoot to 
 and fro across the placid water, there was 
 a bustle near the bateaux, and filled with 
 the energetic spirit which animated the 
 scene I returned to our quarters and set 
 about getting breakfast. 
 
 104
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 105 
 
 Later there were maneuvers to watch 
 both within and without the fort, and 
 while my father and I were laughing over 
 the blunders of the " awkward squad" in 
 one of the companies of Johnson's " Greens," 
 we heard some one hailing us from the crest 
 of the slope below which the drill was 
 taking place. Looking up we beheld 
 Colonel Glaus gesticulating to us. He held 
 something in his hand which I inferred to 
 be a letter. 
 
 "A. message from St. Leger!" he shouted. 
 
 Instantly my father was all excitement. 
 His cheeks, which had more than their 
 wonted flush that morning, now flamed, 
 and I had fairly to use force to prevent 
 him from rushing up the slope, so eager 
 was he to learn the burden of the message. 
 
 "Your friend, our commander, is at Sal 
 mon Creek, twenty miles distant," called 
 the colonel, as we at length approached 
 the spot where he stood. 
 
 "He will reach here today then!" ex 
 claimed my father. 
 
 "No; I fear not, since he writes asking
 
 106 
 
 that we join him there and march over 
 land." 
 
 "March overland?" 
 
 "Yes, but such a course is impracticable. 
 I have consulted Brant, who says his Indians 
 will not go to Salmon Creek. I am just 
 sending word to St. Leger to this effect. 
 He will undoubtedly come on to-morrow." 
 
 I spent the remainder of the day in en 
 deavoring to keep my father quiet. The 
 tidings of the morning had strung his nerves 
 to the highest pitch, and by night his rest 
 lessness had reduced me to a state bordering 
 on exhaustion. Rarely still for more than 
 fifteen minutes, he kept me moving (for I 
 would not leave his side) from block-house 
 to fort, from fort to beach, and from beach 
 to river-landing. At dusk-fall, however, I 
 prevailed upon him to remain within. He 
 would not listen to me at first, but when I 
 mentioned the possibility of his becoming 
 so fatigued that he would not have his full 
 strength on the morrow he yielded to my 
 wishes, though not without making light of 
 my fears. When I had finally seen him
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 107 
 
 safely bestowed in bed, sleeping deeply 
 under the influence of a quieting potion I 
 had induced him to swallow, I drew a long 
 breath of relief, and went out into the 
 darkness to find some calm for my own 
 tensely strung nerves. It was generally 
 known that the commander-in-chief, with 
 the remainder of the forces, would arrive 
 on the following day, and a subdued air of 
 expectancy pervaded the whole encamp 
 ment. 
 
 I chanced upon Van Eyck near the 
 river-landing, and he joined me. He was 
 in high feather, and his rude jocularity had 
 the effect of brightening my dull spirits. 
 Since the episode in the wilderness I had 
 felt a strong liking for the eccentric Dutch 
 man, which had doubtless originated in 
 gratitude for his timely rescue but which 
 had grown into something closer and 
 warmer. His manner told me that he re 
 turned my friendship, and when I again 
 sought the block-house it was with the 
 sense that I had at least one true, albeit 
 rough, adviser to lean upon.
 
 108 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 My father was awake the next day at 
 early bird-song, and I heard him stirring 
 about soon after sunrise. I was glad to 
 notice the absence of the flush in his face as 
 we sat over our breakfast of coffee, bacon 
 and hardtack. He enjoyed the meal, and 
 remarked that he had not felt so well in 
 weeks. Toward mid-morning he persuaded 
 me to let him ascend with me to the linden 
 top. Cleats had been fastened in several 
 places upon the tree trunk to make the 
 climb easy, and, as I was able to follow 
 closely and assist him, it seemed wiser to 
 grant his whim than to arouse his ill-humor 
 by opposing it. For an hour or more we 
 reclined among the branches, intent upon 
 the undulating shore-line ; then our watch 
 was rewarded, and my father was the first to 
 detect the approaching boats. My atten 
 tion had wandered from the water for a 
 moment, and when, at his cry, I turned my 
 eyes again to the lake, I saw the bateaux 
 clearly. They had evidently kept very 
 near the shore or we should have observed 
 them sooner. Now they were but a few 
 miles distant.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 109 
 
 Presently we heard faint shouts from the 
 beach that were taken up again at the fort, 
 and we knew that others had descried the 
 coming expedition. We remained in the 
 linden until the bateaux were a little more 
 than a mile away, and then joined the 
 gathering on the lake shore. The troops 
 were drawn up under arms to receive their 
 commander. Sir John and Colonel Glaus 
 were pacing up and down in earnest con 
 sultation in front of the "Greens," who 
 formed the center of the array. Brant had 
 massed his Indians on the left with Butler's 
 Rangers, while the Chasseurs occupied a 
 position on the right. Beyond the last 
 named troop, on a slight elevation, my 
 father and I took our places. 
 
 As the bateaux drew near, Colonel Claus 
 caught sight of us and bade us join the 
 baronet and himself, an invitation which 
 my father eagerly, and I reluctantly, ac 
 cepted. The composure of my father sur 
 prised me. He evinced no sign of the 
 emotion which I knew was stirring him, 
 save that there was an unwonted bright-
 
 110 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 ness about his eyes and a spasmodic twitch 
 ing at the corners of his mouth. 
 
 "There is St. Leger," he said to me sud 
 denly, as a man in the last boat rose and 
 surveyed the shore. I could not see at 
 that distance what manner of man he was, 
 save that he seemed not above middle 
 height. 
 
 As the bateaux approached the beach a 
 cheer rang down the lines, and a greeting 
 salvo was fired. The boat which bore the 
 commander shot in between the others, 
 and St. Leger was the first to land. The 
 baronet and Glaus pressed forward to meet 
 him as he set foot on shore. I saw that 
 my father was trembling, and knew how 
 strong was his desire to run and clasp the 
 hand of his old comrade. Just then St. 
 Leger turned toward us. His eyes fell 
 upon my father's face, and an expression 
 of doubt and amazement that changed to 
 one of pleasure swept across his counten 
 ance. 
 
 "Jack Aubrey? By my faith, it is!" he 
 cried, and strode quickly toward us.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 111 
 
 "Barry!" I heard my father say, and 
 while the two were exchanging greetings I 
 had a chance to observe the man whose 
 name had been familiar to me since my 
 earliest recollection. 
 
 He was of medium stature, as I had be 
 fore observed, with a figure too corpulent 
 to be graceful. His face was cleanly 
 shaven, and had evidently once been hand 
 some, but lines of dissipation had played 
 havoc with his good looks. His eyes espe 
 cially showed his weakness for the bowl, 
 and while his manner was engaging, it 
 smacked to me a trifle of self-importance. 
 I own that I was disappointed in him. 
 
 His reception of me, however, was most 
 gracious. 
 
 " I shall like you first for your father's 
 sake," he said, " and later I know I shall 
 for your own." 
 
 As I thanked him for his cordiality I 
 caught, over his shoulder, the eyes of Sir 
 John Johnson upon me, and the look in 
 them gave me food for much thought. 
 
 A company of the "Greens" was detailed
 
 112 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 to escort St. Leger to his quarters within 
 the fort. As he was leaving he waved his 
 hand to my father and called out: 
 
 "Till tonight!" 
 
 "He has changed, Wilton, sadly," said 
 my father to me, as we wandered toward 
 our rooms in the block-house. "It's drink. 
 That's the whole cause. You can see it in 
 his face." 
 
 I hardly knew what reply to make, and 
 so was silent. My father seemed not to 
 notice my reticence, for presently he ex 
 claimed : 
 
 "But he's the same at heart, the same at 
 heart, I'm sure of it!" This thought ap 
 peared to cheer him, and he was quite gay 
 over our midday luncheon. 
 
 I assisted my father in making such sim 
 ple arrangements as were possible for the 
 entertainment of his gue st that evening. We 
 brightened with wild flowers and fresh green 
 boughs the larger of the two rooms in which 
 we were quartered. We sweetened the place 
 with the strewn needles of the pine, and by 
 fastening blankets on the rough chairs
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 113 
 
 Van Eyck had fashioned for us contrived 
 comfortable seats. We added to our store 
 of pitch knots, and got out the one candle 
 that still remained. Two of the three bot 
 tles of old Hollands which we had treas 
 ured were also produced, and a pair of 
 small silver pocket flasks set forth in lieu 
 of drinking cups. 
 
 1 had just induced my father to go within 
 to escape the heavy dewfall, and the mist 
 which was creeping up from the river, when 
 St. Leger arrived, accompanied by two 
 soldiers whom he dismissed at the door. I 
 tarried but a few moments, and then, leav 
 ing the old comrades together, blanket on 
 arm climbed to the linden top. Here, 
 where all the boisterous evening noise of 
 the encampment was but a murmur, I gave 
 myself up to thoughts of Margaret, and 
 dreams that somehow all would turn out 
 well. Ere long I fell asleep, to waken with 
 a start and the consciousness that some 
 strange sound had roused me. As I sat up, 
 an owl hooted above my head, and flew 
 blunderingly away toward the adjacent
 
 114 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 woods. Though by no means superstitious, 
 the presence of this bird of ill omen gave 
 me a creepy feeling, and I descended from 
 the tree as quickly as the darkness would 
 permit. When I reached the block-house 
 St. Leger was on the point of taking his 
 leave, and I perceived that both men were 
 somewhat under the influence of the strong 
 Hollands. 
 
 My father immediately proposed that we 
 accompany the commander to the fort en 
 trance, and though I feared the night air 
 for him I saw that opposition to his wishes 
 would not be wise. 
 
 "Well, Wilton," said St. Leger to me 
 familiarly as we set out, " I have everything 
 arranged for you and for my old friend, 
 your father." 
 
 "He has been too good, too generous!" 
 my father broke in. 
 
 "Hold your tongue, Jack!" cried the 
 commander. "You always would interrupt 
 me, but damme, sir, I tell you flatly I won't 
 have it." 
 
 "Your father, as you know," continued
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 115 
 
 St. Leger, turning again to me, "was for 
 merly an officer in the king's service, and 
 was forced by ill health to give up his com 
 mission. Now, inasmuch as he is familiar 
 with army tactics, I attach him to my staff 
 as one of my aides. I feel empowered to 
 do this as I have full command of the ex 
 pedition. A number of officers with me do 
 not serve under me regularly, but have en 
 listed, or have been especially appointed 
 for this campaign. With you, a civilian, 
 the case is different, so I propose to employ 
 you as my secretary to relieve Lieutanent 
 Hamilton, who is now acting in that capac 
 ity. Though it is possible that I may call 
 on you for other duties, you may, if you 
 please, consider yourself my secretary. 
 Your father tells me you are well fitted to 
 fill such a post." 
 
 To the last of this speech, all of which 
 was delivered in the grandiloquent manner 
 of one half in liquor, I replied that I should 
 endeavor to prove myself worthy of my 
 father's commendation. I also thought it 
 fitting that I should express my gratitude,
 
 116 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 but he cut me short by launching into an ex 
 position of his plans for sweeping down the 
 Mohawk, seeming to take it for granted that 
 the garrison at Fort Stanwix would speedily 
 agree to such terms as he chose to offer. 
 I was thankful that he did not question me 
 on this point, or upon the probability of 
 armed resistance to his march to Albany, 
 for in his heated condition my opinion, had 
 I spoken otherwise than most guardedly, 
 might not have been pleasantly received. 
 
 Having bidden the commander good-night 
 at the fort entrance, I drew my father's 
 arm through mine and hurried him back to 
 the blockhouse. Not since my mother's 
 death had I seen him in such high spirits 
 as he was after our return. This was in 
 part due to the stimulant he had taken, in 
 part to his meeting with the friend of his 
 youth, and in part to the prospect of en 
 gaging in what, from his point of view, 
 was to be a triumphant campaign. 
 
 I noticed that.the excitement of the even 
 ing had made him feverish, but comforted 
 myself with the thought that his condition
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 117 
 
 would pass off as soon as he fell asleep. 
 I heard him tossing and muttering, and was 
 considering the advisability of giving him 
 such a potion as I had administered the 
 night previous, when he grew quiet, and 
 presently I heard him breathing like one in 
 slumber, though with an occasional catch, 
 as though there were some obstruction in 
 his throat. Then I slipped away into un 
 consciousness. 
 
 Toward dawn I started suddenly upright. 
 What I had been dreaming I never could 
 recall, but I found myself in a cold perspi 
 ration, as though my visions had been har 
 rowing. From my father's room came a 
 faint spasmodic gasping. I tossed off the 
 blanket, groped for the tinder box, lit the 
 stub of our last candle, and sprang to the 
 door between the two rooms. A cry of 
 terror and horror escaped my lips. Blood 
 dabbled the blankets of my father's bed, 
 a little red stream was trickling from one 
 side of his mouth, his eyes were fixed and 
 protruding, and on his face was the livid 
 hue that accompanies death by strangula 
 tion.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 With the Advance 
 
 LATE in the afternoon of the 26th 
 of July my father's body was laid 
 to rest under the shade of the 
 great linden tree. St. Leger read the 
 burial service from the church prayer-book, 
 and a military salute was fired in honor of 
 the dead. My father's old comrade re 
 mained behind with me after the others 
 had withdrawn, and then, when we had 
 stood some time in silence, with a gentle 
 ness and delicacy of which I had not 
 thought him possessed, led me slowly away. 
 
 My father's death seemed to touch St. 
 Leger deeply, and his consideration for me 
 for the time being quite won my heart. 
 How one appreciates a little kindness at 
 such an hour ! 
 
 A place was provided for me within the 
 fort, and all my effects brought thither, so 
 that I did not again return to the scene of 
 the previous night's agony and loss. 
 
 118
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 119 
 
 As I was retiring St. Leger came to my 
 room. 
 
 "I know this spot will have nothing but 
 bitter memories for you," he said, " and it 
 has occurred to me that perhaps you would 
 be glad to turn your back upon it at the 
 earliest opportunity. I am sure it would 
 be well for you if you are willing to do so." 
 
 Wondering what he had in mind, I 
 answered that I would leave that very 
 instant were such a thing possible. 
 
 "I am sending Lieutenant Bird forward 
 with a detachment of the King's Regiment 
 and a number of Indians, as a reconnoiter- 
 ing party, on the morrow," St. Leger went 
 on. "You have already been over the 
 route they are to traverse, and might be 
 of assistance to the lieutenant. What say 
 you, will you go?" 
 
 " How can I thank you for giving me the 
 chance ?" I cried. 
 
 "Don't think of that," said he. "I am 
 serving myself as well as you. One of 
 your former companions shall accompany 
 you; then if Lieutenant Bird wishes to
 
 120 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 communicate with me there will be trust 
 worthy messengers. Whom do you prefer? ' ' 
 
 "A Dutchman named Van Eyck, who is 
 in Captain McDonald's company of the 
 ' Greens.' He knows the country as a priest 
 his breviary." 
 
 "Good! He shall be seen at once. The 
 expedition will start at seven;" and with 
 a warm pressure of the hand he left me. 
 
 Action something that would take me 
 out of myself, would cause me to forget a 
 little my troubles and sorrows this was 
 what I longed for, and this providentially 
 had been offered me. So resolutely had I 
 banished from my mind the possibility of 
 serving the patriot cause, it did not occur 
 to me that night, nor indeed until some 
 time afterward, that there was now no 
 sacred duty that bound me to the side of 
 the king. 
 
 When I strode down to the river-landing 
 the next morning, after a mournful revery 
 at my father's grave, I found thirty soldiers 
 and twice as many Indians in readiness to 
 embark. St. Leger and Sir John Johnson
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 121 
 
 were superintending in person the de 
 parture of the force. One bateau and 
 several small boats had been assigned to 
 the troops, while the Indians were to fol 
 low in their canoes. Lieutenant Bird, who 
 had command of the expedition, proved to 
 be an agreeable, wide-awake young officer, 
 but little older than myself, for whom I at 
 once conceived a liking. The lieutenant, 
 Van Eyck, and myself were to lead in one 
 of the small boats, and we got under way 
 with military promptness. 
 
 St. Leger evinced at parting the same 
 kindness he had shown me on the previous 
 day, and assured me that when I rejoined 
 the main force the position he had promised 
 me should be mine. 
 
 Van Eyck was our pilot and guide, and 
 took a very manifest pride in fulfilling the 
 duties of his position. Lieutenant Bird 
 speedily became interested in his eccentri 
 cities, and drew him into an animated con 
 versation, so that most of the morning I 
 was left to my own sad thoughts, though 
 occasionally the warm-hearted Dutchman
 
 122 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 would endeavor to divert and cheer me. 
 During our passage of the rifts near 
 Battle Island the Indians were tractible 
 enough, but directly after we had accom 
 plished the tiresome portage at Oswego 
 Falls they began to be troublesome. A 
 number of the chiefs wished to encamp 
 for the night, although there were several 
 hours of daylight left, and it required a 
 vast amount of persuasion to prevail upon 
 them to move forward. This was the first 
 of many trying experiences with our savage 
 allies. On the following morning all efforts 
 to hasten them were vain, and we pushed 
 on as far as Three Rivers unattended. 
 When, after much delay, they finally joined 
 us, we discovered the reason for their dila- 
 toriness. While we had been in camp 
 several braves, under the cover of darkness, 
 had returned toward Oswego, and, meeting 
 a commissary division that had been sent 
 forward to the lower landing at the Oswego 
 Falls portage, had stolen six quarters of 
 beef from the army stores. Now feast 
 they would, in spite of all Lieutenant Bird
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 123 
 
 could say. A party of Senecas appeared 
 at this juncture, and they proved as obdu 
 rate as the Missisaguas, so we left them to 
 gorge themselves, and turned up the Oneida 
 Kiver toward Oneida Lake. 
 
 Van Eyck had worked himself into a vio 
 lent passion over the behavior of the sav 
 ages, and sputtered and stormed in Dutch, 
 much to the lieutenant's amusement, though 
 the latter was no less angry at their obsti 
 nacy. We followed the weary windings 
 of the river until toward sunset, and paused 
 for the night upon a grassy plot of ground 
 beneath some large willows where we found 
 the ashes of former camp-fires that told us 
 the site was a favorite resting-place for the 
 voyageur. At six the next morning we 
 were in readiness to proceed, and as no 
 Indians had appeared we continued on our 
 way unescorted. By ten o'clock the heat 
 had grown intense. Not a breath of air 
 moved, a burning haze hung over the water, 
 and the men had to change oars frequently 
 to avoid sunstroke. Nor was there shade 
 to afford temporary relief. The river-banks
 
 124 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 were low, and wooded near the stream only 
 with willow and elder thickets. 
 
 I was sitting at the stern of the boat, 
 talking with Van Eyck, shading my face 
 from the sun with a large lily-pad I had 
 plucked from the water, when my com 
 panion suddenly gripped my arm. 
 
 "Look!" he said, in a half whisper, "but 
 don't turn your head there to the right 
 where there's an opening in the thicket. 
 Don't you see that tall grass move ? There 's 
 a redskin hidden in it. I saw his scalp-lock 
 a second ago." 
 
 I did as he bade me, and presently, just 
 before we drew abreast of the spot, I beheld 
 the face of an Indian cautiously raised 
 above the grass. The eyes of all who 
 were not at the oars were fixed upon a 
 bend in the river which we were approach 
 ing. We were in mid-stream, yet by Van 
 Eyck and myself the Indian's features we re 
 readily distinguished. 
 
 "I know that fellow," the Dutchman 
 said; "he's an Oneida half-breed named 
 Spencer, a Whig spy I'll wager a crown."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 125 
 
 With that he caught up a musket that 
 was resting against the seat in front of us, 
 jerked it to his shoulder, and fired. The 
 movement was one of incredible rapidity, 
 yet the concealed redskin was quicker, for 
 just before Van Eyck pulled the trigger 
 there was a wavering of the long grass and 
 a bending of the adjacent bushes. 
 
 "I gave him a scare, anyhow," laughed 
 my companion. 
 
 Scarcely had he spoken when a tongue 
 of flame leaped from the thicket not ten feet 
 from the spot where we had seen the savage, 
 and the man just in front of us dropped his 
 oar with a cry of pain. He had been shot 
 through the forearm. 
 
 "That bullet was meant for me," said 
 Van Eyck coolly, proceeding to reload. 
 
 Several soldiers seized their guns and 
 poured a volley into the thicket, and 
 Lieutenant Bird turned to Van Eyck who 
 had now risen as though waiting for him to 
 give orders. The Dutchman was sharply 
 scanning the trend of the shore-line. 
 
 "The redskin's on an island!" he ex-
 
 126 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 claimed, after an instant's scrutiny; "pull 
 your strongest, men, and we may catch 
 him. There's no danger from his gun, for 
 he's taken to his heels." 
 
 Lieutenant Bird shouted to the sergeant 
 in the adjoining boat, bidding him watch 
 the main channel, while our oarsmen for 
 the first time that morning sent our craft 
 swiftly through the water. Rounding a 
 marshy point, we swept into a stagnant 
 arm of the stream, half choked by lily-pads. 
 
 " Faster, men, faster," cried Van Eyck, 
 his bronzed face aglow with excitement. 
 
 The rowers bent to their work, the per 
 spiration streaming in great drops from 
 their foreheads, the sound of their labored 
 breathing indicating how strenuously they 
 were exerting themselves; and yet for all 
 their exertion our progress was slow as 
 the pads and eel-grass impeded us, growing 
 thicker and thicker with every stroke. 
 
 "There he is!" cried the man at the 
 bow, as we shot around a projection in the 
 island shore. And sure enough there the 
 Indian was within fifteen feet of the bank
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 127 
 
 of the mainland, holding his gun above his 
 head as he swam. He cast a backward 
 look, saw us, and realized his danger just in 
 time, for as he sank beneath the water Van 
 Eyck's bullet threw up a shower of spray 
 a few inches beyond the spot where he had 
 disappeared. We watched for his re-ap 
 pearance in vain. 
 
 "He's caught in the eel-grass and will 
 drown ! " I cried. 
 
 "No such good luck, I fear," laughed 
 Van Eyck. "There's but little grass over 
 yonder where he dove, and as he can swim 
 like a duck he's probably now safe in hid 
 ing under the bank somewhere." 
 
 "Shall we land and root the rascal out?" 
 demanded Lieutenant Bird who had his 
 mettle up, and was loath to relinquish the 
 chase. 
 
 "It's no use, lieutenant," responded the 
 Dutchman. " Ten to one he's given us the 
 slip already. We may as well cry quits." 
 
 This episode was the first occurrence 
 after our departure from Oswego that 
 really roused me from my apathy, and
 
 128 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 when we had regained the river proper I 
 found myself cherishing a feeling of relief, 
 nay, even one of pleasure, that the Oneida 
 had escaped. I was sorry for the wounded 
 soldier, however, and there being no one in 
 the boat who could more skilfully care for 
 him, I did what I could to make his wound 
 comfortable. 
 
 So oppressive had the heat now become 
 that when we discovered an inlet half gir 
 dled by a group of willows we pulled into 
 it, although it was not without some mis 
 givings that we did so, and finding no 
 traces of the presence of an enemy rested 
 here until the afternoon had well worn 
 away. We were now quite near Fort 
 Brewerton, but having consulted with Van 
 Eyck and myself, Lieutenant Bird deter 
 mined not to pause there. Accordingly 
 we pushed on as far as Nine Mile Point 
 which offered a desirable camping ground. 
 Here, before we re-embarked on the fol 
 lowing morning, a part of the Indians 
 overtook us, and accompanied us to the 
 mouth of Wood Creek. But it was not
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 129 
 
 until the dawn of another day, the first 
 of August, that all of our troublesome 
 allies appeared. 
 
 That night Lieutenant Bird called a 
 council of the chiefs at which Van Eyck 
 and I were invited to be present. 
 
