m
" I SAT DOWN HEAVILY IN HOMESICK SOLITUDE"
<i)e J&fctorical Romance* of Robert Wi.
THE
MAID-AT-ARMS
McKINLAY, STONE & MACKENZIE
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1901, by ROMT W. CMAMHU.
FHINTtD IN TM OMITCO STATES OF AMKNICA
PREFACE
A FTER a hundred years the history of a great waf
r\ waged by a successful nation is commonly reviewed
by that nation with retrospective complacency.
Distance dims the panorama; haze obscures the
ragged gaps in the pageant until the long lines of vic-
torious armies move smoothly across the horizon, with
never an abyss to check their triumph.
Yet there is one people who cannot view the past
through a mirage. The marks of the birth-pangs re-
main on the land ; its struggle for breath was too ter-
rible, its scars too deep to hide or cover.
For us, the pages of the past turn all undimmed;
battles, brutally etched, stand clear as our own hills
against the sky for in this land we have no haze to
soften truth.
Treading the austere corridor of our Pantheon, we,
too, come at last to victory but what a victory ! Not
the familiar, gracious goddess, wide-winged, crowned,
bearing wreaths, but a naked, desperate creature, gaunt,
dauntless, turning her iron face to the west.
The trampling centuries can raise for us no golden
dust to cloak the flanks of the starved ranks that press
across our horizon.
Our ragged armies muster in a pitiless glare of light,
every man distinct, every battle in detail.
Pangs that they suffered we suffer.
The faint-hearted who failed are judged by us as
though they failed before the nation yesterday; the
v
12822
PREFACE
brave are re-enshrined as we read ; the traitor, to us,
is no grotesque Guy Fawkes, but a living Judas of to-
day.
\\V remember that Ethan Allen thundered on the
portal of all earthly kings at Ticonderoga; hut \ve
also remember that his hatred for the great state
of New York brought him and his men of Vermont
perilously close to the mire which defiled Charles Lee
and Con way, and which engulfed poor Benedict
Arnold.
\\ r follow Gates 's army with painful sympathy to
Saratoga, and there we applaud a victory, but we turn
from the commander in contempt, his brutal, sell
shallow nature all revealed.
We know him. We know them all Ledyard, who
died stainless, with his own sword murdered; Herki-
mer, who died because he was not brave enough to
do his duty and be called a coward for doing it; Wool*
sey, the craven Major at the Middle Fort, stammering
filthy speeches in his terror when Sir John Johnson's
rangers closed in; Poor, who threw his ',fe away for
vanity when that life belonged to the land ! Yes, we
know them all great, greater, and less great our
grandfather Franklin, who trotted through a perfectly
cold and selfishly contemptuous French court, aged,
alert, cheerful to the end ; Schuyler, calm and imper-
turbable, watching the North, which w.; ist, and
utterly unmindful of self or of the pack yelping at his
heels; Stark, Morgan, Murphy, and Elerson, the brave
riflemen; Spencer, the interpreter; Visscher, ilelmer,
and the Stor.
Into our horizon, too, move terrible shapes not
shadowy or lurid, but living, breathing figures, who
turn their eyes on us and hold out their butcher
hands: Walter Butler, with his awful smile; Sir John
Johnson, heavy and pallid pallid, perhaps, with the
. i
PREFACE
memory of his broken parole; Barry St. Leger, the
drunken dealer in scalps; Guy Johnson, organizer
of wholesale murder; Brant, called Thayendanegea,
brave, terrible, faithful, but a Mohawk; and that
frightful she -devil, Catrine Montour, in whose hot
veins seethed savage blood and the blood of a govern-
or of Canada, who smote us, hip and thigh, until the
brawling brooks of Tryon ran blood !
No, there is no illusion for us; no splendid armies,
banner - laden, passing through unbroken triumphs
across the sunset's glory; no winged victory, with
smooth brow laurelled to teach us to forget the holo-
caust Neither can \ve veil our history, nor soften
our legends. Romance alone can justify a theme in-
spired by truth ; for Romance is more vital than his-
tory, which, after all, is but the fleshless skeleton of
Romance.