 "Brothers," the lieutenant said, to the 
 assembled sachems, " the White Chief has 
 bidden me hasten to advance upon Fort 
 Stanwix. In order that the fort may be 
 fully surrounded, and our enemies receive 
 no aid from without after our arrival, it is 
 my wish that we march forward together. 
 We have already delayed too long. We 
 have loitered by the way, but now we must 
 be swift to move. You have not forgotten 
 the promises the Great Father beyond the 
 sea has made to you. These promises will 
 be kept, but the Great Father and the 
 White Chief who commands us all expect 
 that you will keep your promises as well." 
 
 This speech was received by most of the 
 savages with nods and grunts of approval, 
 and a number of them signified their will 
 ingness to accompany the lieutenant and 
 his men on the morrow.
 
 130 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Finally a fierce and quarrelsome old 
 Seneca, who went by the name of Commo 
 dore Bradley, rose deliberately, and said in 
 the deepest gutteral : 
 
 "Brothers; the young White Chief 
 agreed, when we left Oswego, to give ear 
 to our advice. It is not bravery but the 
 deed of one lacking wisdom to march out 
 from a secure shelter into an open space, 
 and up to the mouth of great guns. It is 
 the act of a fool. Moreover night is the 
 time for the trail. No enemy can aim true 
 in the dark." 
 
 "The ugly old idiot!" exclaimed Van 
 Eyck, in an undertone. "Does he think 
 we want him to storm Fort Stanwix in 
 broad daylight?" 
 
 The words of the Seneca produced a 
 marked impression on the other chiefs, and 
 it required much explanation before the 
 lieutenant could satisfy them that he wished 
 to proceed only as far as the edge of the 
 wood that surrounded the fort. At last, 
 however, most of them agreed that they 
 would co-operate with the troops and march 
 at dawn.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 131 
 
 As I lay upon my army blanket, with no 
 roof above me save the rustling forest 
 leaves, for the first time it came to me that 
 my position was different from what it had 
 been when my father was living. That 
 this had not occurred to me before may 
 appear strange, but looking back to this 
 period now, after the lapse of many years, 
 I realize that the shock of my father's death 
 must have dulled and blurred my power of 
 thought. 
 
 Who was left for me to consider save 
 myself and Margaret ? This was the ques 
 tion I asked myself in the quiet watches 
 of the night. St. Leger? He had indeed 
 been kind to me, but was it not solely for 
 my father's sake? How long would his 
 present attitude continue? Had not Sir 
 John Johnson, in my absence, already pre 
 judiced him against me? If the baronet 
 had not yet done so would he not seize 
 upon the first opportunity, and then, with 
 St. Leger 's favor withdrawn, what had I to 
 hope for? Clearly my only chance of per 
 fect security lay in escaping into the Con-
 
 132 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 tinental lines in joining the cause with 
 which my heart had been from the outset. 
 But how was my escape to be effected? 
 The solution to this query baffled me, and 
 I lay long pondering upon the matter, gaz 
 ing with wide open eyes at the sparkling 
 points of light visible through the rifts in 
 the swaying branches; but the stars gave 
 me no inspiration. On all other subjects I 
 should have consulted Van Eyck unhesi 
 tatingly, and no doubt profited by his 
 rough but shrewd advice. To approach 
 him concerning what I had in mind would, 
 however, as I well realized, be the sheerest 
 folly, for he had the reputation of being 
 one of the stanchest Tories in the Mohawk 
 Valley. 
 
 It would perhaps have been madness to 
 risk finding my way overland to Fort Stan- 
 wix by paths wholly unknown, yet with a 
 willing companion how gladly would I have 
 made the attempt! 
 
 The night wore on. I heard the mur 
 mur of the sentries' voices as they relieved 
 one another, and at last fell into a light
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 133 
 
 slumber from which I was frequently roused 
 by the stir of some one of the soldiers 
 about me. At dawn the Indians again 
 failed us. Commodore Bradley, had, for 
 some reason, played upon their fears, and 
 not more than half a dozen were willing to 
 accompany the troops. Van Eyck swore 
 fiercely, but previous experience had turned 
 Lieutenant Bird into something of a stoic, 
 and he bore his crowning disappointment 
 admirably. 
 
 " I must send word to Colonel St. Leger," 
 he said. "I fear I should have done so 
 before. Brant and Glaus and Sir John are 
 the only ones who can manage these cursed 
 savages. Aubrey, I shall have to ask you 
 and Van Eyck to carry my message for 
 me." 
 
 I went with Van Eyck to the creek 
 and selected a canoe. Presently the lieu 
 tenant joined us, and gave his hastily writ 
 ten missive into my keeping. 
 
 "We shall make for Nine Mile Point," 
 said Van Eyck, taking up the paddle. 
 "The army should have reached there by 
 this time."
 
 134 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 He gave the light craft a vigorous shove 
 from the bank, dipped the blade deep, and 
 we went swiftly skimming down the stream 
 toward the lake.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The Fort is Encompassed 
 
 I HAD become familiar with canoeing 
 during my residence at the Flatts, 
 but never before had I seen such a 
 display of skill as was shown by Van Eyck 
 that morning. A light wind out of the 
 west had wakened the water from its night 
 tranquility, and it was dancing in tiny 
 golden waves to the soft music of the aerial 
 minstrel. Over these waves sped our little 
 boat like a winged thing. We crossed a 
 wide bay, and then, a panorama of varied 
 greens, the shores slid by until at length, 
 as we approached the Nine Mile Point, the 
 sunlight glinted on something white. 
 
 "They are there," I said, "I can see 
 their tents." 
 
 "Umph!" growled my companion, "they 
 are halting long enough to put the tents 
 out, are they?" 
 
 "Only for a few of the officers, I pre- 
 135
 
 136 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 sume," I answered, and this we soon dis 
 covered to be the case. 
 
 Several soldiers and Indians came run 
 ning to the beach to greet us. 
 
 "Take me to the colonel," said I to a 
 sergeant whose uniform I recognized as 
 that worn by the men of St. Leger's 
 regiment. 
 
 The commander was just rising, and 
 came to the door of his tent half dressed. 
 He treated me a trifle brusquely, as though 
 he was vexed at being disturbed before he 
 had made his toilet. I noticed that his 
 hand shook when he took Lieutenant Bird's 
 letter, and his eyes were bloodshot as though 
 he had been free with his liquor the night 
 before. He cursed roundly when he had 
 scanned the written page, and told the ser 
 geant to send Captain Brant to him at once. 
 
 "And, sergeant," he called after the sol 
 dier, who had turned to go, "give Mr. Au 
 brey and the man who came with him some 
 breakfast. Most of the officers have break 
 fasted," he said in explanation to me, "and 
 Sir John and I are to discuss plans over our 
 coffee."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 137 
 
 It mattered little to me how, or with 
 whom, I ate, so long as there was some sort 
 of a meal forthcoming. I had had oppor 
 tunity for only a hasty bite at Wood Creek, 
 and the canoe ride in the fresh morning air 
 had made me ravenously hungry. While 
 Van Eyck and I were devouring what the 
 sergeant provided, an orderly appeared and 
 handed my companion a letter. 
 
 " You are to bear this to Lieutenant Bird 
 as soon as possible," he said, and then, ad 
 dressing me, "The colonel desires you to 
 remain, Mr. Aubrey." 
 
 I would much have preferred to accom 
 pany Van Eyck, for I had not been greatly 
 pleased with the reception given me by St. 
 Leger. There was, however, no other way 
 but to accede to his wishes which I did 
 without demur. I saw my companion de 
 part, and presently witnessed the embark 
 ation of a large number of Indians under 
 Brant's command. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before I again had 
 word with St. Leger. I was talking with 
 Colonel Glaus when he observed me.
 
 138 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "Ah! Aubrey," he said, "I wondered 
 where you were. We shall all be moving 
 within an hour. If you had been on hand 
 last night I should have let you try your 
 skill at your new duties. Come with me, 
 and you shall see the proclamation Lieu 
 tenant Hamilton has drawn up under my 
 direction." 
 
 I followed him to his tent, which two sol 
 diers were engaged in taking down. 
 
 "This," he said, taking a paper from a 
 leather case, "will, I flatter myself, bring 
 the garrison at Fort Stanwix to terms." 
 
 I ran my eye down the long, closely writ 
 ten sheet in which the uprising of the col 
 onies was characterized as an "unnatural 
 rebellion," and those engaged in it were 
 accused of " persecution and torture unprec 
 edented in the inquisitions of the Romish 
 Church." It was St. Leger's intention, so 
 the manifesto stated, to " hold forth security, 
 not depredation, to the country." In case, 
 however," the frenzy of hostility" remained, 
 it was his declared purpose to execute " the 
 vengeance of the state against the wilful 
 outcasts."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 139 
 
 Though his manner toward me was now 
 kindly, my estimate of the man was vastly 
 lessened after reading the pompous procla 
 mation. The statement that he intended 
 to "hold forth security, not depredation, to 
 the country," with Brant and his savage 
 horde as allies, struck me as being a sublime 
 travesty on fact. 
 
 Could I, at St. Leger's dictation, pen 
 such a document? I doubted my patience 
 and composure were I put to so trying a 
 test. 
 
 "I fear I shall prove but a poor substitute 
 for your present secretary," I said. "I 
 could never, save with your assistance, pro 
 duce so telling a manifesto as this." 
 
 "My assistance you shall have," he re 
 plied, evidently pleased at the implied com 
 pliment to his powers of expression. 
 
 I was honored with a place in the bateau 
 with St. Leger, Sir John Johnson, and 
 Colonel Claus. The baronet rarely ad 
 dressed me, yet there was nothing in his 
 treatment of me, nor had there been since 
 my father's death, to indicate that he cher-
 
 140 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 ished any resentment toward me, or that he 
 deemed me an object of suspicion. I knew 
 the nature of the man too well, however, to 
 be lulled by his unruffled exterior into a 
 feeling of false security. 
 
 We reached the mouth of Wood Creek 
 by the middle of the afternoon. Lieuten 
 ant Bird and his troop, together with the 
 Indians under Brant, had gone on ahead to 
 invest the fort that evening. It was de 
 cided that the main force should hasten 
 forward as soon as practicable, so that a 
 grand display might be made before the 
 fortifications the next morning. Since we 
 had traversed its tortuous channel a force 
 from Fort Stanwix had rendered Wood 
 Creek impassible, so that the engineers had 
 a work of no mean magnitude to accom 
 plish before the artillery could be trans 
 ported. Obstructions must be cleared 
 away and a temporary road cut, but it 
 seemed best to delay these operations until 
 after the army was permanently encamped. 
 
 Wearisome indeed was that night's march. 
 Stumbling over roots and into bog holes,
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 141 
 
 tripping in the tough wire-grass, footsore, 
 lame, we at last threw ourselves down 
 wherever the ground was firm, near the 
 Wood Creek extremity of the carrying- 
 place. 
 
 Every one was glad to be stirring at 
 dawn. There was no grumbling at the cold 
 breakfast, so excited were all over the pros 
 pect of encompassing the enemy. It was a 
 perfect Sabbath morning, cloudless and 
 cool. Did it seem to any one, I wondered, 
 that it was God's work we were bent upon? 
 
 As early as practicable the line of march 
 was formed. The regulars donned for the 
 occasion their bright new uniforms, which 
 had not been taken from the packs since 
 they left Buck Island. Five Indian columns 
 constituted the advance, then came a detach 
 ment of the "Greens," next the main body 
 of the army, with Indians on both flanks, and 
 finally the rear-guard, which was made up 
 of the "Greens" and the Rangers. 
 
 The command "Forward!" was passed 
 along the line. The flags were unfurled, 
 the bugles sounded, the drums struck up,
 
 142 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 and amid wild shouts from the Indians we 
 moved toward the fort, following the route 
 of the carrying-place. 
 
 As a mark of special favor I was assigned 
 by St. Leger a position beside Lieutenant 
 Hamilton who appeared to resent my 
 presence, and treated me with the superior 
 supercilious air adopted by some army men 
 toward civilians. It occurred to me that 
 possibly he might be disturbed because 
 St. Leger had made me his secretary, so I 
 remarked that the position was not one of 
 my own seeking, and that I had no wish 
 whatever to supplant him. "Without con 
 descending so much as to glance at me he 
 made me so rude a reply that I regretted 
 my effort to be friendly, and was thereafter 
 wholly silent. 
 
 As we emerged into the cleared space on 
 the west of the fort we saw that the whole 
 garrison had assembled on the ramparts to 
 view our approach. 
 
 "A brave set they look!" cried Lieuten 
 ant Hamilton, with a sneer, and indeed the 
 Continentals did appear a tatterdemalion
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 143 
 
 crew, some in rusty regimentals, some in 
 the buckskin garb of frontiersmen, some in 
 ragged citizens apparel. They seemed to 
 be gazing as us with an air of stupification 
 and wonder, but I learned later that they 
 were merely intent upon counting our 
 numbers. 
 
 An emissary bearing a flag of truce and 
 a copy of St. Leger's proclamation was at 
 once dispatched to the fort. No reply 
 whatever being vouchsafed, active prepara 
 tions for a siege were immediately begun. 
 St. Leger selected the Wood Creek extremity 
 of the carrying-place as his supply station, 
 and placed over it a company of the King's 
 Regiment as guard. On a ridge to the 
 north-east of the fort he established his 
 own headquarters, and, near by, men were 
 ordered to throw up earthworks so that 
 everything should be in readiness to mount 
 the guns as soon as they arrived. Sir John 
 Johnson and his command encamped just 
 below the boat-landing on the Mohawk, 
 while the Indians were stationed at inter 
 vals in the woods, thus making the invest 
 ment complete.
 
 144 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 During the day St. Leger employed me 
 not only as his secretary, but also as his 
 dispatch bearer, and I thus became f amiliar 
 with the ground surrounding the fort. The 
 first shades of twilight had fallen, and I had 
 cast myself upon the grass on the brow of 
 the slope where our camp was pitched, and 
 was gazing longingly at the fortification 
 not far distant, wishing I were within its 
 walls, when I heard footsteps behind me. 
 Glancing up, I saw St. Leger close at hand. 
 
 "Aubrey," said he, "I want you to go to 
 Sir John's camp and tell the baronet to post 
 some of the savages beyond the river. A 
 reinforcement with provisions arrived last 
 evening just before Lieutenant Bird reached 
 the scene, and I desire to take every pre 
 caution to prevent further aid from enter 
 ing the fort. Sir John may have issued 
 orders to the Indians already, but I wish 
 to make sure." 
 
 Bidding me hasten, the colonel turned and 
 left me. Here was the very opportunity I 
 had longed for, and my heart beat fast at 
 the thought. As I lay looking at the fort
 
 THE SON OP A TORY 145 
 
 it had occurred to me that could I steal 
 from camp unobserved and descend the 
 slope I might possibly cross the low, marshy 
 ground intervening, under cover of the 
 reeds and elders and swamp-rose bushes, 
 get within hailing distance of the sally-port, 
 make myself known as a friend, and thus 
 gain the shelter and safety I desired. There 
 was danger, in the dim light, of being mis 
 taken for a lurking Indian, and being fired 
 upon by one of the sentinels, but this risk 
 I was willing to run. 
 
 The commission which I had just received 
 from the commander gave me ample excuse 
 for the move I was about to make should I 
 be observed by anyone within the British 
 lines, so I rose without hesitation, slipped 
 down the declivity, and entered the tangle 
 below. The route I was taking was the 
 most direct one to the baronet's camp, 
 though by no means the easiest. Com 
 monly a detour was made to the west of 
 the fort, an open path on high ground. 
 
 A small stream which had its source in 
 some springs to the east of our camp ran
 
 146 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 close to the base of the ridge. Crossing 
 this I followed its general trend, since be 
 fore emptying into the river it passed within 
 a few rods of the sally-port. I picked my 
 way without much difficulty over the an- 
 even ground, for the weather had been dry 
 and only the deepest bog holes contained 
 water. Coming at length to an opening 
 in the thicket, I was forced to crawl on 
 hands and knees to gain another cover 
 where I might proceed in a crouching pos 
 ture. I was now within range of the fort, 
 and, in spite of the uncertain light, thought 
 it wise to exercise the greatest caution. I 
 was congratulating myself on the progress 
 I was making, when, on putting back a 
 thick screen of swamp-laurel, I found my 
 self face to face with an Indian who was 
 squatting upon his haunches in a grassy 
 plot perhaps twelve feet in circumference 
 where no shrubs were growing. He had 
 evidently crept into his present place of 
 concealment in the hope of getting a shot 
 at one of the fort sentries. 
 
 I recognized the savage the moment I
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 147 
 
 put my eyes on him. There was no mis 
 taking that malicious mouth. It was the 
 very Indian whom Van Eyck and I had left 
 bound in the wilderness. It was not at all 
 strange I had not encountered him before, 
 as he was but one of the thousand who were 
 with the army. It was most strange and 
 most unfortunate, however, that I should 
 encounter him now. 
 
 He did not know me at once, for the 
 shadow cast by the branches about my face 
 added to the fast-thickening twilight shades. 
 But as he continued to gaze at me a look of 
 recognition passed over his ugly counte 
 nance. He put aside the rifle which lay 
 across his knees, and drew his scalping 
 knife. A swift chill went over me, for I 
 was unarmed. It had not occurred to me 
 that I should have occasion to use my 
 pistols, and gun or sword would, I knew, 
 be only an encumbrance. 
 
 There was no doubt that the savage 
 meant mischief. The treatment he had 
 received at the hands of Van Eyck and 
 myself had been anything but tender, and
 
 148 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 I was sufficiently well acquainted with 
 Indian nature to realize that revenge would 
 be his first thought. 
 
 Still holding back the branches, and 
 keeping my eyes upon the Indian, I dropped 
 upon one knee and ran the fingers of my 
 disengaged hand, the right, over the ground. 
 They came in contact (and 1 have always 
 maintained that it was providential) with a 
 gnarled root, at which I gave a quick tug. 
 The earth was soft, and the root, a fragment 
 of some long-dead tree, hardened through 
 continuous contact with the water, was dis 
 lodged by my sudden effort. The savage 
 saw my movement, but could not solve the 
 meaning of it. I believe, however, that he 
 fancied I was drawing a weapon, for he cast 
 his knife at me so swiftly that I had barely 
 time to duck my head. The knife was in 
 tended for my throat, but only damaged 
 my hat and cut a furrow in my scalp just 
 below my crown. 
 
 Maddened by the sting of pain, I did not 
 wait for a renewal of the attack, but met 
 my enemy half way as he was coming upon
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 149 
 
 me with his tomahawk. My blow was a true 
 one, and as deadly as it was true. The 
 knotted root, almost as heavy and hard as a 
 stone, struck the savage upon the forehead 
 between the eyes, and crushed his skull 
 as though it had been an egg-shell. Back 
 ward he fell in a heap, his weapon flying to 
 one side, one dull moan of agony escaping 
 his lips. 
 
 Unthinkingly I staggered to my feet, my 
 head and shoulders in full view above the 
 bushes. I was not observed for an instant, 
 then "crack" rang a musket, and the bullet 
 sang by me with waspish viciousness. As 
 I dropped to the ground several others cut 
 the twigs about me, and I crept away from 
 the spot toward the river with all haste, 
 satisfied that any further effort to gain en 
 trance to the fort that night would be 
 futile.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Baronet Shows His Hand 
 
 ATLESS and smeared with blood 
 from the wound on my head, I 
 finally reached the baronet's 
 camp just as dusk was deepening into night. 
 A sorry spectacle I must have been when I 
 presented myself to Sir John and Colonel 
 Glaus, who were reclining before a small 
 camp-fire which had been built to drive 
 away the swarming gnats. 
 
 " Whom have we here?" cried the baronet 
 in a peremptory tone. 
 
 I explained my errand and the cause of 
 my plight in as few words as possible, stat 
 ing in regard to my encounter with the In 
 dian no more than the fact that I had been 
 attacked by a savage. 
 
 "The redskin must have taken you for 
 one of the enemy," said the colonel. 
 
 "The fellow doubtless belonged to the 
 band I stationed beyond the river," com- 
 
 150
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 151 
 
 merited the baronet, indicating that he had 
 forestalled St. Leger's wish. 
 
 My message delivered, I was turning to 
 withdraw when Sir John remarked in a 
 most sarcastic tone, " Perhaps we had better 
 provide you with an escort, Mr. Aubrey, 
 you seem to be so easily mistaken for a 
 rebel." 
 
 "Thank you," I said stiffly, "I think I 
 have proven that I can protect myself." 
 
 Still without a covering for my head, I 
 strode swiftly away into the darkness, anger 
 and dread grappling with my breast. I 
 fancied I heard Colonel Claus say some 
 thing in remonstrance to Sir John, and 
 flung a hasty look back to see if the two 
 had moved. The baronet had risen, and 
 was apparently giving orders to a soldier 
 who was facing him. I could not distin 
 guish the man's face, but I saw that it was 
 not the colonel. 
 
 My path led me in the direction of the 
 fort, and as I passed one of the bastions 
 there burst from the woods on all sides a 
 wild chorus of whoops and yells that echoed
 
 152 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 and re-echoed down the forest arches, and 
 were flung back with demoniac fierceness 
 from beyond the river. I will not deny 
 that I was much startled, and it was with 
 far from a feeling of perfect security that 
 I continued on my way. The noise ceased 
 almost as suddenly as it had broken forth, 
 only to ring out again a moment or two 
 later. Pausing to listen to the second out 
 burst, I fancied I caught the sound of foot 
 falls hard behind me, and crouched down 
 in a little hollow to see if my suspicions 
 were correct. Presently a soldier came 
 slinking along, and halted not ten yards 
 distant, peering about him into the dark 
 ness. I crept toward him, and was almost 
 at his side before he saw me. 
 
 "Give my compliments to Sir John John 
 son," I said, "and assure him that his solic 
 itude for my safety is quite unnecessary." 
 
 The man stammered some foolish excuse, 
 and I left him standing there abashed and 
 chagrined. 
 
 Preparations for the siege progressed 
 briskly the following day. The battery on
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 153 
 
 the ridge was ready for the guns, and Sir 
 John had thrown up a redoubt near the 
 river. The Indians posted themselves in 
 every conceivable place of concealment 
 within rifle shot of the fort, and succeeded 
 in picking off several men who were at 
 work strengthening the ramparts. Night 
 drew on, and still there was no opportunity 
 for carrying out my cherished plan of 
 escape. 
 
 On the morning of the 5th a part of the 
 guns arrived, and were speedily put in 
 place. A few ineffective shells were fired, 
 and then St. Leger decided to wait until 
 the whole battery was in working order. 
 I had been unoccupied that morning as 
 I had been a greater part of the day pre 
 vious, and sat down to dinner with the 
 younger officers of St. Leger's and the 
 King's Regiment, to whose mess I had been 
 assigned, moody and uncommunicative. I 
 began to think I was destined to be a 
 hanger-on in the besieger's camp for an 
 indefinite period, since it was evident that, 
 contrary to St. Leger's expectation, the
 
 154 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 siege was likely to drag itself out for weeks. 
 Indeed I much doubted, as I had from the 
 first, if it ever proved successful. The 
 garrison certainly seemed bent on resisting 
 to the last, and it was impossible to see how 
 St. Leger could force the Continentals to 
 capitulate. 
 
 Most of the officers whose mess I shared 
 treated me with consideration, if not cour 
 tesy. Lieutenant Hamilton was the only 
 one whose manner was unfriendly, and his 
 studied rudeness both puzzled and annoyed 
 me. As I took my place at the rough table 
 where we were served, I saw from the ex 
 pression of his face that he was more than 
 usually sour-tempered, and for the first 
 time, owing doubtless to my own disquieted 
 mood, I found myself resenting his attitude 
 toward me. Hitherto I had simply ignored 
 it. 
 
 The conversation, whether by intention 
 or chance I know not, turned upon the 
 Tories and the assistance they had already 
 rendered, and were likely to render, the 
 king's cause.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 155 
 
 Most of the officers, citing Sir John John 
 son, Colonel Glaus, and Colonel Butler as 
 examples, were generous in praise of the 
 zeal of these leaders and their followers. 
 
 " Granted ! " cried Lieutenant Hamilton, 
 te we have with us a zealous body of allies, 
 but what I maintain is that these men are 
 loyal exceptions. The main body of so- 
 called Tories in the colonies are cowards." 
 
 "Folly! Hamilton, you don't know what 
 you are saying!" exclaimed Lieutenant 
 Hare. "Look at the New Yorkers!" 
 
 "They'd all turn coats quickly enough if 
 our troops weren't in possession of the 
 city," asserted the other. "Then take the 
 interior of the country this Mohawk Val 
 ley for example, where we are to march 
 presently. Why don't these brave gentle 
 men there bestir themselves?" 
 
 "They need a Sir John to lead them, I 
 suppose," some one suggested. 
 
 "Yes, and very careful they are not to 
 make a move while the leader is still a few 
 miles distant," sneered the lieutenant. 
 "The fact of the matter is," he continued.
 
 156 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 looking straight at me, "I have yet to meet 
 a civilian who would fight unless he were 
 driven to it. Your ordinary citizen has 
 nothing in his veins but milk and water." 
 
 The insult was so unexpected and so fully 
 unprovoked that I was too astonished to at 
 tempt a reply. Two or three of the officers 
 glanced at me a little curiously, but I am 
 sure it did not occur to them that Lieuten 
 ant Hamilton had any intention of deliber 
 ately affronting me. There was an awk 
 ward silence of a few seconds, then the 
 lieutenant went on mockingly : 
 
 "Why, the sight of gun or sword is enough 
 to turn the swarthiest civilian as pale as the 
 commander's new secretary yonder." 
 
 If my face had worn a noticeable pallor 
 (a thing natural with me when perturbed or 
 down-spirited) it certainly changed hue, and 
 that swiftly, at these words. 
 
 "It may be that the common citizen does 
 love peace and dread war," said I, "but he 
 at least has the speech and manners of a 
 gentleman which, I regret to discover, is 
 not true of a certain officer in his Majesty's 
 service."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 157 
 
 That the man had any purpose in pro 
 voking me to a quarrel did not enter my 
 head, or I had made a violent effort to re 
 strain myself, and had not spoken as I did. 
 Several officers started to their feet as 
 though to interpose between us. Lieu 
 tenant Hamilton, however, not a little to 
 my astonishment, took my retort coolly 
 enough. He eyed me with a chilly smile, 
 and said in an even tone, as though it was 
 a matter of small import, 
 
 "I'll prick your skin for that, my simple 
 secretary." 
 
 "I'm very willing you should try," I 
 replied, and just then Lieutenant Bird 
 walked in upon us. 
 
 He was the only one of those present 
 who had evinced for me any real friendli 
 ness, so I naturally turned to him. 
 
 "A little difference of opinion to settle, 
 Bird, that's all," called Lieutenant Hamil 
 ton to him with a laugh, as I asked him to 
 act for me in the affair. 
 
 He drew me aside, and listened with 
 knitted brow to my account of what had 
 happened.
 
 158 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "Hamilton's a quarrelsome fellow," he 
 said, when I had finished, "but I don't 
 understand this. He certainly can't have 
 been drinking at this hour of the day. 
 Have you ever done anything to provoke 
 his enmity?" 
 
 "Nothing, unless it be that he is angry 
 because St. Leger has made me his secre 
 tary/' 
 
 "Ah! that may be it, though I remem 
 ber he used to swear that he hated the part 
 of a scribe work, I have heard him say, 
 fit only for a common clerk." 
 
 "However that may be," I answered, 
 "this meeting cannot be avoided." 
 
 "Not if he will apologize?" 
 
 "He'll not do that." 
 
 "Certainly it isn't like him." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow," cried Bird sud 
 denly, an unpleasant thought coming into 
 his mind, "Hamilton's a skilful swordsman, 
 and you " 
 
 He stopped and looked at me in doubt. 
 
 "Are a novice, were you going to say?" 
 
 He nodded.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 159 
 
 " It can't be helped," I said, not choosing 
 to tell him I was by no means ignorant of 
 sword-play. 
 
 Lieutenant Hare in behalf of Hamilton 
 now approached, and after a few moments' 
 consultation with Lieutenant Bird (an apol 
 ogy, as my second had surmised, being out 
 of the question) it was arranged that the 
 meeting should take place in half an hour 
 in a little clearing in the woodland to the 
 rear of the camp. 
 
 Though I had no fear as to the outcome 
 of the encounter, being fully confident of 
 my ability to give a good account of my 
 self (my father had long ago told me I was 
 a very apt pupil), I retired to my tent and 
 penned a few lines to Margaret, in case the 
 worst by any chance should happen. This 
 missive, with brief instructions in regard to 
 its delivery should aught serious befall me, 
 I gave into the hands of Lieutenant Bird as 
 we repaired together to the place of meet 
 ing. 
 
 It chanced that none of those engaged in 
 the affair, either principals or seconds, was
 
 160 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 on duty before three o'clock, so there 
 seemed to be small likelihood of an inter 
 ruption. 
 
 The spot selected for the encounter was 
 well shaded, and there was little choice 
 of position. Lieutenant Hamilton and I 
 saluted each other formally, and then our 
 blades crossed. As my grip tightened on 
 the hilt of the good weapon with which my 
 second had supplied me, and I heard the 
 ring of the steel, my mind went back to 
 the time when, in the little garden adjoin 
 ing our old home in New York, I had first 
 faced my father, and listened to and pro 
 fited by his instruction. Many were the 
 bouts we had had there in my youthful 
 days; and later, at the Flatts, when my 
 father no longer felt equal to the exercise, 
 David and I (for David had once been a 
 trooper in a German cavalry regiment) had 
 frequently tried conclusions, with my father 
 standing by as umpire and critic. 
 
 It had been several months since I had 
 had sword in hand, yet my wrist was no 
 less flexible than of old, and my arm, owing
 
 THE SON OP A TORY 161 
 
 to much tugging at oars, a shade harder 
 than it was wont to be. 
 
 To give my antagonist the impression 
 that my knowledge of the use of the sword 
 was slight, I followed the clumsier German 
 play used by David, and I saw a smile of 
 scorn and triumph flicker about the lieu 
 tenant's lips as I, with apparent difficulty, 
 parried one of his vicious thrusts, for he 
 lost no time in making a vigorous attack. 
 I have no doubt that the onlookers ex 
 pected to see me spitted after a few passes, 
 and the lieutenant, judging from his man 
 ner, was quite as confident as they. 
 
 My opponent was a good swordsman, and 
 he was tricky. I discovered this fact very 
 shortly, and the prick he promised to give 
 me I certainly got, though it was but a 
 scratch upon the left arm. He now pressed 
 me closely, evidently intending to end the 
 contest then and there ; but I did not for 
 once lose my coolness, and as I parried 
 some of his most dexterous thrusts I saw the 
 expression of his face begin to change. He 
 was no longer the confident bully. He 
 was surprised, nay, I think, amazed.
 
 162 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 It had been my intention from the first, 
 if fortune were with me in the fight, to let 
 him feel the point of my sword somewhere 
 not in a vital part, and then disarm him. 
 This, I knew would be a crowning humilia 
 tion; as for killing the man, I did not give 
 such a thought an instant's harborage in 
 my mind, though I am sure that he, on his 
 part, would not have felt the least com 
 punction had he run me through the heart. 
 
 With a suddenness that confused my 
 antagonist I changed my tactics and pres 
 ently had him wholly at my mercy. A 
 nervous fear clutched him, and he went as 
 pale as a strip of parchment. One moment 
 the point of my weapon bit deep into the 
 fleshy part of his left shoulder, and the 
 next his sword was flying through the air, 
 while a terrible oath fell from his lips. 
 
 Then while the little clearing yet re 
 sounded with the clash of our weapons, St. 
 Leger, Sir John Johnson, and half a dozen 
 others burst upon the scene. So intent 
 had our seconds been upon the combat that 
 they had not heard the sound of approach-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 163 
 
 ing footsteps, and we, the combatants, 
 would not have been aware of it had ten 
 thousand men been marching down upon 
 us. 
 
 "What did I tell you, colonel?" cried 
 Sir John with a wave of his hand toward 
 where Lieutenant Hamilton and I were 
 standing. 
 
 I saw by the contracted lines of his face 
 that St. Leger was upan the verge of a 
 violent passion, and it came to me in a 
 flash that I had been the victim of a plot 
 deliberately laid by the baronet to ruin 
 me. He had been shrewd enough to see 
 if he could involve me in a duel, whatever 
 the outcome of the encounter might be, I 
 would be disgraced in St. Leger's eyes. 
 Lieutenant Hamilton, jealous of my pre 
 ferment, had been a willing tool. 
 
 " Mr. Aubrey," said the commander stern 
 ly, "you may consider yourself under arrest." 
 
 "What is the charge against me?" I 
 demanded. 
 
 " You stand here facing one of my offi 
 cers, with your sword in hand, and ask
 
 164 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 such a question?" thundered St. Leger. 
 
 "I was not the cause of the quarrel. 
 Question any of those present when it 
 took place if you do not believe me," I 
 said. 
 
 Lieutenant Bird was about to speak 
 when Sir John Johnson signed to him to 
 be silent. 
 
 " The young man has a smooth tongue," 
 said the baronet to St. Leger. 
 
 "And he has a sharp sword," I cried, 
 quite beyond myself with anger, " that 
 could teach you the same lesson that it has 
 taught your protege, Sir John Johnson." 
 
 "Silence!" shouted St. Leger. "An 
 other word, and you shall be court/-mar- 
 tialed." 
 
 This brought me to my senses. Reluc 
 tantly I gave up my sword, and submitted 
 to be led away to the camp, where I was 
 assigned to a small tent not in use, and a 
 guard stationed at the door. Here I spent 
 the afternoon, with no companion save my 
 own depressing thoughts.
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 An Unexpected Meeting 
 
 Sir Johnson had woven about 
 me a net from which I should 
 find it difficult to escape, I had 
 no doubt. He had suspected me from the 
 outset to be friendly to the cause of the 
 Continentals, though he evidently had no 
 proofs to make good his suspicions. He 
 hated me on account of my inadvertent 
 reference to his flight into Canada, and 
 my conduct toward him, on at least two 
 occasions since our unfortunate encounter 
 that evening at Oswego, had surely not 
 tended to temper his anger. He had 
 maliciously set about to disgrace me in St. 
 Leger's eyes, and he had succeeded. I 
 realized that any attempt to justify myself 
 would be useless. The officers who were 
 present when the quarrel took place would 
 hardly dare say a word in my favor, at the 
 risk of incurring the baronet's enmity, 
 
 166
 
 166 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 even though they believed me to be in the 
 right. 
 
 What charge would be brought against 
 me? Had the military tribunal, with 
 which St. Leger threatened me, any au 
 thority over my actions? It seemed to 
 me not, and yet I knew only too well that 
 the commander-in-chief and his associates 
 could and would do what they chose with 
 me. I racked my brain to conjecture 
 what this would be, but came to no con 
 clusion as the afternoon wore to a close. 
 
 A few of my belongings were, at my 
 request, brought to me, the guard was 
 changed, and I was given a frugal supper, 
 but St. Leger did not come to question me, 
 nor did 1 have opportunity of speaking with 
 any one save my attendants and guards. 
 
 About sunset I noticed a stir in the camp. 
 I was not allowed to move from the tent, 
 but I could see much that took place from 
 the doorway. Soldiers stood in groups 
 talking earnestly, and officers hurried excit 
 edly to and fro. It was clear that some 
 thing was on foot. My guard was pardon-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 167 
 
 ably curious, and fidgeted and fretted 
 because no one passed near. Finally he 
 caught sight of one of his comrades who 
 had come on an errand to an adjoining 
 tent, and called to him: 
 
 "What's the news?" 
 
 After a little the man walked toward us, 
 casting a doubtful eye at me as though 
 debating the advisability of speaking in my 
 presence. 
 
 "Indian runners have arrived from down 
 the valley," he said reservedly. 
 
 My guard joined him a few yards away, 
 and they talked together in low tones, but 
 I caught enough of their conversation to 
 give me the clue to what had happened. A 
 force was marching to the relief of the 
 fort, and Sir John Johnson, with a small 
 body of troops and a large number of 
 Indians, was going to set out that night 
 with the intention of surprising the enemy 
 as they advanced upon the morrow. 
 
 Could I warn the Continentals? The 
 thought leaped into my mind, but I realized, 
 after a moment's consideration, that even
 
 168 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 were I free this would be well nigh impos 
 sible. Every one in the whole camp was 
 on the alert, Sir John was doubtless even 
 now mustering the savages, I was unfamiliar 
 with the valley road ( a rough wagon trail 
 at best), and would be more than likely to 
 go astray in the darkness. 
 
 If I could not warn the approaching Con 
 tinentals I could at least take advantage of 
 the excitment their coming caused, and 
 this I resolved to do. I felt sure that the 
 minds of St. Leger and the baronet would 
 be diverted from me, orders to guard me 
 might be less stringent, and an opportunity 
 to slip away might occur. For this oppor 
 tunity I determined to watch. 
 
 My guard was changed at midnight, and 
 I discovered with delight that the new 
 comer had been drinking. I resolved not 
 to allow myself a wink of sleep, lest by so 
 doing I should miss the chance for which I 
 was eagerly waiting. It was very difficult 
 many times to keep awake, for the occur 
 rences of the day had told severely upon 
 my nervous forces; yet by calling all my
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 169 
 
 will power into action I managed to fight 
 off each attack of drowsiness, and while I 
 frequently appeared to be unconscious, was 
 hi reality never so. 
 
 For a tune my guard strode up and down. 
 Then he seated himself and lighted his 
 pipe, at which he pulled vigorously, occa 
 sionally taking a generous draught from 
 his capacious flask. He glanced in at me 
 now and again, as I lay rolled in my blan 
 ket, muttering under his breath and prob 
 ably wishing I were as lif eless as I appeared 
 to be. 
 
 At last the gray light of coming dawn 
 began to show. This was the hour for 
 which I had waited. It was now if ever, 
 that I must try my fortune. The wind had 
 blown up rather fresh during the night, and 
 I had fastened down one flap of the tent 
 doorway. Across the narrowed entrance 
 my guard was half reclining, his back turned 
 toward me. Presently he raised himself, 
 gazed at where I lay, listened to my breath 
 ing, and then, with a sigh, stretched himself 
 out at full length.
 
 170 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Ten minutes must have elapsed before I 
 dared to stir, and what anxious moments 
 they were ! I had already cut one of the 
 ropes by which the tent was fastened to the 
 ground, and my plan was to escape by 
 raising the canvas at this point. I did not 
 wish to risk a struggle with the soldier, 
 unless driven to such an extremity, for a 
 single cry might bring a dozen of his com 
 rades to his assistance. 
 
 With what infinite caution I slid from 
 my blanket! How carefully I lifted the 
 canvas of the tent and began to worm my 
 way under it ! Every little rustle caused 
 my heart to leap, and when something dry 
 crackled it was as though a thunder-clap 
 had sounded. I was in a cold sweat when 
 I at last stood without my prison. There 
 were other tents to pass, and there might 
 be a sentry to avoid, but the time for 
 caution was gone. I must now be quick 
 and bold, and trust to my heels and to my 
 lucky star. And there it was, the morning 
 star, bright above the distant hemlocks. 
 Its clear rays gave me hope; the sight of 
 it seemed a lucky omen.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 171 
 
 Light of foot, I sprang by the neighbor 
 ing tents toward the open space that led to 
 the border of the forest. I saw no one, and 
 heard no challenge. An instant later I was 
 among the trees safe. What course 
 should I follow? During the long night I 
 had in a measure thought it out. I had 
 decided that if I escaped I would strike for 
 the cedar swamp a little southwest of the 
 fort, and there conceal myself. My further 
 action must be shaped by later develop 
 ments. 
 
 The east was fast kindling with the fires 
 of dawn. I knew I must cross the clearing 
 to the west of the fort while yet the light 
 was dim, and bent every effort to that end. 
 The birds had begun their matin song in 
 the thickets, and were startled into silence 
 as I sped by. I passed to the rear of the 
 battery on the ridge, ran several rods 
 farther to the west, then pressed to the edge 
 of the open land. No alarm had been 
 sounded, so I was certain that my guard 
 still slept. 
 
 The outlines of the fort were taking form
 
 172 THE SON OP A TORY 
 
 in the gray air as I started on my flight to 
 ward the swamp. My footfalls stirred fresh 
 odors from the long grass. The dew soaked 
 my gaiters, and the briers tore at my hands. 
 I roused a rattlesnake near a decayed stump, 
 and startled a rabbit, which gave me a thrill 
 of fright, for from the sound I took it to be 
 an Indian. I bounded across the line of 
 the carrying-place, and saw before me the 
 slight declivity that led to the swamp land. 
 I could have shouted loud and long for 
 joy. It seemed to me that I went down 
 that slope on wings. With a swift plunge 
 I was deep among the cedars, and for the 
 first time since my escape from the tent I 
 paused to take breath. 
 
 After I had rested, I found myself a snug 
 hiding-place in a clump of thick trees, and, 
 reclining against the trunk of the largest, 
 ate half of the store of hard biscuit I had 
 saved from my evening meal. While thus 
 engaged the sky began quickly to brighten, 
 and peering up through the green gloom I 
 beheld the first glow of the sun. 
 
 Almost before I had finished breaking
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 173 
 
 my night-long fast, sleep came upon me. 
 Now I made no resistance. Indeed, had 
 there been reason for resisting, I much doubt 
 if I should have been able to hold out for 
 any length of time. The strain I had 
 passed through had been most severe, and 
 nature would assert itself. 
 
 It was ten o'clock when I awakened sud 
 denly, all my senses alert. Into the drowsy 
 quietude of the place there had come a 
 sound. Was it caused by a wild animal 
 making its way from point to point, or was 
 it an Indian? Intently I listened. I had 
 little fear that I should be discovered, so 
 dense was my place of concealment, and I 
 knew no redskin had stumbled upon my 
 trail, for the noise proceeded from the op 
 posite direction from the depths of the 
 swamp. The spot where I lay was about 
 midway between two Indian encampments, 
 so I could not conjecture why any of the 
 savages should be prowling about with such 
 caution in my vicinity. Moreover, I sup 
 posed that most of the Indians had gone 
 out under Sir John Johnson to surprise the 
 Continentals.
 
 174 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Presently it grew clear to me that some 
 creature, man or beast, was drawing near 
 my hiding-place. For a time I would hear 
 nothing save the far-off chirp of a bird, then 
 there would come a suspicious rustle, or a 
 twig would snap. I parted the branches 
 upon my left and looked out. Between the 
 clump where I was reclining and the next 
 dense growth of cedars was a space dotted 
 with hillocks of marsh-grass. Into this 
 space, in single file, advanced three men, 
 cautiously stepping from one secure footing 
 to another. The first I had never seen. 
 He was dressed in homespun, and wore a 
 cap of squirrel skin. He cast his keen eyes 
 from side to side as he advanced, and held 
 his rifle ready for instant use. In the sec 
 ond comer I recognized Adam Helmer, a 
 Whig well known at the Flatts, while the 
 third, to my great amazement, was my 
 friend John Demooth. 
 
 Here was fair fortune indeed, but how 
 was I to make my presence known without 
 alarming them and imperiling myself ? The 
 risk of discovery which they were taking
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 175 
 
 was great, and every man of them would 
 be swift to strike if he fancied danger 
 threatened. 
 
 I let the leader and Helmer pass without 
 attempting to reveal my presence, but when 
 my friend was opposite where I was hidden 
 I softly whispered his name. He did not 
 hear me, so I spoke again, this time louder. 
 Both he and Helmer stopped and raised their 
 guns. 
 
 "Who speaks?" cried Demooth, his face 
 blanched with suspense. 
 
 "A friend," I replied. 
 
 "A friend here!" he exclaimed. "In 
 heaven's name who are you?" 
 
 I parted the branches and stepped forth 
 into view. Demooth gasped and staggered 
 back. 
 
 "You! You! How " he began, when 
 Helmer interrupted him. 
 
 "An ambush!" he cried. "It's that 
 damned young Tory, Aubrey," and up went 
 his rifle to his shoulder. 
 
 "Fool," said Demooth, striking aside his 
 weapon, "he is no more a Tory than you 
 are!"
 
 176 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Helmer began to mutter, but Demooth 
 silenced him. 
 
 "I know what I am saying," he declared, 
 then he sprang forward and we embraced 
 each other. 
 
 " You are not a ghost after all, he said, 
 laughing and gripping my hand. " But how 
 in the name of wonder come you here, when 
 every one supposes your body to be some 
 where at the bottom of the Slanting 
 Waters?" 
 
 "It's a long story, and will keep till we 
 are in a safer place," I answered, "though 
 now that most of the Indians have left camp 
 I fancy there's little danger here." 
 
 "Where are the savages, pray?" 
 
 " Why, they marched off last night, with 
 some of the troops, under Sir John Johnson 
 and Brant, to meet your advancing force." 
 
 "Are you sure, Aubrey, are you sure?" 
 cried my friend in alarm. 
 
 "I know it to be so," I said. 
 
 "By heaven, I fear they'll surprise Gen 
 eral Herkimer!" exclaimed Demooth. 
 
 "Never fear for old Honikol," said Hel 
 mer, "they'll not catch him napping."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 177 
 
 Nor indeed would they have done so had 
 it not been for his impatient and mutinous 
 officers who forced him to order an advance 
 when his good sense told him to await the 
 signal for concerted action from the fort. 
 
 "You bear messages to the commander 
 of the fort? "I asked. 
 
 "Yes," Demooth replied. "We were 
 despatched last night by General Herkimer 
 from our camp near the Oriskany Creek, 
 but missed our way in the darkness." 
 
 As he spoke he began to move forward, 
 I at his side. 
 
 "Is all well at the Flatts?" I inquired. 
 
 I saw by his hesitancy in replying, brief 
 though it was, that there was something 
 he would keep back. 
 
 "All will be well when you appear again," 
 was the answer he made me. 
 
 I forbore to question him further, for our 
 movements now demanded our closest atten 
 tion, but I made up my mind that at the 
 earliest opportunity I would insist that 
 nothing be concealed from me. My joy at 
 the prospect of a speedy release from a
 
 178 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 position of peril was clouded by a sense that 
 fate might have in store for me still an 
 other blow. 
 
 We soon reached the edge of the swamp, 
 where Demooth, Helmer, and their com 
 panion tied their kerchiefs to the ends of 
 their rifle barrels. We sprang swiftly up 
 the slight acclivity to the line of the carry 
 ing-place. Happily between us and the 
 fort not a soul was in sight. Without hesi 
 tation we dashed forward, the three mes 
 sengers waving their improvised truce-flags 
 as we ran. Soon there was a rousing cheer 
 and friendly shouts of greeting from the 
 ramparts, and when we rounded the salient 
 which protected the entrance we found the 
 gates open to receive us.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 The Sortie 
 
 WITHOUT delay we were con 
 ducted to the quarters of the 
 commanding officer, Colonel 
 Gansevoort, where we were immediately 
 shown into his presence. He was at the 
 time conferring with Colonel Willett, the 
 officer second in command. Both men re 
 ceived us warmly, and listened with eager 
 interest to Demooth's messages from Gen 
 eral Herkimer. 
 
 The sortie which Herkimer desired was 
 at once agreed upon, though Colonel Ganse 
 voort expressed grave doubts as to its effi 
 cacy in diverting the attention of the enemy, 
 owing to the fact that the messengers had 
 been so long delayed. 
 