R W. C
BROADALBIN,
May 26, 1902.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER f>*OB
I. THE ROAD TO VARICKS* , , i
II. IN THE HALLWAY 13
III. COUSINS 23
IV. SIR LUPUS 45
V. A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S 67
VI. DAWN 89
VII. AFTERMATH . . 101
VIII. RIDING THE BOUNDS 117
IX. HIDDEN FIRE 129
X. Two LESSONS 145
XI. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 160
XII. THE GHOST-RING 178
XIII. THE MAID-AT-ARMS 190
XIV. ON DUTY 205
XV. THE FALSE-FACES 231
XVI. ON SCOUT 244
XVII. THE FLAG 252
XVIII. ORISKANY 264
XIX. THE HOME TRAIL 284
XX. COCK-CROW 33
XXI. THE CRISIS 318
XXII. THE END OF THE BEGINNING .. ... 332
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
i
THE ROAD TO VARICKS'
WE drew bridle at the cross-roads; he stretched
his legs in his stirrups, raised his arms, yawned,
and dropped his huge hands upon either thigh with a
resounding slap.
"Well, good-bye/' he said, gravely, but made no
movement to leave me.
" Do we part here?" I asked, sorry to quit my chance
acquaintance of the Johnstown highway.
He nodded, yawned again, and removed his round
cap of silver-fox fur to scratch his curly head.
" We certainly do part at these cross-roads, if you are
bound for Varicks'," he said.
I waited a moment, then thanked him for the pleas-
ant entertainment his company had afforded me, and
wished him a safe journey.
" A safe journey?" he repeated, carelessly. " Oh yes,
of course; safe journeys are rare enough in these
parts. I'm obliged to you for the thought. You are
very civil, sir. Good-bye."
Yet neither he nor I gathered bridle to wheel our
horses, but sat there in mid-road, looking at each other.
"My name is Mount/' he said at length; "let me
I
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
guess yours. \o, sir! don't tell me. Give me three
spoi hunting-knife against the
wheat straw you are chewing!"
"With pleasure," I said, amused, "but you could
scarcely guess it. '
Your name is Varick?"
I shook my head.
"Butk
"No. Look sharp to your knife, friend."
"Oh, then I have guessed it. he said, coolly; "your
name is Ormond and I'm glad of it
"Why are you glad of it?" I asked, curiously, won-
i, too, at his knowledge of me, a stranger.
"You will answer that question for yourself when
you meet your kin, the Varicks and Butlers," he said;
and the reply had an insolent ring that did not please
me, yet I was loath to quarrel with this boyish giant
whose amiable company I had found agreeable on
my long journey through a land so new to me.
"My friend," I said, "you are blur
ly in spt lu- rephe<l, lazily swinging one
huge leg over the pommel of his saddle. Sitting at
ease sunshine, he opened his fringed hunting-
shirt to the breeze blowing.
"So you go to the Varicks?" he mused aloud, eyes
slowly closing in the sunshine like the brilliant eyes of
a basking lynx.
" Do you know the lord of the manor?" I asked
10? The patron
' I mean Sir Lupus Vai
"Yes; I know him I know Sir Lupus. Wecall him
the patroon, though he's not of the same litter as the
Livingstons, the Cosbys, the Phillipses, Y,m i
aers, and those feudal gentleni juggle with the
high justice, the middle, and the low and who will
juggle no more."
2
THE ROAD TO VARICKS'
" Am I mistaken/' said I, " in taking you for a Boston
man?"
"In one sense you are," he said, opening his eyes.
"I was born in Vermont/'
"Then you are a rebel?"
"Lord!" he said, laughing, "how you twist our
English tongue 1 Tis his Majesty across the waters
who rebels at our home-made Congress."
"Is it not dangerous to confess such things to a
stranger?" I asked, smiling.
His bright eyes reassured me. " Not to all strangers,"
he drawled, swinging his free foot over his horse's neck
and settling his bulk on the saddle. One big hand foil,
as by accident, over the pan of his long rifle. Watch-
ing, without seeming to, I saw his forefinger touch the
priming, stealthily, and find it dry.
" You are no King's man," he said, calmly.
"Oh, do you take me for a rebel, too?" I de-
manded.
"No, sir; you are lu'itlur the one nor the other
like a tadpole with legs, neither frog nor pollywog.
But you will be."
"Which?" I asked, laughing.
"My wisdom cannot draw that veil for you, sir," he
said. " You may take your chameleon color from your
friends the Varicks and remain gray, or from the But-
lers and turn red, or from the Schuylers and turn blue
and buff."
" You credit me with little strength of character," I
said.