 "Have the men paraded at once," he 
 said to Colonel Willett, {< and call for volun 
 teers to the number of two hundred and 
 fifty to take part in the sortie. The signal 
 
 179
 
 180 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 guns announcing to Herkimer that his mes 
 sengers have arrived should meanwhile be 
 fired." 
 
 Colonel Willett hastened out to execute 
 these orders, while we remained for further 
 conference with the commander. The bear 
 ing of these officers impressed me much. 
 By their energy and alertness they showed 
 that they were soldiers, every inch of them. 
 Though Colonel Gansevoort was but little 
 older than myself, he had wisdom far 
 beyond his years. He had won distinction 
 with Montgomery at Quebec, and a more 
 valorous and determined officer for his 
 present trying position could not have 
 been found. Having heard a brief outline 
 of my story, he expressed the warmest 
 sympathy for me, and gave me his fullest 
 assurance that I was welcome within the 
 fort. He questioned me closely in regard 
 to the numbers and position of the enemy, 
 and I was glad to be able to give him infor 
 mation which he regarded as most valuable. 
 
 Shortly after the echo of the signal guns 
 died away we followed Colonel Gansevoort
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 181 
 
 from his quarters, and found the whole 
 garrison on parade. Colonel Willett was 
 addressing the men. 
 
 "Soldiers," he said, "General Herkimer 
 is on the march to our relief. Your com 
 mander believes that some of the enemy's 
 forces under Sir John Johnson, and their 
 Indian allies under Brant, have stolen away 
 during the night to meet him. Sir John's 
 camp is therefore weakened. As many of 
 you as are willing to follow me in an attack 
 upon it, and are not afraid to die for lib 
 erty, will shoulder arms and step one pace 
 forward." 
 
 Two hundred at once responded to this 
 call, and at the second appeal the addi 
 tional fifty who were desired volunteered. 
 
 As I listened to Colonel Willett's speech, 
 and saw the quick response with which it 
 was met, a sudden desire filled me. Walk 
 ing quickly to where he stood, I saluted 
 him. 
 
 "Have you room for one more recruit?" 
 I asked. 
 
 He did not understand the motives that
 
 182 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 prompted me as did Colonel Gansevoort, 
 yet he acceded promptly to my wish. 
 
 "Yes," he answered. "Let this man be 
 enrolled in Captain Van Benschoten's com 
 pany. 
 
 The officer named greeted me civilly, 
 and assigned to me a place in the ranks. 
 As we stood awaiting orders, I saw that 
 the west was ominous with dark banks of 
 clouds. With marvelous rapidity they 
 came rushing toward the zenith. Every 
 second the sky grew blacker. At length 
 there was a flash and a roar, as though a 
 battery of an hundred guns had opened 
 fire. 
 
 "To shelter, men," shouted Colonel Wil- 
 lett, and we sought cover with all haste. 
 
 For nearly an hour the storm raged, and 
 during this time I was enabled to quiet the 
 gnawings of my stomach, which had grown 
 rebellious under long neglect. The sun 
 came out from behind the rack burning 
 hot, and the ground began to steam with 
 vapor. The moment there was a gleam of 
 sunlight we again gathered under arms,
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 183 
 
 and a three-pounder was unlimbered for 
 action. 
 
 The success of our undertaking depended 
 upon quick movement, for the sentries at 
 Sir John's camp, who could be plainly seen 
 from the ramparts of the fort, would speed 
 ily discover us and give the alarm. Much 
 to my delight I found the position assigned 
 to me was in the advance guard. It would 
 have been a grievous disappointment had 
 Captain Van Benschoten's company been 
 detailed to protect the rear. 
 
 The gates of the fort were quietly opened, 
 and we emerged at double-quick. The 
 ground was slightly descending, and as 
 we charged down with a fierce determina 
 tion, the sentries caught sight of us, and 
 fled without firing a shot. So completely 
 did we take the enemy by surprise that the 
 soldiers at that time in camp had no oppor 
 tunity to form an organized resistance. A 
 scattered volley, which did no damage, 
 greeted us, and then there was a general 
 rush for the river. 
 
 I fancied I caught sight of Sir John John-
 
 184 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 son flying, hatless and coatless, in a most 
 undignified and precipate fashion, but as 
 I knew he had marched out at the head of 
 the troops the night before I concluded I 
 must be mistaken, unless for some reason 
 he had delegated the command to one of 
 his aides, and unexpectedly returned. 
 
 Discharging our muskets at the fugitives, 
 we dashed exultantly into their encamp 
 ment. 
 
 "This way to Sir John's tent!" I shouted 
 to an officer of about my own age who 
 chanced to be near me, Lieutenant Stock- 
 well, as I afterward learned. 
 
 "Lead on! " cried he, and into the head 
 quarters of the baronet I plunged with a 
 fierce delight. I confess, though it is little 
 to my credit, that the spirit of retaliation, 
 of revenge, call it by what name you 
 will, was hot within me. I recalled the 
 contemptible means Sir John had employed 
 to degrade and humiliate me, and over 
 turned his private belongings with a reck 
 less glee that surprised my companion. 
 
 "This will be entertaining reading!"
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 185 
 
 I exclaimed, as I pulled forth and displayed 
 Sir John's orderly book. "I will present 
 it to Colonel Willett." I was true to my 
 word, and I believe that gallant officer has 
 the Tory baronet's army record in his 
 possession to this day. 
 
 While we were rummaging among Sir 
 John's effects a part of the force had over 
 run the adjoining Indian encampment and 
 driven the few savages, who had failed to 
 accompany their comrades, into the woods. 
 This victorious party now returned, laden 
 with blankets and arms. So great were the 
 spoils captured that Colonel Willett was 
 obliged to send a squad of men to the fort 
 for several old army wagons, which had 
 long ago been used in transporting stores, 
 that the booty might be more easily re 
 moved. Three times were these wagons 
 loaded and unloaded before everything had 
 been transferred within the ramparts. A 
 vast amount of camp equipage was taken, 
 together with stores, clothing, arms, am 
 munition, and five British standards. These 
 last-named trophies were discovered by
 
 186 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 lieutenant Stockwell and myself. Various 
 private papers memoranda and journals 
 were also found which gave desirable 
 information to the besieged. 
 
 While the wagons were being loaded for 
 the last time a small force from St. Leger's 
 camp appeared upon the opposite side of 
 the river. Major Badlam opened upon 
 them with the three-pounder, and they 
 hurriedly retreated out of range. Present 
 ly, however, they were reinforced by a 
 troop under St. Leger himself , and advanced 
 firing upon us. But their shots were in 
 effectual, and as everything was now in 
 readiness, and nothing was to be gained by 
 an engagement with the river between, 
 Colonel Willett gave orders to retire. This 
 we did, discharging a parting volley, which 
 checked the enemy from further aggressive 
 demonstration. St. Leger was in a violent 
 passion. I distinguished his voice issuing 
 angry commands, and concluded that he had 
 been communing with his boon companion, 
 rum. 
 
 Those of the garrison who had remained
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 187 
 
 within the fort received us with great en 
 thusiasm, while the commander congratu 
 lated Colonel Willett and complimented 
 the men. 
 
 " We should raise a flag in honor of our 
 success," said Willett. 
 
 "True," returned Colonel Gansevoort, 
 "but we are so unfortunate as not to have 
 one." 
 
 "We can make one!" exclaimed Willett, 
 who was a man of many resources, and 
 harrying to his room in the commandant's 
 quarters, he soon returned bearing a blue 
 camlet cloak which he had taken from 
 a British officer in an engagement near 
 Peekskill. To this he added from the cloth 
 ing among the booty two scarlet coats and 
 several white shirts. 
 
 "There," cried he laughing, "is the ma 
 terial for our flag," and he dispatched 
 Lieutenant Stockwell to summon a sergeant 
 who was known to have considerable skill 
 with a needle. 
 
 On the 14th of June Congress had adopted 
 the stars and stripes as the design for the
 
 188 THE SON OP A TORY 
 
 national flag. Although this action had by 
 no means become generally known through 
 out the country, Colonel Willett had heard 
 of it, and so was able to superintend the 
 making of the banner. It was ready before 
 sunset, and amid the enthusiastic cheers of 
 the garrison was flung to the breeze from 
 the southwestern bastion, with the five 
 captured British standards beneath it. So 
 far as I have been able to learn this was 
 the first time the flag we have now all 
 grown to love was raised upon the land. 
 Thus did the sortie become, in more respects 
 than one, a memorable event. 
 
 The company to which I had been as 
 signed in the attack upon the British camp 
 was ordered to assist in disposing of the 
 booty, and I thought it incumbent on me 
 to lend a hand. This task accomplished, I 
 endeavored to find my friend Demooth. 
 Failing in this (I afterward learned that he 
 had fallen in with an acquaintance, and 
 gone to view a gun which was being oper 
 ated from one of the bastions), and chanc 
 ing to meet a soldier whom I recognized as
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 189 
 
 one of my comrades in the sortie, I begged 
 him to tell me where I could rest for a few 
 hours. He was good enough to take me 
 to his quarters in the barracks, and there, 
 worn out by my long watch of the previous 
 night, and by the exciting events of the 
 day, I fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep. 
 
 That evening I was more successful in 
 discovering the whereabouts of my friend, 
 and together we went to walk in a secluded 
 spot beneath the western ramparts. Late 
 in the afternoon the absent troops and the 
 Indians had returned to the British encamp 
 ment, and the latter were now showing their 
 rage over the losses they had sustained, for 
 it will be recalled that a part of our force 
 had plundered their camp during the sortie. 
 Their shouts and whoops rose with a venge 
 ful fierceness through the stillness of the 
 night, and ever and anon a futile volley 
 would suddenly be directed at one of the 
 bastions from some sheltered spot in the 
 forest. Here and there in the shadow near 
 us the sentries were crouching, keeping a 
 watchful lookout the while, and a subdued
 
 190 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 hum floated across to us from the barracks 
 and parade-ground where the soldiers were 
 discussing the events of the day. 
 
 "Now for your story," said Demooth. 
 
 Anxious though I was to question him 
 in regard to Margaret, I decided first to 
 satisfy his curiosity, and beginning with 
 my last night at the Flatts I gave him a 
 detailed account of what had happened to 
 me. He listened intently to the whole 
 recital, rarely interrupting me save with 
 some exclamation of sympathy or indigna 
 tion. 
 
 "There's the hand of Providence in all 
 this ! " he cried, when I had finished. " Mark 
 my word, Wilton, everything will turn out 
 happily for you. Even now events are 
 shaping themselves to that end. You must 
 realize that your father's life could not, 
 under the most favorable circumstances, 
 have been greatly prolonged. How much 
 better it was for him to slip away as he 
 did, than to live to witness the disappoint 
 ment and failure that are bound to attend 
 this expedition under St. Leger ! I tell you
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 191 
 
 it can 't succeed. Think of the hardships, 
 too, that he would have been forced to 
 endure! for the tide will turn presently, 
 and there will be a marching back, and not 
 a triumphal progress to Albany." 
 
 "Yes," I said, "I thought of what my 
 father had been spared when I was confined 
 in disgrace under guard, and was thankful 
 he was not there to witness my humiliation 
 though it may be had he been present 
 Sir John would not have dared to carry 
 out his spiteful revenge." 
 
 " Don't delude yourself! It would only 
 have pleasured him the more." 
 
 " But Sir John and my father were friends. 
 In fact it was the baronet who sent word 
 to my father that the expedition was under 
 way,, and bade him come to Oswego to join 
 it." 
 
 "True enough, but evidently he had not 
 taken you into consideration, and when he 
 found you upon the scene he mistrusted 
 you at once. You were impolitic enough 
 to make him your enemy, and revenge to 
 Sir John Johnson is sweeter than a score 
 of friendships."
 
 192 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 I was silent, for I felt Dexnooth was right. 
 Then I changed the subject suddenly. 
 
 "Tell me about Margaret," I said. 
 
 He must have known that some such re 
 quest would come, yet it seemed to put him 
 ill at ease. 
 
 "What is the trouble?" I asked, now 
 really alarmed. "Is she not well?" 
 
 "No, she is not," he replied. "That is 
 it. I fear your supposed death may have 
 affected her mind. And yet I believe she 
 is sane enough save on one point. She 
 says her brother is a murderer, and has not 
 spoken to him since that night. Poor fel 
 low ! I really pity him, though he did treat 
 you abominably." 
 
 "You see," my friend went on, "it came 
 about in this way. Herborn told me him 
 self. When he and the others who had 
 pursued you returned from the Slanting 
 Waters, Margaret met him at the door and 
 boldly demanded where you were. He had 
 been intending to take her to task for 
 meeting you had the outcome of the pur 
 suit been different, but under the circum-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 193 
 
 stances had not the heart to do so. He did 
 not attempt to conceal from her, however, 
 the fact of your supposed drowning. When 
 she heard this she told him he was a mur 
 derer, revealing to him in a wild burst of 
 emotion that you were not a Tory, but 
 chose to assume that position out of love 
 for your father and fears for his health 
 should he discover the truth. This state 
 ment Herborn did not at first believe, 
 thinking you had deceived Margaret, but 
 later, when the poor girl was recovering 
 from the shock " 
 
 "Recovering!" I cried. 
 
 "Yes, she kept her bed for two weeks. 
 When she was able to sit up she refused to 
 see her brother, and still called him a mur 
 derer. He came to me in his trouble, and 
 I assured him what Margaret had said in 
 regard to you was true. Then a realiza 
 tion of how he had misjudged you and ill- 
 treated you came over him, and he began 
 himself to feel that he had been the cause 
 of your death. His repentance and grief 
 were so sincere that both my sister and
 
 194 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 myself tried to effect for him at least a 
 partial reconciliation with Margaret, but to 
 no avail. He is obliged to absent himself 
 from home, his presence affects her so 
 seriously, and when my sister saw her a few 
 days since there was no mention of his 
 name." 
 
 "And is she changed?" I asked hesita 
 tingly. 
 
 "Alas! she is. But your reappearance 
 will bring the old look back." 
 
 "Would I might start for the Flatts this 
 very night!" 
 
 As I said this the vindictive Indian war- 
 cries rang out, wilder and fiercer than ever, 
 and the impossibility of carrying my wish 
 into effect smote me to the heart.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 The Tarry Within the Fort 
 
 AS my friend and I were returning 
 from our promenade beneath the 
 ramparts, we passed the com 
 mandant's quarters, and Colonel Willett 
 who was standing at the door recognized 
 and hailed us. 
 
 "We have bad news of General Herki- 
 mer's force," he said. "Come within." 
 
 We followed him to an inner room where 
 we found Colonel Gansevoort scanning a 
 letter by the light of two sputtering tallow 
 candles. He gave us a cordial greeting, 
 and handed the missive upon which he had 
 been intent to Demooth. 
 
 "I should say that communication was 
 dictated, and written under force," com 
 mented the latter, passing it to me after he 
 had hastily run his eyes over its contents. 
 "Provided the British were the victors, 
 which I am not willing to admit, St. Leger 
 
 195
 
 196 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 has by some means induced his prisoners 
 to exaggerate his success." 
 
 "That's exactly Colonel Willett's opinion 
 and mine," said the commander. 
 
 The missive had been delivered by 
 Colonel Butler about an hour previous with 
 a verbal demand to surrender. It was from 
 Colonel Bellinger and Major Frey, officers 
 in General Herkimer's command who had 
 that day been captured. In it Colonel 
 Gansevoort was apprised of the defeat, with 
 great loss, of General Herkimer's army, and 
 of the death of many of the leading officers, 
 including the General himself. The strength 
 of the besiegers was dwelt upon and sur 
 render advised. 
 
 "We'll at least wait until morning," said 
 Colonel Gansevoort, with a smile. "You 
 are not especially anxious, I presume, to 
 rush into the arms of your old friends to 
 night?" he added, as I returned to him the 
 letter. 
 
 " No, I think I shall rest better where I 
 am," I answered. "My bed in St. Leger's 
 camp would be anything but one of ease."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 197 
 
 When I reached the room in the barracks 
 where I had been lodged, I found some of 
 the men of Captain Van Benschoten's com 
 pany gathered about a soldier named Ful- 
 mer, a wiry, cadaverous fellow who had 
 marched upon my right in the sortie. 
 
 "Clement was shot there night before 
 last," I heard him say, "and Buell three 
 nights ago. I tell you I don't fancy it. 
 You may call me a coward if you like, but 
 I don't believe it's real cowardice to be 
 afraid of a ball in the dark. Why, I 'd rather 
 stand up in broad daylight before a whole 
 regiment." 
 
 I knew that Fulmer's bravery was beyond 
 question, and saw that the men sympathized 
 with him. 
 
 "What's he speaking about?" I asked of 
 one who stood at the edge of the group. 
 
 "He's on for late guard duty tonight in 
 the northwestern bastion, where two men 
 have been shot, and he doesn't like the 
 prospect. None of us would," the soldier 
 answered. 
 
 Something I had noticed the night St.
 
 198 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Leger sent me to Sir John Johnson's camp 
 flashed into my mind, and I pushed my 
 way to where Fulmer stood. 
 
 "What time do you go on guard?" I in 
 quired. 
 
 "Two o'clock/' he answered, recognizing 
 me at once. 
 
 "I'll stand guard with you, if you care 
 to have me." 
 
 "Care to have you! Give me your hand 
 on it. You're either a mighty brave man 
 or a fool." 
 
 "Oh, no, neither! only a chap with an 
 idea." 
 
 They were all curious to know what my 
 idea was, but I would not gratify them by 
 revealing what I had in mind. Telling 
 Fulmer to procure a tall stake, and a mal 
 let or hammer with which to drive it into 
 the earth, and bidding him call me when 
 he turned out, I tumbled into my rough 
 bunk and was soon sound asleep. 
 
 The Milky Way was a spangle of dancing 
 light as I left the barracks with Fulmer. 
 By day I should have presented a grotesque
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 199 
 
 appearance, for under one arm I carried a 
 soldier's hat and coat which I had borrowed, 
 and under the other a tightly corded bun 
 dle of straw. My companion had carefully 
 followed my instructions, and with our re 
 spective burdens we made our way to the 
 bastion. The sentry who was relieved did 
 not, in the darkness, notice our singular 
 preparations, and departed with a gruff 
 good-night. Fulmer pointed out to me the 
 spot where the two men had fallen. 
 
 "Here the stake should be driven," I said. 
 
 "I knew what you were up to," he an 
 nounced, "the moment I saw the coat and 
 hat.'* 
 
 It was not long before we had constructed 
 a dummy that by one standing a few rods 
 distant, provided the light was not too 
 strong, might readily be mistaken for a 
 man. 
 
 " Now we'll observe what develops," said 
 I, and stationing ourselves near an embra 
 sure we awaited the first glimmer of dawn. 
 
 As the earliest hint of a break in the 
 night showed itself, I bade my companion
 
 200 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 summon a gunner, and when the man came, 
 I asked him to load the four-pounder which 
 stood in the central angle of the bastion 
 with grape and canister. Then I requested 
 him to stay within call. 
 
 Fulmer and I returned to our vigil with 
 redoubled intentness, and presently, the 
 veil of gray that shrouded all things, grow 
 ing thinner, our watch was rewarded. The 
 sharp crack of a rifle rang out, and our straw 
 sentinel gave a quick jerk as the bullet 
 struck it. From the bushy top of a black 
 oak which every one had supposed to be 
 out of rifle range a little cloud of white 
 smoke curled slowly upward. The gunner 
 responded promptly to our call, the gun was 
 trained on the tree top, and, ere the echo 
 of the report had died away, a dark form 
 came crashing to the earth. Thus were the 
 two soldiers avenged. 
 
 "They'll not try that game again!" cried 
 Fulmer gleefully, and he spoke truly, for 
 thereafter the sentry in the northwest bas 
 tion was unmolested. 
 
 It must have been ten o'clock when John
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 201 
 
 Demooth came to awaken me, saying that 
 Colonel Gansevoort would be glad of my 
 presence at his quarters. Hastily making 
 myself presentable, I repaired thither, and 
 found the commander and several officers 
 awaiting me. The apartment where they 
 had gathered had been darkened and can 
 dles lighted. As I entered, my eye fell 
 upon Colonel Butler, Major Ancrom, and 
 another British officer whose name I did 
 not know seated opposite the doorway. 
 At sight of me Colonel Butler started to 
 his feet. 
 
 "I protest against the presence of that 
 person at this interview," he exclaimed in 
 a passion. 
 
 " Mr. Aubrey is here at my request, and 
 will remain," said Colonel Gansevoort 
 calmly. 
 
 The eyes of the two men met for a mo 
 ment, then the Tory colonel shrugged his 
 shoulders and resumed his seat. I was 
 given a chair, and then wine and cakes 
 were passed in ceremonious silence. Truly 
 it was a curious scene. The flickering
 
 202 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 candlelight cast wavering shadows on the 
 faces of all present, and undoubtedly ac 
 centuated the gravity of the occasion. 
 Presently Major Ancrom, who was the 
 spokesman of the deputation from the be 
 siegers, rose and addressed Colonel Ganse- 
 voort. 
 
 "I am directed," he said, "by Colonel 
 St. Leger, the officer commanding the army 
 now investing this garrison, to inform you 
 that he has, with much difficulty, prevailed 
 on the Indians to agree that if the garrison, 
 without further resistance, be delivered up, 
 with the public stores belonging to it, the 
 officers and soldiers shall have their bag 
 gage and private property secured to them. 
 And in order that the garrison may have a 
 sufficient pledge to this effect Colonel But 
 ler accompanies me to assure them that not 
 a hair of the head of any of them shall be 
 harmed." 
 
 Here he turned to Colonel Butler. 
 
 "That was the expression the Indians 
 used, was it not?" he said. 
 
 "It was/' answered the colonel.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 203 
 
 He then continued, still addressing his 
 remarks to Colonel Gansevoort. 
 
 "I am likewise directed to remind you 
 that the defeat of General Herkimer must 
 deprive the garrison of all hope of relief, 
 especially as General Burgoyne is now in 
 Albany." 
 
 This lie in regard to the whereabouts of 
 General Burgoyne was undoubtedly a part 
 of St. Leger's plan of intimidation. 
 
 "Sooner or later," the major went on, 
 "the fort must fall into our hands. Our 
 commander, from an earnest desire to pre 
 vent bloodshed, trusts the terms offered 
 will not be refused, as it will not be in his 
 power to make them again. It was with 
 great difficulty that he persuaded the In 
 dians to consent to the present arrangement, 
 since it will deprive them of plunder, which 
 they always set so much store by on similar 
 occasions. Should the terms proposed be 
 rejected," and here the major spoke more 
 deliberately, and with added emphasis, "it 
 will not be possible for Colonel St. Leger 
 to restrain the Indians, who are much exas-
 
 204 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 perated and very numerous, from plunder 
 ing property and destroying lives. Indeed 
 they threaten to march down the country 
 and burn the settlements and slay their in 
 habitants. Colonel St. Leger ardently hopes 
 that these considerations will have due 
 weight with you, that you will be induced, 
 by complying with the terms now offered, 
 to save yourself from future regret when 
 it will be too late." 
 
 Colonel Gansevoort signed to Colonel 
 Willett, who sat next to him, and the latter 
 rose to reply. His blue eyes were blazing 
 with indignation as he looked Major Ancrom 
 squarely in the face. 
 
 "You say, sir," he began, " that you come 
 from the colonel who commands the army 
 investing this fort. By your uniform you 
 appear to be a British officer. Your speech 
 stripped of it superfluities amounts to 
 this: that, if this garrison is not surrendered, 
 your commander will let loose his Indians 
 to wreak their devilish cruelties on defense 
 less women and children as well as men. 
 Let him reflect, should he do this, that
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 205 
 
 their blood will be upon his head, not ours. 
 We are at the post of duty. This garrison 
 was entrusted to our charge, and we will 
 take care of it. After you leave the fort 
 you may turn and look at its exterior, but 
 never expect to step within its walls again 
 unless you come as a prisoner. I consider 
 the message you have brought a degrad 
 ing one for a British officer to send, and 
 by no means reputable for a British offi 
 cer to carry. For my own part I declare, 
 before I would consent to deliver this 
 garrison to such a murdering set as your 
 army, by your own account, consists of, I 
 would suffer my body to be filled with 
 splinters and set on fire, a practice in which, 
 as you are aware, the horde of children-and- 
 women-killers who belong to your army 
 take particular delight." 
 
 There was a murmur of applause from 
 the Continental officers present when 
 Colonel Willett concluded. 
 
 "Am I to understand that this is your 
 reply?" cried Major Ancrom, turning to 
 Colonel Gansevoort, his face fairly livid 
 with rage.
 
 206 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "You are," was the answer. 
 
 "By God, you'll regret it!" 
 
 "Not if there's any justice in heaven." 
 
 We all thought the conference was now 
 at an end, but after a few more bitter words 
 had been exchanged, and the British officers 
 perceived that their brow-beating tactics 
 would avail nothing, Major Ancrom pro 
 posed, on behalf of St. Leger, an armistice 
 of three days. After Colonel Gansevoort 
 and Colonel Willett had conferred, this pro 
 posal was agreed to. The British officers 
 were then blind-folded, as they had been 
 when they came, and conducted outside the 
 fortifications. 
 
 The three days of the armistice proved 
 to be an interval of sore trial to my spirit. 
 Forced to inaction, I was left a prey to the 
 gloomiest forebodings in regard to Margaret. 
 Notwithstanding Demooth's assurances that 
 she would speedily be herself again on my 
 return, I began to picture her with unbal 
 anced mind, wandering, Ophelia-like, from 
 room to room. So possessed did I become 
 with the idea that unless I could immedi-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 207 
 
 ately reach her she would lapse into a 
 state of decline, and become permanently 
 demented, that my friend with difficulty 
 dissuaded me from attempting to pass 
 alone through the enemy's lines by night. 
 
 "Think what it would mean if you were 
 captured!" he said to me. "Do you imag 
 ine, that you, a deserter, one who has in 
 curred the enmity of Sir John Johnson, 
 would escape with your life? You would 
 be handed over to the tender mercies of 
 the red devils, and die in agony at the 
 stake. Why can't you be patient? The 
 siege is sure to be raised shortly, for they 
 can never take the fort, and a few days 
 will make no difference in Margaret's con 
 dition." 
 
 But be patient I could not, nor could I 
 agree with him in regard to what change 
 even a brief time might make in the state 
 of my beloved. 
 
 About noon on the fourth day after the 
 sortie, as I was crossing the parade-ground, 
 I met Lieutenant Stockwell with whom I 
 had grown to be on very friendly terms.
 
 208 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 He gave me a cheery "good-day" and held 
 out his hand. 
 
 "It is good-by as well as good-day," he 
 said seriously. "I am off with Colonel 
 Willett to-night on a dangerous mission 
 that is if the night be favorable." 
 
 "Whither," I inquired, "if it be no se 
 cret? " for I suddenly suspected what they 
 were about to attempt. 
 
 "We are going to try to get through the 
 enemy's lines," answered the lieutenant, 
 "and raise another force down the valley 
 for the relief of the fort. Colonel Willett, 
 you know is much thought of in Tryon 
 County." 
 
 Here was the very opportunity I coveted. 
 
 "Would the colonel consent to my join 
 ing you in the undertaking, think you?" I 
 asked. 
 
 He shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 "You can speak with him," he replied, 
 "but I very much doubt his consent. A 
 third would materially increase the danger 
 of discovery. Then have you considered 
 the risk? Should we be taken your fate
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 209 
 
 would be sealed. We might possibly get 
 off with our lives, but you would not have 
 the slightest chance." 
 
 " I have reasons for being willing to run 
 every risk." 
 
 I suspect I was terribly in earnest, for his 
 manner changed at this. 
 
 "Well for my part," he said. "I'm per 
 fectly willing you should join us. You'll 
 find Colonel Willett with the commander. '' 
 
 When I was shown in the two men were 
 discussing the proposed venture. I stated 
 my errand at once, but at first neither would 
 listen to my request. However, when I 
 explained more fully my reasons for wish 
 ing to be one of the party, and they saw 
 how much it meant to me, they had not the 
 heart to refuse. So I passed from the 
 depths to the heights, from despair to the 
 serenity of hope, at a single bound, such 
 magic changes will a turn in the tide of 
 events make in the human heart!
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 A Perilous Venture 
 
 night proved most auspicious 
 for our undertaking. Tumbled 
 masses of a murky hue hid the 
 stars and a sobbing wind was stirring 
 among the trees, when, hard upon mid 
 night, we crept out of the sally-port, and 
 began making our way cautiously toward 
 the river. A short distance up the stream 
 I recalled having seen a number of logs 
 floating in an eddy near the bank, and 
 thither we bent our steps with the inten 
 tion of using the timber to assist us in 
 crossing. Several years previous there 
 had been a saw-mill near by, and the logs 
 were undoubtedly some that had been 
 hewn and floated down, but found too 
 defective for use. 
 
 Having, without incident, gained the 
 point we sought, each one of us divested 
 himself of his coat, his breeches, and his 
 
 210
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 211 
 
 foot-gear, and fastened his possessions se 
 curely to a piece of water-logged timber. 
 Thus we pushed from the bank, the colonel 
 and Lieutenant Stockwell taking the lead. 
 So black was the night we could but faintly 
 distinguish the outline of the opposite 
 shore. Not a sound did we hear save the 
 sough of the wind and the hoarse murmur 
 of the current. For some reason the 
 Indians were silent. It was our plan, after 
 crossing the river, to strike for a distance 
 to the north of the stream, then to return, 
 and follow its course to the Flatts. 
 
 At first we had little difficulty in keep 
 ing near one another, but in mid-current I 
 was caught in a strong swirl and separated 
 from my companions. My log was so 
 heavily water-soaked that it proved hard 
 to manage, and when I reached the shore 
 I had no idea where the colonel and Lieu 
 tenant Stockwell had landed. The bank 
 was slippery with slime and, after having 
 floundered noisily in one spot in my at 
 tempt to find them, I concluded that rather 
 than further endanger my safety by still
 
 212 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 endeavoring to discover their whereabouts 
 it would be better to strike out for myself. 
 I selected what seemed a likely place to 
 gain the land, and was crawling noiselessly 
 up out of the water when my hand fell 
 upon the bow of an Indian canoe. I had 
 chanced upon one of the points of com 
 munication between the two shores. 
 
 In an instant my plans were changed, 
 and I decided that I would appropriate the 
 canoe and follow the river to the Flatts. I 
 groped about but could not find the paddle. 
 While I was considering what I should do, 
 I heard footsteps approaching, so there 
 was no choice left but to take to the river 
 again. This I did, drawing the canoe after 
 me. If I could not avail myself of it, I 
 could at least prevent another from putting 
 it to use, perhaps to my peril. 
 
 The current swept me swiftly away from 
 the spot, and while with one arm I gripped 
 fast upon the log, with the other I kept 
 firm hold on the canoe. I soon realized, 
 however, that this method of procedure 
 was impracticable. It was impossible for
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 213 
 
 me, while in the water, to transfer my 
 clothes, which were bound tightly to the 
 log, to the canoe, and without a paddle the 
 little craft was useless; so, although not 
 without regret, I let it slip from my grasp. 
 I now conceived the bold idea of keeping 
 in mid-stream, and drifting past Sir John 
 Johnson's camp and the redoubt he had 
 erected on the river-bank to guard the 
 carrying-place. I felt confident that even 
 the sharpest-eyed sentry would discover 
 nothing suspicious in a log floating with 
 the current, if, indeed, in the thick gloom 
 he saw it at all. 
 
 For a time all went well. In fact, I was 
 about congratulating myself that I was 
 safe, when my log encountered a snag and 
 became so wedged among the debris col 
 lected by the obstruction that I began to 
 despair of getting it loose. I could hear 
 a sentry pacing his beat upon the bank, 
 and consequently had to be most guarded 
 in my endeavors to free my tree-trunk 
 pilot. I was on the point of abandoning 
 it, when, by a supreme last effort I sue-
 
 214 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 ceeded in parting it from the rest of the 
 mass of wreckage, and went drifting on 
 again unobserved. 
 
 I now began to feel the effects of my 
 long immersion, and yet I did not dare to 
 leave the river. I was fully a third of a 
 mile from the carrying-place before I ven 
 tured to quit the stream, and then it was 
 with difficulty that I could pull myself 
 upon the bank, so exhausted was I. Un 
 fastening my clothes from the log, I took 
 a deep swallow from the flask I had had 
 the forethought to bring with me, a draught 
 that set my blood stirring. Then I wrung 
 out my dripping under-garments, re-clad 
 myself, had a second pull at the flask, and 
 set out to seek the Albany road, for I had 
 risked landing on the south side of the 
 river. 
 
 It was not long before I found the rough 
 highway which had been cut through dur 
 ing the French and Indian War, and over 
 this I went stumbling blindly and weakly, 
 intent on putting between myself and the 
 fort as great a distance as might be before 
 dawn.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 215 
 
 As I paused where the road dipped into 
 a swale, just as the night was lifting, I de 
 tected the foul odor of carrion. The sick 
 ening smell grew when I began descending, 
 and presently, with a startling swish of 
 wings and a furious clamor, a great flock 
 of crows swept upward to the hemlock 
 tops. Upon the scene of what dread 
 tragedy was I advancing ? I hesitated, but 
 considering that if I turned back and 
 sought another route I might lose myself 
 in the wilderness, I pressed resolutely for 
 ward. As I reached the base of the de 
 clivity where the road logs laid in the 
 mire crossed the swamp-land, a wolf with 
 an angry snarl sprang from my path into 
 the tangled thicket. 
 
 I could see but dimly, yet I now knew 
 that I had come upon the battle-field, the 
 spot where Herkimer and his men had en 
 countered Sir John Johnson and the Indians. 
 Before me was heaped a pile of corpses, 
 friends and foes who had expired in the 
 death grapple. Here lay one who had 
 fallen face downward in the swale, only his
 
 216 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 legs being visible; there was stretched 
 another, the lower portion of whose body 
 was immersed,, the ghastly and distorted 
 countenance being lifted skyward. 
 
 When the grisly horror of it all smote 
 me, a temporary strength was infused into 
 my tottering limbs. I leaped over the 
 prostrate forms; I fled up the opposite 
 slope, panting, straining, as though all the 
 fabled fiends of the under-world were at 
 my heels. But this effort was the last 
 desperate brightening of a dying flame. I 
 blundered from the roadway into the woods, 
 reeled a few paces among the trees, caught 
 my foot upon a projecting root, and fell for 
 ward at full length. A vision of Margaret 
 seemed to dance before my eyes, and then 
 came the utter blackness of oblivion. 
 
 When I recovered my senses the wood 
 was humming with the noises of mid-day. 
 Every bone in my body ached, and my 
 head snapped with pain. Crawling into 
 the sunlight, I propped myself against a 
 mossy hillock, and there I laid for hours 
 with closed eyes. The sun-bath proved an
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 217 
 
 excellent medicine, for late in the afternoon 
 my head ceased its terrible throbbing, and 
 the rackings pains left my joints. The 
 nausea which I had experienced on awak 
 ening also disappeared, and I was able to 
 partake sparingly of the cheese and hard 
 biscuit which I had brought with me. 
 Moreover, I discovered a spring welling up 
 in a mossy basin close at hand, and the 
 copious draughts I had from it helped 
 materially to relieve my distress. 
 
 Further progress that day, however, was 
 out of the question, so I set about making 
 myself as comfortable as possible for the 
 night. From the scrub hemlocks I cut a 
 great heaps of boughs, and, burrowed among 
 these, I slept restfully and soundly. I was 
 much encouraged the next morning to find 
 how little soreness remained in my limbs, 
 and after breakfasting (I managed to eke 
 out my meal with blackberries, which grew 
 about me in abundance) I set out toward 
 the Flatts, having first cut a stout hickory 
 staff to prop my steps. 
 
 I made a brave start, and nattered my-
 
 218 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 self that I was going to progress famously, 
 but I very quickly discovered that I had 
 little endurance. I was forced to pause 
 frequently to rest, and when sunset came 
 had traversed scarcely ten miles. I did 
 not allow myself to become disheartened, 
 however, impatient though I was to look 
 into the eyes of my love, to hear her voice, 
 and to know once more the heaven of her 
 kiss. 
 
 Casting about for a place to pass the 
 night, I finally selected a willow copse close 
 to a ford in the Mohawk, and not very far 
 distant from the site of the present thriving 
 town of Utica. Hard by, on the river 
 bank, was a clearing used as a camping- 
 place by travelers on their way to Fort 
 Stanwix, and the west and north. I was 
 debating whether I could with safety start 
 a fire, when I was startled and astonished 
 to hear the murmur of voices. Creeping 
 to the edge of the clearing, I was just in 
 time to see appear from the direction of 
 Fort Stanwix a dozen or more white men 
 and nearly as many Indians. The leader
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 219 
 
 of the party was Walter Butler, the son of 
 Colonel Butler, at this time a lieutenant in 
 the "Rangers," and later one of the most 
 bitter and cruel of all the Tory leaders. 
 Much to my surprise, and not a little to my 
 regret, I discovered that my quondam com 
 panion and friend, Van Eyck, was acting 
 as guide to the expedition. That they 
 were bent upon some sort of mischief I 
 had no doubt, and I resolved to thwart 
 them if I could. 
 
 From my hiding-place I watched them 
 make hasty preparations for supper, and, 
 as fortune would have it, during their meal 
 Butler, Van Eyck, and several others sat 
 within ear-shot, so that I was able to catch 
 detached scraps of their conversation. 
 
 "You know this man Shoemaker?" I 
 heard Butler say. "There's no doubt 
 
 / 
 
 about his loyalty?" 
 
 "Not the slightest," returned Van Eyck. 
 "He's true to the core. His house, as I 
 think I told you, is a mile and a hah , or 
 thereabouts, from the Flatts, and is just the 
 place for a meeting. No one will dream of 
 our presence there."
 
 220 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "You think the gathering will be a large 
 one?" 
 
 "I am certain of it. Our coming has 
 been announced to all sympathizers with 
 the king's cause by the most trusty mes 
 sengers. The affair is sure to be a great 
 success." 
 
 " Certainly the proclamation should influ 
 ence any who are halting between two 
 courses of action." 
 
 "Aye! it should, and will, if there chance 
 to be any such present." 
 
 Here a third broke in with something 
 that failed to reach me, and I could not 
 gather the drift of what followed. Soon, 
 however, Butler turned to Van Eyck again. 
 
 "Eight is the hour for the rendezvous, 
 I think you said." 
 
 "Yes. It seemed best to wait until 
 dusk, though there's not the slightest dan 
 ger of an interruption." 
 
 "We shall not need to make an early 
 start, then." 
 
 " No, it would hardly be wise. Mid-day 
 will be quite soon enough. We are much
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 221 
 
 less likely to be observed here than in the 
 vicinity of Shoemaker's." 
 
 This was all I cared to know. I stole 
 from the spot, and when I finally stretched 
 myself out for the night, on a wooded 
 slope fifty yards from the highway, I was 
 fully a mile from the Tory and Indian 
 encampment. 
 
 I felt quite myself on the following 
 morning, and set my face toward my goal 
 soon after day-break. I was forced, how 
 ever, to take a long rest at noon-tide, so 
 afternoon was waning before the houses of 
 the Flatts met my view. As I caught sight 
 of the familiar rude and unpainted build 
 ings, tears started to my eyes, and a wave 
 of emotion swept through me. "At last," 
 I thought, "I am nigh unto my heart's 
 desire." 
 
 For the present I was anxious to escape 
 recognition, so I slouched my hat over my 
 brows, kept my gaze averted, and affected 
 a limp that was wholly unnatural. The 
 scraggly growth of beard upon my face 
 aided in the disguise. A settler whom I
 
 222 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 knew slightly met me at the outskirts of 
 the Flatts, and took me to be one of Her- 
 kimer's force who had been wounded and 
 left for dead, and was now making his be 
 lated way homeward. It was from the lips 
 of this man that I learned the brave General 
 Herkimer was still living, though sorely 
 wounded, and had not been slain in battle, 
 as Colonel Bellinger and Major Frey had 
 reported. Alas, that this valiant soldier and 
 patriot was not destined to recover, but was 
 fated to lose his life at the hands of a bung 
 ling surgeon ! 
 
 After I had passed unrecognized through 
 the first encounter I took courage, and 
 went more boldly forward. Fortunately 
 for my purpose the afternoon was sultry, 
 and there were few folk abroad. 
 
 Without further challenge I reached the 
 fort. Here I felt more at ease, for I was 
 quite unknown, save possibly by name. To 
 the guard at the gateway, who demanded 
 my business, I replied that I wished to see 
 the comander of the post. The fellow re 
 garded me with suspicion, which caused me
 
 THE SON OP A TORY 223 
 
 no surprise, for I realized that I looked like 
 a veritable outcast. However, he sum 
 moned an officer who chanced to be within 
 hail, and as the latter approached I addressed 
 him. 
 
 "I have important news for your com 
 mandant," I said. "Will you take me to 
 him at once?" 
 
 "Whence do you come?" he asked. 
 
 "From Fort Stanwix." 
 
 "Ah! then you are the young man of 
 whom Colonel Willett spoke." 
 
 "Yes, I left Fort Stanwix with the colonel 
 and Lieutenant Stockwell. Are they here 
 now?" 
 
 " No, they went on toward Albany this 
 morning to meet General Arnold, who is 
 marching to the relief of the fort." 
 
 I was shown into the presence of the com 
 manding officer, Colonel Weston, who, when 
 I revealed to him my identity, was exceed 
 ingly gracious. 
 
 "Colonel Willett and Lieutenant Stock- 
 well feared that the most serious of all 
 mishaps had befallen you, Mr. Aubrey
 
 224 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 that you had fallen into the hands of the 
 Indians." 
 
 "I should certainly not care to repeat 
 my experience," I said, "though I was at no 
 time in actual danger of being captured." 
 
 Then I gave him in brief an account of 
 my adventures. When I told him I had 
 overheard the plans of Butler and his com 
 panions his genial face glowed with satis 
 faction. 
 
 "We'll prepare a little surprise for the 
 lieutenant; eh, Mr. Aubrey?" cried the 
 delighted colonel. "I suppose you wouldn't 
 mind having a hand in it after you have 
 had some dinner and rested yourself a bit! 
 And ? by the by, you look as though dinner 
 were the thing of which you were most in 
 need." 
 
 "I have been doing a hermit's penance 
 for two days and a half," I replied, "and 
 wouldn't at all object to trying the part of 
 the returned prodigal." 
 
 He laughed merrily at this, and bade me 
 be his guest. When I sat down at the plain 
 yet plentiful board a brush and a razor had
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 225 
 
 wrought a decided change in my outward 
 appearance, and when I rose there was 
 quite as great a change in the inner man. 
 
 "I must see this affair through, "I 
 thought, "for I cannot well avoid it, and 
 then Margaret!"
 
 I 
 
 At Shoemaker's 
 
 garrison of Fort Dayton was 
 made up of scarred and hardened 
 veterans of the Massachusetts 
 line. For the expedition which we were 
 about to undertake fifty picked men were 
 enrolled, and placed under the command of 
 Captain Borring, the officer who had con 
 ducted me to Colonel Weston. Promptly 
 at eight o'clock we left the fort. The cap 
 tain, by whose side I marched, proved him 
 self to be a most agreeable companion. 
 He entertained me by his nimble wit, and 
 showed by his conversation that he had a 
 lively fancy for an adventure. He pressed 
 me with questions in regard to my recent 
 experiences, lamented Herkimer's misfor 
 tune, berated the general's injudicious aids 
 who were responsible for what had at first 
 threatened to be an irretrievable disaster, 
 grumbled that he was confined to garrison 
 
 226
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 227 
 
 duty when he longed to be in the field, 
 in short until we reached Van Eyck's Rift, 
 where we were to cross the river, he kept 
 up such a vivacious flow of talk that I had 
 no opportunity to inquire as to his pro 
 posed plan of procedure. 
 
 When we stood upon the opposite bank 
 of the stream, however, his manner changed. 
 Gathering the men about him he issued a 
 few sharp orders. 
 
 "You will march forward in double file," 
 he said, " until I give the word to halt, and 
 there must be no talking in the ranks." 
 
 "My idea," he continued, in an under 
 tone, turning to me as we led the way, " is 
 to let the Tories have a chance to become 
 fully engrossed in their counsels, and then 
 walk in and seize them red-handed, as it 
 were." 
 
 A spectral vapor had risen above the 
 river and marshes, and through widening 
 strips of it we needs must pass as we held 
 upon our course. It filled the air with a 
 chilly dampness that caught one by the 
 throat, and I was heartily glad when we
 
 228 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 gained higher ground. Here, however, the 
 noises of the bottom lands still kept pace 
 with us, dismal, hoarse, and eerie croak- 
 ings, that often seemed to fall into time 
 with our footsteps. 
 
 "Egad, hut that's a mournful tune to 
 march to!" said Captain Borring, beneath 
 his breath. " It would give one the blue 
 devils before moonrise." 
 
 These were the only words I heard 
 spoken (save a smothered execration from 
 one of the soldiers who set his foot into a 
 rut or boghole) from the time we left the 
 river bank until we halted at the mouth of 
 a wide gully about two hundred yards from 
 the Shoemaker house. At this point the 
 captain commissioned me to act as guide. 
 I had several times penetrated a consider 
 able distance into the gully in search of 
 partridges, and recalled once, on returning 
 from one of these excursions, I had climbed 
 a ridge upon the right that had been de 
 nuded of trees, and come out in the rear of 
 the Shoemaker farm buildings. Although 
 the night had measurably thickened during
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 229 
 
 the last quarter of an hour, I had full con 
 fidence that I should be able to detect the 
 spot where I had left the gully. Just 
 above it, at the base of the declivity, the 
 spring torrents had laid bare a bed of clay 
 which shone almost chalky white in the 
 daylight. Even in the dark it could hardly 
 fail to catch the eye. 
 
 It turned out as I had anticipated. The 
 clay-bed made a clearly distinguishable 
 line in the gloom, we scaled the ridge with 
 out accident, and descended into a little 
 glade where there was a young apple 
 orchard. Leaving the men here, Captain 
 Borring and I crept forward to reconnoitre. 
 We advanced with extreme care, thinking 
 some of the Indians might have been 
 posted as guards, but it soon became evi 
 dent that the Tories had not deemed such 
 a precaution necessary. We had about 
 concluded that no watch whatever had been 
 set, and were congratulating ourselves on 
 the fact, when the rear door swung back 
 to admit a tardy comer. It was closed in 
 stantly, but the flood of light that for a
 
 230 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 breathing space streamed out (all the win. 
 dows had been completely darkened) re 
 vealed the figure of a solitary sentinel. 
 There was no mistaking the thin form and 
 the eccentric attitude. The man was Yan 
 Eyck. 
 
 "We shall have to dispose of that fellow," 
 said the captain. "Do you keep an eye on 
 the house while I bring up the men." 
 
 "Very well," I answered. 
 
 Nothing could have fallen out more 
 favorably for my design. I had previously 
 decided that if Van Eyck were captured 
 with the others I would intercede with 
 Colonel Weston in his behalf, for I would 
 not have it supposed that I was so ungrate 
 ful as to forget the debt I owed him. Here, 
 however, was an opportunity to allow him 
 to escape. Could I prevail upon him to 
 accept the chance ? I resolved to try. 
 