"I credu you with some twenty -odd years and no
experience."
" With nothing more?"
" Yes, sir ; with sincerity and a Spanish rifle which
you may have need of ere this month of May has
melted into June."
3
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
guess yours. No, sir! don't tell me. Give me three
spo: hunting-knife against the
wheat straw you are chewing!"
"With pleasure," I said, amused, "but you could
scarcely guess it. '
Your name is Varick?"
1 .-hook my head.
"Hut;
"No. Look sharp to your knife, friend."
"Oh, then I have guessed it," he said, coolly; "your
name is Onnond and I'm glad of
" Why are you glad of it?" I asked, curiously, won-
dering, too, at his knowledge of me, a stranger.
"You will answer that question for yourself when
you meet your kin, the Varicks and Butlers," he said;
and the reply had an insolent ring that did not please
me, yet I was loath to quarrel with this boyish giant
whose amiable company I had found agreeable on
my long journey through a land so new to me.
"My friend," I said, "you are blui
ly in speech, sir, lu n/plu-d, lazily swinging one
huge leg over the pommel of his saddle. Sitting at
ease in the simMum, lie opened his fringed hunting-
shirt to the breeze blowing.
" So you go to the Varicks?" he mused aloud, eyes
slowly closing in the sunshine like the brilliant eyes of
a basking lynx.
" Do you know the lord of the manor?" I asked
10? Thepatro<>
" I mean Sir Lupus Vai
"Yes; I know him I know Sir Lupus. Wecall him
the patroon, though he's not of the same litter as the
Livingstons, the Cosbys, the Phillipses, Van Re-nssel-
aers, and those feudal gentlemen who juggle with the
li justice, the middle, and the low and who will
juggle no more."
2
THE ROAD TO VARICKS'
" Am I mistaken/' said I, " in taking you for a Boston
man?"
"In one sense you are/' he said, opening his eyes,
"I was born in Vermont."
"Then you are a rebel?"
"Lord!" he said, laughing, "how you twist our
English tongue! Tis his Majesty across the waters
who rebels at our home-made Congress."
"Is it not dangerous to confess such things to a
stranger?" I asked, smiling.
His bright eyes reassured me. " Not to all strangers/'
he drawled, swinging his free foot over his horse's neck
and settling his bulk on the saddle. One big hand fell,
as by accident, over the pan of his long rifle. Watch-
ing, without seeming to, I saw his forefinger touch the
priming, stealthily, and find it dry.
"You are no King's man," he said, calmly.
"Oh, do you take me for a rebel, too?" I de-
manded.
"No, sir; you are neither the one nor the other
like a tadpole with legs, neither frog nor pollywog.
But you will be."
"Which?" I asked, laughing.
"My wisdom cannot draw that veil for you, sir/' he
said. " You may take your chameleon color from your
friends the Varicks and remain gray, or from the But-
lers and turn red, or from the Schuylers and turn blue
and buff."
"You credit me with little strength of character/' I
said.
"I credu you with some twenty -odd years and no
experience."
" With nothing more?"
"Yes, sir; with sincerity and a Spanish rifle which
you may have need of ere this month of May has
melted into June."
3
THE MAID-AT-AR.MS
scatters its seeds with a faint report when the pods
are touched? There is in this land a red bud which
has burst thundering into crimson bloom, scattering
seeds o' death to the eight winds. And every seed breeds
a battle, and every root drinks blood!"
He straightened in his stirrups, blue eyes ablaze,
face burning under its heavy mask of tan and dust
iow a man when 1 see him, I know you, he
said, "(iod save our country, friend, upon this sweet
May day."
I replied, tingling. "And God save
the King the \\l\n\c pea
Ideated, with a disagreeable laugh, "God
save the King; he is past all human aid now, and
headed straight to hell. Friend, let us part ere we
quarrel. You will be with me or against ; day
week. 1 knew it was a man I addressed, and no tavern-
post' 1
" Yet this brawl with Boston is no affair oi
I said, troubled. "Who touches the ancient liber
of Kimlishmen touches my country, that is all I
liich country, m
reater I.
"And when Greater Britain divides?"
" It must not!"
"It has."