 As soon as the shadows had enveloped 
 the captain's form I slipped from the shel 
 ter of the wood-pile, where we had halt 
 ed, to the well-sweep, and thence to the 
 corner of the house. Passing with all
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 231 
 
 possible haste to the front of the building, 
 I struck into the path by which the late 
 arrival had approached, and stepped briskly 
 and unhesitatingly toward the door where 
 Van Eyck stood guard. 
 
 "Halt!" said he. "Your name." 
 
 "Mr. Van Eyck, is it not?" I returned, 
 disguising my voice. 
 
 " Van Eyck it is, but speak up ! Who 
 may you be?" 
 
 ' e One who would have a word with you 
 before he enters." 
 
 "Well, out with it!" 
 
 "Not here. Come a pace or two aside. 
 I have my reasons." 
 
 He hesitated a second, then, grunting 
 assent, retired a short distance. Following 
 him closely, as soon as he paused I spoke 
 in my natural tone. 
 
 "Are you quite sure you don't know 
 me?" I asked. 
 
 He clutched me by the arm, and thrust 
 his face so near to mine that I caught the 
 steely glint of his eyes. 
 
 "By God, it's Aubrey!" criedhe. "How
 
 232 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 come you here? They told me you had 
 deserted." 
 
 "They told you the truth," said I, it 
 being my purpose to withhold nothing 
 from him. " My heart was never with the 
 king's cause. It was solely on my father's 
 account that I fled to Oswego." 
 
 "And you were a Whig all along?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then why, in the name of " He 
 broke short. The reason for my presence 
 dawned upon him. 
 
 "Damnation!" he hissed, in a rage, 
 "you've got us trapped!" 
 
 "Hush!" I cried. "There are fifty 
 armed men within call. In two minutes 
 three at the most the house will be sur 
 rounded. Now the way is clear. Quick, 
 go!" 
 
 "Go, and leave my friends unwarned! 
 That's not old Van Eyck's kind of a trick, 
 young man," and he endeavored to push 
 by me. 
 
 1 was not easily put aside, however, and 
 laid hold upon him desperately.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 233 
 
 "You are in the enemy's country," I 
 exclaimed, " and if you are taken it will be 
 hard to prove you are not a spy. They 
 hang spies. ' 
 
 He halted in indecision. 
 
 "The Whigs of the Flatts have little 
 cause to love you," said I. "They will 
 show you but scant mercy." 
 
 "It would be a coward's act," said he. 
 
 "What have you to gain?" I cried. 
 "Your warning can avail nothing." 
 
 I was now in a panic lest he should hesi 
 tate until it was too late. 
 
 Suddenly he started. His keen ear had 
 detected a suspicious sound. Captain Bor- 
 ring and the soldiers were evidently ap 
 proaching. He wavered, swore under his 
 breath, then grasped my hand and pressed 
 it until I cringed. 
 
 "You've bested us," said he, "but I for 
 give you. Good-bye; you've seen the last 
 of old Van Eyck." So he vanished in the 
 night, nor, indeed, did I ever put eyes 
 upon him, or hear aught of him, again. 
 But I have kept his rough presence green
 
 234 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 in memory, for despite his violent preju 
 dices and uncouth ways he was true at 
 heart, and a firm friend in the time of sore 
 trouble. 
 
 Van Eyck gone, I turned in the direction 
 of the wood-pile. As I drew near I was 
 aware of a figure standing alone in the 
 gloom. Instinct told me it must be the 
 captain. 
 
 "Are the men all here?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied he, "but what of the 
 sentry? Is he still on guard?" 
 
 "No, he has taken to his heels." 
 
 "How's that?" demanded he, in astonish 
 ment. 
 
 I had no knowledge how he would 
 receive my explanation, nevertheless I 
 resolved I would be perfectly frank with 
 him. 
 
 "I knew the man," I said, " and was deeply 
 in his debt. There seemed to be a chance 
 to square accounts, and I took advantage 
 of it. I pledge you my word he was only 
 a poor instrument. The leading spirits are 
 within."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 235 
 
 "I don't blame you in the least," was 
 the captain's only comment upon my con 
 fession, and he showed his consideration 
 and confidence in my good faith by never 
 afterward referring to the matter by so 
 much as the slightest hint. 
 
 A cordon was now drawn about the house. 
 Word was passed bidding the men be on 
 the alert, and then Captain Borring threw 
 back the door. With swords loosened and 
 pistols tightly gripped we strode through 
 the narrow entrance into the room where 
 the gathering had assembled. Lieutenant 
 Butler was in the midst of his harangue. 
 
 "Let a deputation be sent at once," we 
 heard him say, "advising the garrison at 
 Fort Stanwix to surrender." 
 
 At this instant his eyes fell upon us, and 
 he ceased speaking. 
 
 "Treachery!" he shouted, springing 
 from the chair upon which he was mounted. 
 "Out with the lights!" 
 
 "Hold!" cried Captain Borring, present 
 ing his pistol. "The man who moves does 
 so at his peril. Resistance is useless, gentle 
 men; the house is surrounded."
 
 236 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Dismay and chagrin smote the crowd. 
 At a word from the captain, I stepped to 
 the door and called in a sergeant with a 
 squad of men. Such of our prisioners as 
 carried arms were relieved of them amid 
 muttered oaths and vain protestations. At 
 first I was not recognized, but presently a 
 whisper spread among our discomforted 
 captives, and exclamations of reproach and 
 anger assailed me from all sides. The hiss 
 of "traitor" was loud in my ears, and Lieut 
 enant Butler approached me menacingly, 
 his- hands clenched and his handsome face 
 dark with scorn. 
 
 "Doubtless we have you to thank for 
 this," said he. 
 
 "You natter me, lieutenant," I replied. 
 I had never fancied his plausible, insinuat 
 ing, patronizing ways, and could not for 
 bear answering him as I did. 
 
 "It was an ill hour when the Slanting 
 Waters gave you back to life," said one who 
 dwelt in the vicinity, and who shared the 
 general belief at the Flatts that I was dead. 
 This sentiment appeared to be unanimous
 
 THE SON OP A TORY 237 
 
 among the Tories, but I was in no wise cast 
 down thereat. 
 
 With a few exceptions those from the 
 immediate neighborhood who had given 
 heed to the call issued by Sir John, Colonel 
 Glaus, and Colonel Butler were allowed to 
 depart with the admonition that they keep 
 the peace. The others were marched away 
 to the fort to await the arrival of the ex 
 pected expedition of relief from Albany, 
 and the action of court-martial.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 My Home-Coming 
 
 AT the gateway of the fort I took 
 leave of Captain Borring. I had 
 been much preoccupied during 
 our return march, and although I endeav 
 ored to answer my companion's sallies, he 
 being at the very top of a gay mood, I 
 realized that I made but lame work of it. 
 In truth, now that I considered my duty 
 done, my mind was too full of my beloved 
 to give more than a moment's harboring to 
 other thoughts. Had her health further 
 declined since Demooth left the Flatts? 
 Should I be able to see her that night? 
 How should I manage to reveal myself to 
 her and to her mother without causing them 
 alarm? These and kindred queries passed 
 and repassed through my brain as I hastened 
 along the valley road. It was no longer 
 dark, for the moon had burst through the 
 fleecy clouds in the south east, and illu- 
 
 238
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 239 
 
 mined the earth with a pale silvery glow. 
 The crickets were chirring loud in the 
 stubble, but save for their rhythmic cheer 
 a great calm possessed the air. 
 
 I went forward, hat in hand, letting the 
 refreshing breeze out of the west play 
 about my temples, my breast filled with 
 conflicting emotions with courage and 
 with fear, with the gravest misgivings and 
 with the fondest hopes. A light in the 
 lower windows of the house of Farmer 
 Demooth encouraged me to think that I 
 might find Margaret and her mother still 
 astir. I quite forgot my fatigue, and struck 
 into a swinging Indian lope. Even then I 
 could not keep pace with my desire which 
 winged ahead of me like an unjessed bird. 
 When I reached the boundaries of the Her- 
 born estate my mind reverted to my last 
 tryst with Margaret. Naturally in this con 
 nection the figure of her half brother ob 
 truded itself upon me. John Demooth had 
 told me that Herborn was with one of the 
 companies under Herkimer's command. 
 Doubtless he had participated in the san-
 
 240 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 guine conflict in the ravine at Oriskany. 
 Had he come off unharmed, I wondered, 
 and if so, after what manner would we greet 
 one another when we first encountered? 
 That we should ultimately grow to be good 
 friends I had no doubt, but I could not 
 deny to myself the possible awkwardness 
 and constraint of our first meeting. 
 
 The sight of my beloved's home caused 
 all consideration of Herborn to vanish from 
 my thoughts. With renewed speed I 
 bounded forward. Was it the glimmer of 
 a candle that I saw, or was it but the 
 delusive moonlight slanting upon the win 
 dow panes? Alas, it proved to be the 
 latter! As I paused in front of the house 
 something in the silence smote me with 
 dread. I opened the gate and passed into 
 the yard, my eyes upon the windows of 
 the room which I knew Margaret occupied. 
 Was she there? Ah, what would I not 
 give for one glimpse of her sweet face ! 
 
 " Margaret ! " I called softly. The sound 
 melted into the night. Again I spoke her 
 name, and waited. There was no response.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 241 
 
 I walked to rear of the house, and looked 
 about, but found no sign of a living thing. 
 
 "Why should there be at this hour?" I 
 meditated, yet I could not rid myself of the 
 notion that all was not right. Not a breath 
 of noise came from the stables. Every 
 where was the same ominous quiet. 
 
 My mood was one of uneasiness and 
 depression when I again sought the road, 
 and though I tried to reason myself out of 
 my low spirits as I slowly retraced my steps 
 over the ground I had trod so buoyantly a 
 brief time before, I had but poor success. 
 Repeatedly I assured myself that I had not 
 the least cause to be disappointed or dis 
 turbed. How could I expect, I argued 
 mentally, to find two women astir at such 
 an hour, for it was now considerably past 
 the stroke of ten ! The stable boy, and the 
 man who assisted Herborn in cultivating 
 the place would naturally both have retired. 
 All this was perfectly plausible, but the 
 gloom would not lift, and the fact that 
 there was no longer a light in the windows 
 of the Demooths added to my dejection.
 
 242 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 My feet seemed weighed down with lead, 
 and when I reached the gateway of the 
 fort I was ready to collapse. The sentry 
 admitted me, and I stumbled to the room 
 in the officers' quarters which Colonel 
 Weston had been good enough to place at 
 my disposal for the night. There I cast 
 myself upon the cot and slept the sleep of 
 sheer exhaustion. 
 
 My condition was more normal when I 
 went out beneath the sky of the morning. 
 It was one of God's own days, full of the 
 tonic of youth. From rim to rim of the 
 heaven there was not a film of vapor. In 
 the dewy fields, beyond the fort and the 
 houses of the Flatts, bird voices were rais 
 ing melodious matins. 
 
 I joined several of the officers at mess, 
 and received the hearty thanks of Colonel 
 Weston for my share in the capture of the 
 previous evening. 
 
 " We shall wish your testimony when the 
 court-martial sits," concluded the Colonel. 
 
 "I am wholly at your service," said I. 
 "You will find me, when you wish me, at
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 243 
 
 my father's place. I shall doubtless go up 
 there sometime during the day." 
 
 Before breakfast was over I grew uneasy 
 to be off. The calling of my heart would 
 not let me be still. Once a-foot, I flung 
 out a laugh at the remembrance of the 
 previous night's folly and fear. I swung on 
 toward the house of the Demooths, know 
 ing that I was the bearer of good news 
 from their son, as blithly as ever sped the 
 bringer of joyful tidings. I quite forgot 
 that I was not supposed to be in the land 
 of the living, and when I saw Farmer 
 Demooth ("Farmer" he was often called, 
 although why no one was able to say) cross 
 ing the road several yards in front of me, 
 driving some of his cattle toward the pas 
 ture opposite the house, I holloaed to him 
 loudly. He stopped in mid-road and looked 
 at me, took a backward step, shaded his 
 eyes first with one hand and then with 
 both, started forward a few paces and threw 
 up his arms. He was coatless and corpu 
 lent, and an on-looker might have fancied 
 he was about to fall into some sort of a fit.
 
 244 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "I declare," he cried, "if it isn't Wilton 
 Aubrey! Why, lad, we thought you were 
 dead." 
 
 As I came up he gave me an honest 
 hand-grip, and I knew he was glad I was 
 in the flesh. 
 
 "Come in!" said he, "come in! My 
 soul, what will the women say!" 
 
 He allowed me no chance to speak, but 
 began calling to his wife and daughter, 
 pulling me in the meanwhile toward the 
 house. 
 
 "Martha!" he shouted, "Bertha! see 
 who's come back to life ! " 
 
 Finally the two women heard his cries, 
 and appeared in the doorway, Bertha 
 Demooth hard at her mother's heels. Both 
 of them regarded me in speechless amaze 
 ment. 
 
 "Arn't you glad to see me again?" said 
 I. "I bring you good news of John. I 
 left him but a few days ago in Fort Stan- 
 wix." 
 
 "John ! Fort Stanwix ! " the three echoed. 
 "You have been there!"
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 245 
 
 Then they all laid hold upon me, and I 
 must perforce go in and relate to them the 
 chief facts of my story, listen to their ex 
 clamations and answer their questions, 
 while every moment of delay was torture 
 to me. Finally I could bear it no longer, 
 and turned to Bertha Demooth. 
 
 "Margaret," said I, "what of her?" 
 
 "Margaret!" repeated she, "then you 
 don't know?" 
 
 "Know what, in heaven's name?" said 
 I, springing from the chair in which I had 
 been seated, an awful fear clutching at my 
 heart. 
 
 "Why, she's gone, she and her mother." 
 
 "Gone! Where?" 
 
 "We do not know. It must have been 
 a week ago," said Bertha, "that I went 
 over to see her. She had stopped coming 
 here because one day she met Heinrich. 
 Well, when I got there I found the house 
 closed. The man who aids in the care of 
 the place saw me and told me Mrs. Wells 
 and her daughter were away on a journey. 
 He knew nothing of their destination, nor 
 how long they intended to be absent."
 
 246 
 
 "But Herborn!" I exclaimed, "can he 
 not conjecture whither they are bent? 
 Surely there are not many places where 
 they would be likely to go!" 
 
 "Herborn," said Farmer Demooth, "has 
 never returned from the battle of Oriskany," 
 
 I was horrified at this news. The awful 
 scene upon which I had stumbled in the 
 gray dawn rose before me, and I shuddered 
 at the recollection. 
 
 "You recall," pursued Miss Demooth, 
 "Mrs. Wells' reticence in regard to their 
 affairs. I have never heard her utter a 
 syllable that would lead me to think she 
 had ever had any communication with her 
 own or her first husband's family. This, 
 however, I do know. A brother of Mr. 
 Wells has recently moved to some town 
 within comparatively easy traveling dis 
 tance, for not many days ago I heard 
 Margaret speak of him and say they some 
 time hoped to see him. But where he has 
 settled I have not the vaguest idea," and 
 the sympathetic maiden, noticing my very 
 evident distress, shook her head sadly.
 
 THE SON OP A TORY 247 
 
 Hoping to gain some crumb of comfort, 
 I asked after my beloved's health, and was 
 relieved to hear that she was fast recover 
 ing her strength. This news gave me 
 considerable solace, and promising the 
 Demooths that I would drop in to see 
 them often I took my leave and bent my 
 steps toward home. 
 
 Cheered though I was in a measure by 
 the assurance of Margaret's returning health, 
 mine was a mournful home-coming. David, 
 good, faithful soul, had cared for everything 
 with the greatest diligence. He alone of 
 all the inhabitants of the vicinity had 
 realized that the current reports in regard 
 to my death were not true, for he well 
 knew that my father would never have 
 fled so suddenly, whatever his own danger, 
 had I been dead. My reappearance seemed 
 to cause him little surprise. 
 
 "I have been waiting and watching for 
 you, sir," he said, after our first greetings 
 were over, " you and your father." 
 
 "Father will never come again, David," 
 said I, "and I have returned after a fashion 
 that would grieve him sorely were he alive."
 
 248 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 He seemed not to notice my last words, 
 for he exclaimed, 
 
 "Ah, if we could only have kept your 
 father here, Mr. Wilton, perhaps he would 
 be spared to us now!" 
 
 "If we only might have, David! but you 
 know how impossible it was. It was as 
 much as ever that we restrained him as 
 long as we did." 
 
 Then I told him of my father's end while 
 the tears gathered in his eyes, and trickled 
 slowly down his furrowed cheeks. 
 
 "To lie so far from his own!" said he, 
 "the poor gentleman!" 
 
 "And his son come back a Whig!" cried 
 I. " What would he say?" 
 
 And David, though he loved the cause, 
 had nothing to reply. Presently I went in 
 and greeted Christina who wept over me ; 
 then I sat down in my father's chair and 
 gazed, vacant-eyed, into the empty fire 
 place.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 The Sending of Hon Yost Schuyler 
 
 HAD it not been for David's assidu 
 ous kindness during the next few 
 days I must have fallen into the 
 slough of despondency. He insisted upon 
 showing me minutely everything he had 
 done during my absence. The barns were 
 visited and the harvest surveyed. I was 
 taken into the fields, and consulted in 
 regard to what crops had best be planted 
 another year. The cattle were viewed and 
 commented upon one by one. Then David 
 seemed to have developed a keener interest 
 than he had ever before shown in public 
 affairs. He would ask me if I had been at 
 the Flatts during the morning or afternoon, 
 as the hour chanced, and wish to know if 
 there were any news from Fort Stanwix, 
 or if any word had come from the relief 
 expedition which was daily expected to 
 arrive from Albany. 
 
 249
 
 250 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 His efforts to keep me occupied and on 
 the move were so transparent that I was 
 amused by them, and allowed myself to be 
 led or lured this way and that with the docil 
 ity of a child. My trips to the Flatts and to 
 the fort really proved an agreeable diver 
 sion. Captain Borring always greeted me 
 jovially, and Colonel Weston made me feel 
 that I was welcome whenever I chose to come. 
 Thus nearly a week slipped away, and the 
 morning of August 20th dawned warm and 
 hazy. It may be surmised that during this 
 period the thought of Margaret was well- 
 nigh ever with me, but I had made up my 
 mind to accept the inevitable with patience, 
 encouraged that ere long my dream of love 
 would come true. Somewhere, I told my 
 self, she was safe, with the roses creeping 
 back into her cheeks. Then I pictured how 
 the old light of affection would leap into 
 her eyes again when she saw me, and knew 
 that it was indeed I returned to the ways 
 of men. In spite of past sorrows I had 
 times of thinking that the world was good. 
 
 The days, as I have said, glided by until
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 251 
 
 the 20th of August came. It was a 
 Wednesday, for I have a calendar of the 
 year before me. I had spent the early 
 hours of the morning over some long 
 neglected accounts, and over the rough 
 memoranda which David had kept during 
 my absence, and having reduced matters 
 to something approaching comprehension, 
 had strolled out to my seat beneath the 
 pines. The air seemed filled with a myriad 
 dancing golden motes; the hills beyond the 
 valley were blurred by a faint amber veil ; 
 the locusts were practising in their sharp 
 staccato; and not a breath of any of the 
 great winds of heaven was astir. It was 
 an atmosphere conducive to visions, to 
 visions of a happier time when the wings 
 of peace should have spread over this fair 
 vale of the earth; of a time when I should 
 not dwell alone in the house which had 
 now become mine, but when another should 
 sit opposite me at the board, and by my 
 side at the hearth, and here with me be 
 neath the grateful shade of the patriarchal 
 pines.
 
 252 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 I was roused from my delightsome fore 
 cast by the approach of a soldier who came 
 swinging along the path across the great 
 meadow. As he drew near the house I 
 rose and went down to meet him. 
 
 "Mr. Aubrey, is it not?" asked he. 
 
 "Yes," I returned. "Have you any 
 message for me?" 
 
 "I have. General Arnold has arrived, 
 and has ordered a trial of Butler and his 
 associates. The court-martial will sit at 
 one o'clock, and Colonel Weston desires 
 that you should be present." 
 
 "Tell the Colonel that I will be on hand." 
 
 The man saluted, and started toward the 
 Flatts at the same rapid pace by which he 
 had come. I watched him lazily till his 
 form was no longer visible, and then went 
 in to bid Christina prepare me an early 
 dinner. In the action of the court-martial 
 I had no special interest, but I was curious 
 to see General Arnold about whom I had 
 heard much. Just at this time he was one 
 of the most popular leaders in the army, 
 his intrepidity and daring having a great 
 influence among the men.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 253 
 
 "When I entered the mess-room in the 
 officers' quarters, where the trial was to be 
 held, the General was not present, but he 
 came in shortly with Colonel Weston, 
 Colonel Willett and several other officers, 
 and I readily recognized him from descrip 
 tions I had heard of him. He wore the 
 uniform of his rank, which was then that 
 of a major-general, though he had cast 
 aside his waistcoat on account of the heat 
 which seemed to affect him much. Al 
 though not tall, he was what might be 
 called largely made, his features somewhat 
 heavy, his naturally dark skin several 
 shades darker than its wont through ex 
 posure. He was impetuous and brusque 
 in manner, and impressed me as one who 
 would be impatient at delay or interference, 
 and quick to resent an injury. 
 
 Colonel Willett caught sight of me, and 
 hastening forward shook my hand heartily, 
 expressing his regret that we had been 
 separated the night of our escape through 
 the enemy's lines. 
 
 Come with me," he said, "and I will in 
 troduce you to the General."
 
 254 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 I followed him and soon found myself in 
 Arnold's presence. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Aubrey," said he, when my 
 name was mentioned, "I have heard of you 
 both from Colonel Willett and Colonel 
 Weston. You should enlist, sir. The 
 cause needs such enterprising young men." 
 
 "I will think of it," said I. 
 
 "Good!" he returned. "You ought to 
 have a lieutenancy. If I had any influence 
 in official circles," he continued, somewhat 
 bitterly, "you should have one." 
 
 I thanked him for his kind intentions, 
 though I could not see how I merited the 
 suggested honor, and then found a seat to 
 await the action of the tribunal which was 
 now quickly organized. Arnold appointed 
 Colonel Willett Judge Advocate of the 
 courtrmartial, and though he himself put a 
 few searching questions to the prisoners and 
 witnesses, and remained an absorbed lis 
 tener to the entire proceedings he took no 
 active part in them. After the sentence 
 of death had been pronounced upon But 
 ler and the other most active Tories among
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 255 
 
 those captured, (a sentence which was not 
 carried into execution, and more the pity 
 in Butler's case ! ) I slipped out of the room 
 and strolled homeward deep in meditation. 
 General Arnold's words were already bear 
 ing fruit. Why should I not enlist? I 
 asked myself. A call for militia had that 
 very day been issued, as more men than 
 had been sent from Albany were needed 
 before an advance could with safety be 
 made to the relief of Fort Stanwix. A 
 better opportunity to serve the Continental 
 cause could not possibly be offered; in fact 
 the more I thought about it the more I was 
 convinced that duty summoned me. By 
 the time I reached home my mind was 
 fully made up that I would enroll my name 
 of the following morning, and I communi 
 cated my intention to David whom I met 
 on emerging from the great meadow. 
 
 In an instant the faithful servant was up 
 in arms. He assailed me with all sorts of 
 arguments to induce me to abandon my 
 intention. 
 
 "Let me go in your place, Mr. Wilton," 
 said he.
 
 256 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "It is not the old fellows they want, 
 David," said I, "but the young chaps who 
 have no wives at home. Why, General 
 Arnold himself advised me to enlist." 
 
 "Confound General Arnold!" cried he, 
 and his anxiety was so real, and at the 
 same time so comical, that I believe the 
 commander himself would have laughed 
 could he have heard himself abused. 
 
 David's tirades and pleadings, however, 
 had no effect upon me, and although I did 
 not say so to him I was quite as fixed in 
 my resolution as ever. It was exactly 
 what I needed to keep my mind occupied, 
 to take me out of myself, and prevent me 
 from brooding upon Margaret's absence. 
 Perhaps, I thought, by the time the cam 
 paign is over and the fort relieved Margaret 
 will have returned, then well, I will own 
 that under those circumstances the idea of 
 an army life had not the same attractions. 
 
 No further words concerning the matter 
 passed between David and myself that day, 
 and I was careful not to refer to it on the 
 following morning. It was evident that he
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 257 
 
 had constituted himself my guardian; he 
 seemed to think it was a duty which he 
 owed my father, and I did not wish to hurt 
 the kind fellow's feelings when I could 
 easily avoid it. About ten o'clock, David 
 having gone down into the corn field, I put 
 together a little bundle of necessaries, stole 
 along the meadow path, and was soon well 
 on my way to the Flatts. As I drew within 
 sight of the fort, I saw the soldier who had 
 brought me the summons from Colonel 
 Weston the previous day hastening toward 
 me. 
 
 "This meeting has saved me a trip to 
 your home," said he. 
 
 "Ah," said I, "then you were in search 
 of me?" 
 
 "Yes, you are wanted again." 
 
 "Indeed! I seem to be very much in 
 demand." 
 
 We chatted together as we walked to 
 ward the fort, and I found the chief topic 
 of interest that morning was a proclama 
 tion General Arnold had just issued as an 
 offset to that which had been widely dis-
 
 258 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 tributed through the valley by the emissar 
 ies of St. Leger and Sir John Johnson. 
 
 "Ecod, sir," cried the soldier, "but the 
 General has set forth Barry St. Leger and 
 his army in their proper light!" 
 
 And, in truth, when I came to see the 
 manifesto I found that there was no mincing 
 of terms. It was purposely couched in 
 much the same language as that employed 
 by the British leaders, and characterized 
 the invaders as "a banditti of robbers, mur 
 derers, and traitors." Pardon was offered 
 to all concerned provided that within ten 
 days they laid down their arms and swore 
 allegiance to the United States, but it was 
 stated that if they persisted in then* deter 
 mination to draw upon themselves the just 
 vengeance of heaven and the exasperated 
 country, they must expect no mercy from 
 either. 
 
 My conductor led me to the scene of 
 the court-martial of the day previous, 
 and when I entered the room a curious 
 scene was being enacted. Seated in the 
 straight-backed chair that had been occu-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 259 
 
 pied by Colonel Willett during the trial of 
 the Tories was General Arnold, his brow 
 stern and his lips set. The fort command 
 ant and several officers were grouped be 
 hind him; cowering upon a bench at one 
 side was an unkempt, shock-headed man in 
 middle life; guarded by two soldiers, one 
 of the condemned prisoners leaned with an 
 air of sullen indifference against the wall 
 opposite, while in the middle of the apart 
 ment stood a grotesquely-garbed woman 
 who was addressing the General in the 
 most impassioned language. About her 
 face her hair hung loosely, and ever and 
 anon she flung it back with a toss of her 
 head, or a wave of her hand. There was 
 that in her countenance which held the 
 attention, a certain magic in her eye, faded, 
 yet suddenly kindling into unexpected fire. 
 
 Her plea seemed to be almost at an end, 
 and there was no sign of mercy on Arnold's 
 face. 
 
 "My God, sir," she all at once burst out, 
 " have you no f eeling that you can see a 
 mother suffer as I am suffering? Is there
 
 260 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 no pity in you ? There is nothing that I 
 will not do if you will but have the awful 
 sentence unsaid." 
 
 "There is nothing you can do, woman," 
 said the General, but your son can save 
 himself if he will." 
 
 "How, sir, how?" cried the distraught 
 mother. " Let me hear what he must do. 
 I will be a surety that he will perform 
 whatever task you set him. I will put 
 myself into your custody until it is done." 
 
 "We wish no women for hostages," said 
 Arnold coldly. 
 
 The mother turned to the man seated 
 upon the bench. 
 
 "Will you not be surety for your brother, 
 Nicholas?" said she beseechingly. 
 
 The fellow hesitated, glanced at his 
 seemingly half-stupid brother as much as 
 to say that he was not worth the trouble 
 they were taking in his behalf, and finally 
 gruffly signified his assent. 
 
 "There, sir, you hear; he consents," the 
 mother exclaimed. " Now what service must 
 my son, who is your prisoner, perform?"
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 261 
 
 "Stand forth, Hon Yost Schuyler," said 
 the General, leaning forward in his chair, 
 "and listen well. You will leave this place 
 shortly after noon to-day, and proceed in 
 the direction of Fort Stanwix. As soon as 
 you arrive in that vicinity you will enter 
 the British lines and tell them, whether it 
 be Indians, Tories, or the British themselves 
 whom you see, that I am rapidly approach 
 ing with an overwhelming force to raise 
 the siege. In short, it is to be your duty 
 so to alarm our enemies in regard to our 
 numbers and to the proximity of our army 
 that they will retreat forthwith. In this 
 undertaking you shall have the assistance 
 of the Oneida chief, Singing Arrow, who is 
 known to you. Before you arrive at Fort 
 Stanwix he will separate from you, enter 
 the camp at a different point, and bear wit 
 ness to the truth of your tale. If you are 
 successful, upon your return both you and 
 your brother shall go free, but if you play 
 us false there is no power on earth that 
 will save your brother from the rope and 
 the gallows."
 
 262 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 During Arnold's speech the prisoner had 
 stood with eyes fixed upon the floor, his coun 
 tenance absolutely void of expression. When 
 the commander had done, however, he lifted 
 his gaze for an instant and said: 
 
 "I will undertake what you demand." 
 
 "He will succeed, sir, never fear," cried 
 his mother, with all a parent's confidence, 
 but most of those present showed plainly 
 upon their faces that they doubted the suc 
 cess of the ruse de guerre. 
 
 "It is at least worth trying, gentlemen," 
 said Arnold, in reply to the officers' un 
 spoken misgivings, Nicholas having been 
 taken into custody, and Hon Yost removed 
 from the room. 
 
 I now began to wonder why I had been 
 summoned, and if I were to have any part 
 in the acting of this drama, to the prologue 
 of which I had been a witness.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 How the Ruse de Guerre Succeeded 
 
 I 
 
 officers were beginning to 
 leave when Colonel Willet came 
 quickly toward where I was 
 seated. 
 
 "You see," I said, rising as he drew near, 
 "that I have given ear to the General's 
 admonition. I have come to enlist." 
 
 "You can do far more important service 
 outside the ranks than in them," said he, 
 "if you are willing to undertake what the 
 General has in mind." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Step this way, and he will tell you 
 himself." 
 
 I glanced toward Arnold, and remarked 
 that he was awaiting us. 
 
 "I am glad you are here, Mr. Aubrey," 
 he exclaimed cordially. "You must have 
 anticipated my messenger. I noticed you 
 when you entered the room." 
 
 263
 
 264 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "I was but a few hun 
 dred yards from the fort when I received 
 your summons. I was on my way to en 
 list, as I just told Colonel Willett." 
 
 The General was evidently pleased at 
 this announcement. 
 
 "In that case," said he, "I hope I can 
 prevail upon you to accept a somewhat 
 delicate and dangerous mission. You heard 
 my words to that seemingly thick-headed 
 Tory yonder? Mark you, the fellow is 
 keener witted than he appears to be! 
 Well, what I desire is this, a man who 
 will accompany Hon Yost Schuyler, see 
 that he enters the British encampment, 
 then, lying in wait till night if need be, 
 endeavor to get through the lines into the 
 fort and deliver a message to Colonel Gan- 
 sevoort. You know the ground, that is 
 why I have appealed to you before disclos 
 ing my wish to any other. You also know 
 the risks to be run. Will you make the 
 attempt?" 
 
 "I will," said I, without an instant's 
 hesitation, greatly flattered by the confi 
 dence he was imposing in me.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 265 
 
 "Good!" cried he, rubbing his hands 
 with satisfaction. "Excellent! Be pre 
 pared to start as soon as you have had your 
 dinner. I will give you your final instruc 
 tions just before you leave. The interven 
 ing time is at your disposal." 
 
 He left us in the best of humors, and 
 having received Colonel Willett's congratu 
 lations on my prompt agreement to under 
 take the perilous mission, and accepted an 
 invitation to dine at his table, I went out 
 with the intention of calling on the 
 Demooths. It was two days since I had 
 been at their house, and before starting 
 upon so hazardous an enterprise I wished 
 to make sure that by no chance a missive 
 from Margaret had been received by Bertha 
 Demooth. 
 
 So far as news was concerned I gained 
 no satisfaction from my call. Bidding the 
 Demooths adieu with the mystifying remark 
 that I would report to John that all was 
 well with them, I sauntered on toward 
 Margaret's home. Here so depressing a 
 quiet reigned that I was sorry I had visited
 
 266 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 the place, and hastened back to the fort 
 and the society of Captain Borring to keep 
 my spirits from drooping. This, of all 
 times, was the occasion for avoiding the 
 devil of low-heartedness. 
 
 Dinner over, I was summoned into the 
 presence of General Arnold. 
 
 "You are to tell Colonel Gansevoort," 
 said he, "that I shall move to his relief as 
 soon as my forces are swelled to a size 
 sufficient to warrant my doing so. This, I 
 have every reason to believe, will be in a 
 few days. Bid him not lose courage, for 
 if I discover from Indian spies, who are 
 constantly on the watch, that he is in imme 
 diate danger, I will hasten to his assistance 
 at once, venturesome as such a course would 
 be. A bold man knows when to be cau 
 tious, so I need not warn you, nor will I 
 venture to offer any suggestions in regard 
 to your plan of procedure. You can best 
 shape that for yourself. I have nothing 
 more to say, save to wish you every 
 success." 
 
 He gave me his hand, then I went out to
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 267 
 
 find my companions. They were awaiting 
 me by the fort gateway, and Colonel Wil- 
 let, Captain Borring and several others 
 were standing by to bid me God-speed. 
 
 It was a cool day for August. A gusty 
 wind out of the northwest was blowing 
 among the hills, ever and anon swooping 
 down into the valley to crisp the river 
 reaches and cause a deep murmur in the 
 forest. 
 
 To give color to the tale which he was 
 to tell in regard to his escape from the 
 hands of the Continentals, Hon Yost's 
 clothes had, in a number of places, been 
 perforated by bullets. He was little in 
 clined to talk at first, and as the Indian had 
 but small knowledge of English the early 
 hours of our journey were passed in silence, 
 save for an occasional interchange of com 
 ments in the Indian tongue between my 
 two companions. Toward mid-afternoon, 
 however, when I proposed that we should 
 pause for a smoke (there was no need for 
 especial haste, as the morning of the day 
 following was the time Hon Yost had been
 
 268 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 ordered to try his ruse), the Tory shed in a 
 measure his sullenness and taciturnity, and 
 surprised me by his shrewdness. Under a 
 most unprepossessing exterior (the man at 
 times having the air of one half-witted) was 
 hidden a vast deal of keen common sense. 
 As for his knowledge of the woods, of 
 beast and bird, of signs in the sky, it was 
 every whit as intimate as that of the Indian. 
 We lay that night in a sheltered hollow 
 below the road where the force of the wind, 
 which was still blowing, did not reach us. 
 We were now within ten miles of Fort 
 Stanwix, and as I had no knowledge how 
 close a watch the British might be keeping, 
 I counselled the greatest caution in our for 
 ward movements. Accordingly the next 
 morning, after we had passed the gruesome 
 battle-field of Oriskany, we struck down 
 into the bottom lands and followed more 
 closely the course of the river. By ten 
 o'clock we were within a mile of the fort. 
 Here Hon Yost and the Indian proposed 
 parting company, and as I had not indicated 
 to them just what my purpose was they
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 269 
 
 looked at me askance as much as to say 
 you can do what you please. There had 
 been all the time in their manner toward 
 me a touch of resentment, as though they 
 felt that I was with them to spy upon then- 
 movements, and I could see that they were 
 glad that the hour had come when they 
 thought they were to be rid of me. 
 
 Singing Arrow with a grunt and a nod 
 to the Tory, and the semblance of a grin 
 at me, took himself off into the thicket on 
 the right, while Hon Yost turned his back 
 upon me, and moved forward in the direc 
 tion we had been pursuing. Without com 
 ment I followed him. We had proceeded 
 perhaps two hundred yards in this fashion, 
 when suddenly he wheeled upon me. 
 
 "Hell's fire!" he broke out, "how long 
 am I to have you dogging my steps? If it 
 were n't for the old woman and that brother 
 o' mine back there at Fort Dayton I 'd 'ave 
 slit your pretty wizand for you long ago, 
 and, by God, if you don't sheer off on 
 another trail I'll do it anyhow." 
 
 I had no desire to exasperate the man,
 
 270 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 and as I descried a mound hard by where 
 grew a tall hemlock which I was aware 
 must command a wide sweep of country, I 
 replied without the least show of resent 
 ment, 
 
 "I'm very happy to oblige you. I cer 
 tainly have no wish to burden you with 
 my society." 
 
 This said, I sat down upon a fallen tree. 
 He was at loss how to take my cool way 
 of treating his outburst, growled out some 
 thing beneath his breath, eyed me for a 
 brief space doubtfully, and finally left me 
 to myself in the stillness of the open wood. 
 I watched him disappear, waited perhaps 
 ten minutes, and then sought the hemlock 
 which I hastened to climb. It was clear 
 enough that Hon Yost was bent upon seek 
 ing the encampment of the British, with 
 what purpose remained to be seen. 
 
 As I had fancied, my post of vantage, 
 while it did not afford a view of the 
 fort itself, gave me a chance to observe 
 much of the cleared land about it, and I 
 remained perched in the tree top until I
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 271 
 
 had marked the Tory cross one of the 
 meadow spaces far ahead, and noted that his 
 steps were still bent in the direction of the 
 carrying-place. As I descended to the 
 ground I heard the loud booming of guns, 
 a sound that very shortly increased in 
 volume so that I made up my mind a 
 general artillery engagement must be in 
 progress. I now resolved to put myself 
 into a position to carry out my own plan 
 when the right hour should arrive. What 
 I intended to do was simple. I had thought 
 it all out as I lay listening to the soughing 
 of the wind the night before. I would 
 cross the river, strike out in a slightly 
 north-easterly direction through the dense 
 forest on the opposite shore, emerge upon 
 the Mohawk (which here takes a wide bend) 
 above the British earthworks on one hand 
 and the Indian encampment on the other, 
 then, when night fell, float down with a log, 
 as I had done previously, land opposite the 
 sally-port, and through it gain entrance to 
 the fort. 
 
 I resolved to run no risk of being ob-
 
 272 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 served, and so instead of crossing the river 
 at a point near at hand, I retraced my steps 
 for half a mile, removed my clothes, tied 
 them to a pole, and without much difficulty 
 gained the other shore. While I was dry 
 ing myself in the sun I began to feel 
 drowsy, and knowing that the whole day 
 was before me I resolved to rest for a few 
 hours. Accordingly after I had dressed 
 and refreshed myself with the simple fare 
 with which I had been provided, I found a 
 dry spot in the long marsh grass, stretched 
 myself out, and was soon drifting across 
 the sea of dreams. It was mid-after-noon 
 when I wakened, and I made haste to bestir 
 myself. The course which I must pursue 
 to reach the desired point led me through 
 a low woodland where the sunlight never 
 penetrated. It was boggy under foot; 
 vines were festooned from bough to bough; 
 creepers covered the fallen logs and rioted 
 upon the frequent hummocks ; and there 
 were pools hidden by a viscid coating of 
 green lying in wait for the unwary. 
 It was the haunt of strange birds, of the
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 273 
 
 panther and the bear, and of many deadly 
 crawling things. 
 
 I was fortunate in having a compass in 
 my pocket so I had no fear of losing my 
 self in the waste. My progress, however, 
 was of necessity slow, and I calculated that 
 it would take me at least an hour and a 
 half to penetrate to the river. I was pick 
 ing my way with great care, testing the 
 ground at nearly every step with a long 
 staff I had cut before venturing to advance, 
 when on a sudden I was aware that there 
 was some one close at hand, so near indeed 
 that there was hardly tune for concealment. 
 I tried to force myself in among the branches 
 of a low cedar, but ere I had succeeded in 
 so doing the boughs parted, and the un 
 known and I stood face to face. 
 
 Amazement held me speechless. Emaci 
 ated and haggard-eyed, his clothes dripping 
 and mud-dabbled, his hair hanging in matted 
 elf-locks, in this deplorable condition 
 though he was, I recognized the man in 
 stantly. It was Heinrich Herborn. Instead 
 of being dead as was supposed, he had been
 
 274 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 taken prisoner at the battle of Oriskany (as 
 I learned presently), and had just escaped. 
 
 The light where we were standing was 
 dim, and as he gazed at me, half concealed 
 by the cedar branches, I saw a fit of shiver 
 ing seize him. It was as though he was in 
 the grip of an ague. 
 
 "In God's name," cried he, in a hollow 
 voice, "what man are you?" 
 
 "I am that one," said I, "whom you 
 would have for an enemy against his will." 
 
 "Impossible!" he ejaculated, "Wilton 
 Aubrey must have a brother, or a double!" 
 
 "He has neither to my knowledge," said 
 I, "and I am Wilton Aubrey." 
 
 " Not unless the age of miracles has 
 returned," he exclaimed, still but half con 
 vinced. "How can I believe you are he 
 when his drowning cries are yet ringing in 
 my ears!" 
 
 "My dear Herborn," said I, laughing, 
 " you never heard his drowning cries, for 
 while you were listening to what you sup 
 posed were those sounds he was lying con 
 cealed beneath the bank not a dozen feet 
 from where you were standing."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 275 
 
 He now came forward with extended 
 hand. 
 
 "Aubrey," said he, "I'm my own man 
 again!" 
 
 "The past is past," said I, "and I don't 
 harbor the slightest grudge for what 
 happened." 
 
 "Nor I," he returned, with a wan smile ; 
 "you gave me a pretty severe handling 
 that night in front of Bellinger's store, you 
 know." He staggered and would have 
 fallen had I not steadied him. 
 
 "Why, man," I cried, "what is it?" 
 
 "I'm exhausted," he answered weakly, 
 "I've had little to eat for days." 
 
 I pulled from my pocket the remainder 
 of my provender, and when he had eaten 
 this, and had taken a good pull from my 
 flask he declared that he was ready for 
 anything. 
 
 "There is no great haste," said I, "sup 
 pose we talk a bit before we go on." 
 
 "Agreed. I confess I'm vastly curious 
 to know what, in heaven's name, you are 
 doing in this infernal waste."
 
 276 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 "I shall be most delighted to tell you 
 after you have answered one question." 
 
 "You have but to put it to me." 
 
 At this I informed him of the sudden 
 departure of his mother and sister from the 
 Flatts, and told him that they had left no 
 clue in regard to their destination. 
 
 "Can you imagine where they have 
 gone?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes," he answered gloomily, realizing 
 that he was indirectly the cause of their 
 departure. " Without doubt it is to Albany, 
 for a brother of my step-father has very 
 recently settled there, coming from Raw- 
 don in the Carolinas." 
 
 My heart gave a great bound of joy at 
 this news. 
 
 "Will you go to Albany with me after [ 
 have accomplished my mission here?" I 
 said eagerly. "I think we can set every 
 thing to rights now." 
 
 "I will go with you gladly," he answered. 
 
 I then revealed to him what I had been 
 sent to, do, and related to him incidentally 
 some of my experiences since the memor-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 277 
 
 able night by the Slanting Waters. He in 
 his turn spoke of his capture and captivity, 
 and then went on to tell me of his escape. 
 
 "I had quite abandoned all hope of get 
 ting away," he said, "we were so closely 
 guarded, and had concluded that I was 
 fated to endure a long term of confinement 
 at Montreal or Quebec, unless in the mean- 
 tune the Indians became unruly and mas 
 sacred all the prisoners, when about an 
 hour ago there was a sudden commotion in 
 camp. Officers and men went rushing to 
 and fro, the Indians set up a great shouting 
 and hooting, in fact a general confusion 
 prevailed. Very soon it became evident 
 that a retreat had been ordered." 
 
 "A retreat! " I cried, in exultation, "then 
 General Arnold's ruse has succeeded!" 
 
 "I believe it has," said Heinrich. "Well, 
 in the hubbub our guard grew careless, and 
 as we were being marched from the spot 
 where we had been kept in bonds I managed 
 to slip out of the lines into the adjoin 
 ing underbrush. Once in the wood I ran 
 at the top of my speed toward the river.
 
 278 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 My absence was soon discovered and the 
 chase was hot, but I was fortunate enough 
 to escape the bullets sent after me, gained 
 this side of the stream, and behold, here I 
 am!" 
 
 " But there are two Indian encampments 
 on this bank!" I exclaimed. 
 
 "I saw no Indians." 
 
 "Then they must have withdrawn. 
 Come, let's hasten forward and see!" 
 
 Herborn caught some of my spirit, and 
 away we went at a reckless pace, leaping 
 from log to log, plunging through thickets, 
 tripping, panting, perspiring, until we 
 emerged in a little open space on the 
 river bank. Beyond the stream and the 
 marsh through which I had threaded my 
 way the evening I had vainly tried to gain 
 entrance to the fort, on the high ground 
 where the batteries of St. Leger were lo 
 cated, we could decry several soldiers 
 making frantic efforts to dismount a 
 cannon. 
 
 "It is true! " I cried, in glee, "they are 
 raising the siege! "
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 279 
 
 Along the bank of the river we pressed 
 to where the Indians had bivouaced, to find 
 only the smouldering remains of their 
 camp-fires. 
 
 " A canoe/' said I, " perhaps we can find 
 a canoe ! " 
 
 Presently a shout from Herborn told me 
 that he had succeeded. We sprang in and 
 my companion grasped the paddle. A few 
 strokes and we were in mid-stream. Before 
 we could land, outcries from Sir John John 
 son's intrenchmente informed us that we 
 had been seen. About the same time we 
 heard shouts of encouragement from the 
 fort, for I had been waving my handker 
 chief lustily. A number of shots were 
 fired, but none of the bullets came near 
 us. We leaped ashore, and, stooping low, 
 ran swiftly in the direction of the sally-port 
 where, in a few seconds, we were safe. 
 
 "The British are retreating!" cried I, 
 addressing the first officer whom we met. 
 
 "Retreating!" echoed he increduously. 
 
 "Yes, the Indians have already broken 
 camp yonder beyond the river."
 
 280 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 He rushed off to the ramparts, while I 
 hailed a private soldier and bade him con 
 duct me to Colonel Gansevoort. Although 
 the seeming success of the General's ruse 
 rendered my report unnecessary, I felt it 
 my duty to pay my respects to the com 
 mandant, and, moreover, had we not news 
 infinitely more welcome than that which I 
 had set out to convey? My interview with 
 Colonel Gansevoort off my mind there 
 would remain nothing of public import for 
 me to contemplate, and I should be left free 
 to dwell upon my visions of future bliss.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 7%e Quest for Margaret 
 
 An hour after our arrival, Colonel Ganse- 
 voort made bold to dispatch a small force 
 to ascertain, if possible, to what extent the 
 enemy had withdrawn. Musket and can 
 non alike had been for some time silent, 
 and upon the borders of the woods no 
 Indians had been seen, yet it might be that 
 St. Leger in turn was practicing a clever bit 
 of stratagem, and the commandant did not 
 deem it wise to take any chances of falling 
 into a trap. Very soon, however, the 
 scouts brought the information that the 
 entire British camp was deserted, and that 
 the foe, such was their haste, had left behind 
 them their tents, a large portion of their 
 provisions, their artillery, their ammunition, 
 and nearly their entire camp equipage. 
 
 An expedition was at once organized to 
 harass the rear of the retreating army, but 
 with such precipitation had St. Leger and 
 
 281
 
 282 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 his savage allies fled that only a few strag 
 glers were captured. A large quantity of 
 spoil, however, was taken, for the soldiers 
 in their panic had cast aside everything 
 that in the least encumbered their move 
 ments. 
 
 One of the prisoners was called before 
 Colonel Gansevoort, and from him we 
 learned in detail how the retreat had been 
 caused. 
 
 "You see, sir, it was like this," said the 
 fellow, who was a Canadian militia-man. 
 "About noon there came a man into the 
 Indian camp who told how he had just es 
 caped from imprisonment at the risk of his 
 life, indeed, his clothes were all shot full of 
 bullet holes for I saw them myself after 
 ward. He also related how he had traveled 
 at the top of his speed all night for the 
 purpose of warning us of the approach of 
 an overwhelming force of Continentals 
 under General Arnold. When questioned 
 in regard to the number of those approach 
 ing, he answered by pointing to the leaves 
 upon the trees. The chiefs, who were dis-
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 283 
 
 satisfied with the slowness of the siege, and 
 were still sore over their losses at the battle 
 that was fought two weeks and more since, 
 had just been holding a pow-wow, and were 
 greatly stirred up over the tidings. They 
 fell to discussing the matter, and while thus 
 engaged an Indian arrived confirming what 
 the white man, who turned out to be a 
 Mohawk Valley Tory, had stated. A rumor 
 of the Tory's report spread through the 
 camp, and came to the ears of St. Leger 
 and Sir John Johnson. It is said they 
 called a council of war at which they inter 
 rogated the bearer of the news, and while 
 this council was in progress there arose an 
 outcry somewhere in the camp, "they are 
 coming I they are coming / " I cannot 
 swear if this be true, but I know that orders 
 for retreat were suddenly given, and that 
 we poor fellows who were commanded to 
 cover the rear wished we were well out of 
 it, for believe me, sir, we had cause to fear 
 the savages who were supposed to be our 
 friends quite as much as we had the foe 
 that was reported to be hard upon us,"
 
 284 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Early in the evening Hon Yost himself 
 arrived at the fort, having accompanied the 
 discomforted British as far as the mouth of 
 Wood Creek and then deserted, but from 
 him we were able to extract little additional 
 information. The main fact, however, re 
 mained. General Arnold's ruse had suc 
 ceeded, one part of the carefully planned 
 scheme of the British ministry had been 
 foiled, and Burgoyne would look in vain 
 for aid from St. Leger, assistance upon 
 which he had counted so much. 
 
 My anxiety was now at an end, and it 
 was in the blithest mood that I set out for 
 the Flatts on the following morning in 
 company with Heinrich, John Demooth, 
 and a messenger whom Colonel Gansevoort 
 was dispatching to General Arnold. We 
 encountered the General toward the middle 
 of the afternoon, he having learned that 
 St. Leger had advanced his trenches to 
 within two hundred yards of the fort, and 
 having in consequence decided to push for 
 ward with what men were available and 
 risk an engagement rather than have the
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 285 
 
 fort fall without having made an effort for 
 its relief. Arnold was naturally rejoiced 
 at the news we brought him, and at once 
 ordered nine hundred men to hurry forward 
 by a forced march, in the hope of joining 
 with some of the garrison and giving active 
 pursuit to the fleeing British. Although 
 my endeavors to aid the cause had been of 
 no material assistance, the General was 
 good enough to compliment me highly, 
 and reverted to the lieutenancy he had 
 mentioned at our first meeting, saying he 
 should not forget my name when he made 
 his report to General Gates who had re 
 cently superceded General Schuyler in com 
 mand of the army of the north. Later 
 when the dark days came, and men on all 
 sides were execrating Arnold's name, as, 
 indeed, was no more than natural and just, 
 I could but feel the sincerest pity and re 
 gret that so brave and capable a soldier, 
 one who inspired such courage and confid 
 ence among the men, should have digged 
 for himself so deep a pit of ignominy and 
 shame.
 
 286 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Certainly the skies were beginning to 
 look fair for me once more, and I had good 
 cause to feel elated. Was I not soon to see 
 the one who had grown dearer and yet 
 more dear through the lengthening days of 
 our separation, and did I not behold open 
 ing before me, should I choose to follow it, 
 a career in the service of freedom and of 
 the land which I called my own ? 
 
 The evening was well advanced when we 
 reached the Flatts, three happy yet footsore 
 wayfarers. David made a great to-do over 
 my return, and forebore to upbraid me for 
 the manner in which I had left him, which, 
 when I considered his natural inclinations, 
 appeared to me remarkably considerate. I 
 had insisted that Heinrich accompany me 
 home, and we spent the day following our 
 return in taking a much needed rest, and 
 in making preparations for our Albany 
 journey. Not desiring to pain David a 
 second time, I confided to him for what 
 purpose we were going, and was both 
 amused and caused to feel a trifle foolish 
 by having him bestow his blessing upon me.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 287 
 
 Of our experiences upon the road there 
 is little to tell. We were occasionally 
 halted by some good patriot, anxious to 
 learn if we had any news in regard to the 
 success of Arnold's mission, and were de 
 layed a considerable time the second day 
 by the violent bluster of a storm which put 
 the highway in a most deplorable condition. 
 Not until toward noon of the third day, 
 after having crossed a most desolate and 
 sandy waste of upland, did we perceive 
 that we were approaching Albany. Now 
 the terror of Burgoyne's threatened inva 
 sion began to be apparent for we en 
 countered whole households bearing with 
 them, upon huge farm wagons, all their 
 possessions that it was possible to carry. 
 There were dogged, gaunt^eyed men driving 
 herds of cattle, dejected women riding 
 astride, children afoot or clinging behind 
 their parents, in short it was a spectacle 
 to stir both pity and indignation, pity for 
 the wretched folk forced to leave their 
 homes, and indignation against the unfeel 
 ing invaders.
 
 288 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 I foresaw that the town was likely to be 
 much crowded, and began to fear that we 
 might find difficulty in obtaining lodgings. 
 On applying, however, to Mr. Robert Lewis 
 who kept the chief inn, situated upon the 
 southeastern corner of State Street at its 
 junction with Pearl, we were much grati 
 fied to discover that he could favor us with 
 a little room high under the sharp gable of 
 the roof, and also, although his own stable 
 was full, that he could manage to see our 
 horses were well provided. 
 
 Having refreshed ourselves with a 
 draught of ale, for the morning had been 
 wearisome and the sand had irritated our 
 throats, we bore our belongings to our 
 diminutive apartment and fell to making 
 ourselves presentable. The clatter of dishes 
 rang through the long, low dining-room as 
 we entered, and with this noise rose the 
 hurly-burly of many men's voices, for, 
 save for the waiting-maids, there was not 
 a woman in the place. We were assigned 
 to a table where a somewhat thin-faced, yet 
 kindly-eyed man in clerical black, with a
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 289 
 
 great white choker, was just finishing his 
 meat, and as he sat directly opposite we 
 naturally fell into speech with him. His 
 manner of talk was most attractive, and 
 when he learned we were from the Flatts 
 he began plying us with eager questions, 
 news of St. Leger's flight having come for 
 ward by special messenger the day previ 
 ous. So familiar did he seem with all the 
 country in the neighborhood of my home, 
 and so keen an interest did he betray in 
 everything we had to relate, that when he 
 went from the room I turned to the officer 
 upon my right, who had taken a slight part 
 in our conversation, and inquired : 
 
 " Can you tell me who that gentleman 
 maybe?" 
 
 "It is said that he is Samuel Kirkland, 
 the missionary," was the reply, and then I 
 knew that I had been speaking with the 
 man who had worked such marvels among 
 the Indians, to whose influence more than 
 that of any other was due the fact that the 
 entire Six Nations had not gone upon the 
 war path at the bidding of the British.
 
 290 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 We picked up a great budget of gossip 
 before we quitted the table, for the whole 
 room hummed with it. We learned that 
 the islands at the mouth of the Mohawk 
 (Van Schaick's Island and Haval Island), 
 had been intrenched, that approaches to 
 the ford at Half Moon Point had been 
 fortified, and that the appointed meeting 
 of the first New York Legislature at Kings 
 ton on September 1st had moved the militia 
 to action, and they were beginning to 
 gather in a most gratifying way. 
 
 The stir at Lewis' Tavern was a repro 
 duction in little of the bustle in the streets of 
 the town, which was at this time the sixth or 
 seventh in size in the country. There was a 
 great hurrrying to and fro of soldiers on 
 their way to the front, of market-men and 
 peripatetic venders called forth by the un 
 usual crowd and making a loud to-do over 
 their wares; and, moreover, there was a 
 vast press of country folk, some from the 
 immediate vicinity who had come to trade, 
 but more from the fugitive class who had 
 all their time upon their hands, and were
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 291 
 
 wandering up and down from mere idle 
 curiosity. 
 
 It was into this human ebb and flow that 
 Heinrich and I adventured after standing 
 for a space among the guests of the inn 
 about the street doorway, and it was now 
 for the first time that I began to wonder 
 if, after all, our errand was going to prove 
 such an easy one. During our journey I 
 had comforted myself with the thought, 
 "once we are in Albany, the rest will be 
 but a trifling affair." Although Herborn 
 had stated at the outset that he was not 
 aware either in what part of the town 
 Philip Wells (Margaret's uncle) had taken 
 up his abode, or upon what business ven 
 ture he had embarked, it had not occurred 
 to me but that it would be a comparatively 
 easy thing to get trace of him. Now our 
 quest assumed a decidedly different aspect. 
 I had not counted upon this great influx of 
 strangers, and realized that if our inquiries 
 at some of the principal shops and at the 
 place for the delivery of the mails should 
 turn out to be of no avail, we should be 
 straightway cast into a maze of difficulties.
 
 292 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 Our landlord, whom I was at the outset 
 careful to question, could give me no in 
 formation. There had been many new 
 comers of late, he remarked. 
 
 I communicated none of my misgivings 
 to Heinrich, however, seeing that he was 
 lost in wonder and admiration at the sights, 
 he having never before journeyed further 
 than Johnstown. 
 
 "It will be time enough to counsel with 
 him," I said to myself, "should our in 
 quiries come to naught." 
 
 I took upon myself the part of acting as 
 spokesman, and having ascertained where 
 the mails were given forth, we made our 
 way thither, but small satisfaction did we 
 get. 
 
 Yes, the man in charge could recall that 
 occasional letters had come for a Mr. Philip 
 Wells during the past month, but he had 
 no notion where the gentleman lived, 
 whether in the town, in its outskirts, or 
 haply somewhere in the surrounding 
 country. 
 
 Here was an entirely new suggestion
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 293 
 
 that added to my gathering perplexities. 
 The outskirts of the town ! the surrounding 
 country! Forsooth, our search was going 
 to be no holiday sport, if these outlying 
 districts were perforce to be added to the 
 area we must cover. Our afternoon proved 
 to be both vexatious and wearisome, and, 
 moreover, productive of no results. To 
 all sorts of merchants we went, meeting 
 now with courteous and now with gruff 
 responses, but never gaining the clue we 
 sought. Some had heard the name, some 
 fancied they had dealings with the person 
 we were inquiring for, but no one knew 
 where he was to be found, nor could any 
 one give a satisfactory description of his 
 appearance. 
 
 "Come," I said to Heinrich, "we will go 
 to the river and rest for a while, and see if 
 we can decide what had best be done." 
 
 To this proposal he readily assented, say 
 ing he did not know what had got into his 
 legs they felt so uncommonly weary. 
 
 "'Tisthe streets of the town, man," I 
 remarked, with a laugh. "This plodding
 
 294 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 up and down over hard pavements little 
 agrees with one accustomed to the spring 
 of the turf on the side of a country 
 highway." 
 
 There was considerable activity about 
 the quays, the loading of sloops with stores 
 for the army being in progress. We found 
 a comparatively quiet spot and, having 
 perched upon a huge bale containing I 
 know not what, scanned for some time in 
 silence the placid reaches of the river that 
 shimmered with the deepening gold of late 
 afternoon. 
 
 "I confess," said Heinrich at length, 
 "this is not exactly what I looked forward 
 to. It seemed to me when you proposed 
 the thing, and whenever I have since 
 thought of it, that it would be the very 
 easiest matter imaginable to find my mother 
 and sister. I now realize that I judged 
 Albany by the Platts and by the settlements 
 up the valley, but you who have been more 
 in the world, I should think you would 
 have forseen the difficulties we were likely 
 to encounter."
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 295 
 
 "Doubtless," I returned, "I overlooked 
 them, or gave them little heed, in the joy 
 of discovering whither your sister and 
 mother had gone. When we stepped into 
 the streets this afternoon I knew we had 
 been over-confident." 
 
 "Well, we can make a house to house 
 inquiry," this dubiously, with a tired glance 
 at the expanse over which the town 
 stretched. 
 
 "Yes," I assented, with scarcely less 
 enthusiasm than he had shown, "but I 
 have about come to the conclusion that it 
 is in the outskirts, or in the immediately 
 adjoining country, we must search." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "I can hardly say. It is simply an im 
 pression that has been growing on me. 
 Assuredly some of the tradesmen we have 
 questioned would be able to tell us more if 
 Mr. Wells has been a resident of Albany 
 a month and longer." 
 
 "Not if he has run no bills, as is quite 
 possible. Why should they even know his 
 name?"
 
 296 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 This putting of the case was reasonable, 
 and I had no reply to make. 
 
 "There is no newspaper now published 
 here, so we cannot advertise," said I, "but 
 there is certainly a town-crier. We might 
 have recourse to him." 
 
 "Well, suppose we do on the morrow," 
 answered Heinrich. 
 
 Having come to this agreement, we 
 lapsed into a silent contemplation of the 
 shipping and the river, and presently made 
 our way slowly back to the inn.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 The Gardineer Place 
 
 I cannot say what prompted me, but I 
 arrayed myself with special care that even 
 ing. Perhaps it was the vain hope that I 
 might encounter Margaret among the 
 promenaders whom I knew would be likely 
 to gather in State Street when the sun had 
 dipped low. I donned my fine velure silk 
 waistcoat which my dear mother had once 
 presented to me at Christmastide, my best 
 knee and shoe buckles, and a cravat which 
 I had not worn since the days when Hamil 
 ton and I used to disport ourselves upon 
 the Battery at the sunset flush when May 
 was in the air. Heinrich flung much banter 
 at me, but I smiled at him good-humoredly, 
 for with the putting on of my gay attire 
 somehow I sloughed the discouraging ex 
 periences of the afternoon, and regained, 
 at least in part, my former buoyancy. 
 
 "We had supped well, and were sitting 
 where we could watch the incoming and 
 
 297
 
 298 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 outgoing frequenters of the tavern when 
 we marked our host making his way 
 toward us. 
 
 "A fair evening to you, sirs," he said, as 
 he approached. " Did you tell me that the 
 gentleman of whom you were hi search 
 had come hither from the South?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," I cried excitedly, believing 
 that at last we were about to hear some 
 thing that would put us on the right track. 
 
 "I ask," said the landlord, "because a 
 new-comer to town has just been here who 
 occasionally drops in for a draught of my 
 port. I do not know what his name is, but 
 I recall having heard him say that he had 
 lived in the Carolinas, and had removed to 
 the North to escape Tory persecution." 
 
 " I believe it is the man!" I exclaimed, 
 "Where is he now?" 
 
 "He came on horseback, and has just 
 ridden away, If I mistake not, it is he 
 who has purchased the Gardineer place 
 which is beyond General Schuyler's on the 
 extension of Pearl Street." 
 
 "He has just ridden away, you say?"
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 299 
 
 "Yes, but he must be still in sight. Per 
 haps I can point him out to you." 
 
 We accompanied Mr. Lewis to the door, 
 and then to the street corner. 
 
 "Yonder he is!" said the landlord, with 
 a wave of his hand toward a rapidly disap 
 pearing figure. "If you think there is any 
 likelihood that he is the man you are seek 
 ing, you have but to follow this road into 
 the country until you come to a house upon 
 your right set well back amid a group of 
 maples. That is the Gardineer place, and 
 there I think you will find him." 
 
 "Come!" I cried to Herborn, whose 
 weariness of the afternoon was now sud 
 denly forgotten, and who kept pace uncom 
 plainingly with my rapid stride. 
 
 The clock in the English church in State 
 Street was just striking seven, and there 
 was still half an hour before twilight would 
 begin to deepen. For the gay dames in 
 their calashes and buffonts hasting towards 
 State Street to display their finery I had 
 never an eye. Not for an instant did I 
 suffer my. glance to rove from the rider
 
 300 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 swinging on ahead. Doubtless the good 
 burghers and their families who were en 
 joying the coolness of eve, seated upon 
 either side of their doorways, as is their 
 custom, marvelled to see such indifference 
 and such unwonted haste. Something 
 within me cried out that at last we had hit 
 upon the true trail, and I seemed to feel 
 myself transfigured. A waft of the old 
 sensation comes back to me as I write, and 
 my blood sings the song of love and youth. 
 What mattered the long parting, the yearn 
 ing, the fears, the heart-ache? Every sad 
 emotion was shed as a cast-off garment, 
 and joy was my sole raiment. 
 
 The horseman finally grew to be a faint 
 figure, occasionally glimpsed and then hid 
 den from the sight. We had sometime 
 since left behind the houses of the town 
 and also a mansion of considerable stateli- 
 ness, which I fancied must be General 
 Schuyler's, and presently the rider was 
 wholly lost to view. Up to this point 
 Heinrich and I had exchanged no word. 
 Now we slackened our steps simultaneously,
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 301 
 
 for it was clear that we were drawing near 
 whatthe inn-keeperhad called the Gardineer 
 place. 
 
 "How shall we manage it?" said Hein- 
 rich. "I don't wish to take the lead, for I 
 might chance to encounter Margaret, and 
 I should prefer not to have her see me 
 until she knows you are alive. Yet the 
 sudden sight of you might seriously shock 
 her" 
 
 "I'll take the risk," said I, interrupting 
 him. "You know 'tis regarded as a com 
 mon truth that joy does not kill, and, after 
 all, there is but small probability that she 
 will be the first person I shall meet." 
 
 So it was settled that I was to go for 
 ward in advance, and that Heinrich was to 
 follow, after giving me an opportunity to 
 make myself known. It will be noticed 
 that both of us assumed we had found the 
 dwelling-place of Philip Wells. 
 
 We soon reached the entrance gate, and, 
 leaving Heinrich, I stepped briskly along 
 the drive. Behind the trees in the rear of, 
 and surrounding, the substantial brick man-
 
 302 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 sion lingered the embers of a glowing sun 
 set, but the invading shadows were creeping 
 up from beyond the river, and in the caress 
 ing breeze there was a soft presage of 
 night. 
 
 As I neared the house I caught the mur 
 mur of voices, so I chose the sward for a 
 path, and thus was able to approach silent- 
 footed. Several shrubs obscured the porch 
 and the main doorway, and, swiftly gaining 
 the shelter of a syringa clump, I peered 
 out. Not many yards distant three women 
 were seated, two upon a rustic seat, the 
 third half reclining upon some cushions cast 
 on the grass and the third was Margaret! 
 
 I caught my breath at the sight of her 
 all clad in white, with a bit of black velvet 
 at her throat and a flower upon her breast; 
 then I shut my eyes, to open them again 
 in an instant, half fearing that the vision 
 should prove a dream. Although I had in 
 all surety expected to find her, I had not 
 anticipated coming upon her in just this 
 way. The suddenness of it gave me a 
 thrill that was surpassingly sweet.
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 303 
 
 While I stood transfixed, my gaze riveted 
 upon my beloved's face, one of the elder 
 women rose, taking my attention for a 
 moment. "She must be Mrs. Philip 
 Wells," I said to myself, for her companion 
 was Margaret's mother. 
 
 "I think we had best be going within," 
 she remarked, "the evening grows damp." 
 
 "Oh, must we yet?" exclaimed Margaret. 
 " It is so lovely here ! ' ' 
 
 You can stay for a little, if you like, 
 dear," said her mother, who had risen, 
 "but I think with your aunt that she and 
 I had better seek the shelter of the house." 
 
 They moved toward the steps, and soon 
 disappeared in the dusk of the hallway. 
 
 "Surely," mused I, "if there is such a 
 thing as the intervention of fate, here is 
 a rare example of its workings," for on the 
 instant that Margaret's mother and aunt 
 quitted the scene I had made up my mind 
 what I would do. 
 
 There was a whistling wood-thrush note, 
 uttered at the edge of eve, which Margaret 
 and I had several times practised together
 
 304 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 when we had strolled down a laneway in 
 the rear of the Demooth's as far as the 
 forest's verge. Of this I determined to 
 make use. Would not my beloved think 
 it strange to hear it so near at hand, and 
 so close to a habitation? Would not the 
 sound of it kindle recollection, and stir in 
 her brain the thought that perhaps by some 
 unaccountable magic it came from human 
 lips, from my lips? 
 
 Softly at first, then more sharply and 
 clearly I gave the whistling call. Even as 
 I hoped, she started, shuddered a little, and 
 put her hand to her heart. Again I tried 
 the note, and she was upon her feet, her 
 eyes straining toward the bush behind 
 which I was hidden, her slender figure 
 tense, as though at the next instant she 
 would spring toward me. Once more the 
 call, imperfect indeed, and yet perfect, for 
 it wrought my desire. 
 
 "Wilton! Wilton!" she cried, and ah! 
 the wedded joy and doubt and wonder in 
 that cry! 
 
 I stepped into full view and held out my
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 305 
 
 arms. Did she hesitate? Did it come into 
 her mind that I was some fateful apparition 
 risen to harrow her? Not so, and I have 
 since told her that it was all due to the 
 pink of my velure waistcoat, which must 
 have been visible and given her assurance, 
 for no one could imagine such a crowning 
 absurdity as a ghost in pink velure. It 
 was the veriest fraction of time before I 
 had her in my embrace, before our lips 
 met, before she was laughing and crying 
 over me, and looking me up and down as 
 though to make quite sure in my supposed 
 excursion to the country of departed souls 
 I had not left behind a leg or an arm. 
 
 Two startled women now appeared upon 
 the porch of the house, while a rotund lit 
 tle man in a buff coat and a disarranged 
 peruke pushed by them and began to de 
 scend the steps. 
 
 "It's Wilton, it's Wilton, come back to 
 life!" cried Margaret, seizing me by the 
 arm and dragging me forward. And then 
 there arose such a chorus of cries, such a 
 series of exclamations as I had never be-
 
 306 THE SON OF A TORY 
 
 fore heard, and hope never again to be 
 forced to listen to. Upon me was poured 
 a tumbling torrent of questions, and it was 
 the greatest relief when I caught sight of 
 Heinrich standing not far away, and drew 
 attention from myself by pointing him out 
 to Margaret. The sweet girl Tan toward 
 him with both hands outstretched. 
 
 "It has all been a bad dream, brother," 
 she said, "but now it is morning again," 
 and she kissed him fondly. 
 
 Then we went merrily into the house, 
 Margaret clinging to me, lest I should 
 somehow be spirited from her sight. When 
 my story had been told, Mr. Wells left us 
 for a space to reappear presently with a 
 brimming bowl, having mixed his choicest 
 posset. Our glasses were filled, and I 
 arose, waiting for the host to speak. 
 
 "A toast!" he cried, beaming upon us 
 all, "the health and happiness of a dear 
 maiden whom I need not name!" 
 
 And with a full heart I pledged her in 
 whose eyes I saw shining a radiant light
 
 THE SON OF A TORY 307 
 
 which, since that hour, has never failed to 
 be to me an inspiration, a solace, and a 
 guide. 
 
 THE END
 
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