I unbound the scarlet handkerchief which I wore for
a cap, and held it between my fingers to dry its sweat
in the breeze. Watching it flutter, I said :
" Friend, in my country we never cross the branch
till we come to it, nor leave the hammock till the river-
sands are beneath our feet. No hunting-shirt is sewed
till the bullet has done its errand, nor do men fish for
gray mullet with a hook and line. There is always
time to pray for wisdom/'
6
THE ROAD TO VARICKS
"Friend/' replied Mount, "I wear red quills on my
moccasins, you wear bits of sea -shell. That is all
the difference between us. Good-bye. Varick Manor
is the first house four miles ahead/'
He wheeled his horse, then, as at a second thought,
checked him and looked back at me.
"You will see queer folk yonder at the patroon's,"
he said. " You are accustomed to the manners of your
peers; you were bred in that land where hospitality,
courtesy, and deference are shown to equals; where
dignity and graciousness are expected from the elders;
where duty and humility are inbred in the young. So
is it with us except where you are going. The great
patroon families, with their vast estates, their patents,
their feudal systems, have stood supreme here for
years. Theirs is the power of Ijfe and death over their
retainers; they reign absolute in their manors, they
account only to God for their trusts. And they are
great folk, sir, even yet these Livingstons, these Van
Rensselaers, these Phillipses, lords of their manors
still; Dutch of descent, polished, courtly, proud, bear-
ing the title of patroon as a noble bears his coronet."
He raised his hand, smiling. " It is not so with the
Varicks. They are patroons, too, yet kin to the John-
sons, of Johnson Hall and Guy Park, and kin to the
Ormond-Butlers. But they are different from either
Johnson or Butler vastly different from the Schuylers
or the Livingstons "
He shrugged his broad shoulders and dropped his
hand : " The Varicks are all mad, sir. Good-bye."
He struck his horse with his soft leather heels; the
animal bounded out into the western road, and his
rider swung around once more towards me with a gest-
ure partly friendly, partly, perhaps, in menace. " Tell
Sir Lupus to go to the devil!" he cried, gayly, and
cantered away through the golden dust.
7
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
I sat my horse to watch him; presently, far a\vay
on the hill's crest, the sun caught his rifle and sparkled
for a space, thpn the point of white lire went out, and
there was nothing on the hill-top save the dust drift-
in-.
elier than I had yet been since that day, threG
months gone, when I had set out from our plantation
on the shallow Halifax, which the hammock scared;
separates from the ocean, I gathered In-idle with list-
less fingers and spoke to my mare. "Isene, we must
be moving eastward always moving, sweethi
Come, lass, there's grain somewhere m this Northern
land where you have carried me." And to myself,
muttering aloud as I rode: "A fine name he has gi
to my cousins the Vancks. this uiant forest-runner,
with his boy's face and limbs of iron! And he was
none too Co imi^ the Butlers, either cous-
ins, too, but in what degree they must tell me, 1
don't know"
road entering the forest, I ceased m
net, and again for the thousandth time 1 sniffed
at odors new to me, and scanned leafy depths for those
familiar trees which stand warden in our South
forests. There were pines, but they were not our \ >;
these feathery, dark -stemmed trees; there were oaks,
hut neither our golden water oaks nor our great .
and-silver live-oaks. Little, pale flowers bloomed
shadows only of our bright blossoms of
South; and the rare birds I saw were gray and sn
and chary of song, as though the stillness that sl< pt
in th;< Northern forest was a danjz '<> be aw.
ened. Loneliness fell on me: my shoulders 1*
my head huni: heavily, [aeoe, my mart-, paced the
soft forest- road without a sound, so quietly that the
squatting rabbit leaped from between her forelegs, .
the slim, striped, squirrel-like creatures crouched par-
o
THE ROAD TO VARICKS
alyzed as we passed ere they burst into their shrill
chatter of fright or anger, I know not which.
Had I a night to spend in this wilderness I should
not know where to find a palmetto - fan for a torch,
where to seek light-wood for splinter. It was all new
to me; signs read riddles; tracks were sealed books;
the east winds brought rain, where at home they
bring heaven's own balm to us of the Spanish grants
on the seaboard; the northwest winds that we dread
turn these Northern skies to sapphire, and set bees
a-humming on every bud.
There was no salt in the air, no citrus scent in the
breeze, no heavy incense of the great magnolia bloom
perfuming the wilderness like a cathedral aisle where
a young bride passes, clouded in lace.
But in the heat a heavy, sweetish odor hung ; bal-
s;mi it is called, and mingled, too, with a faint scent
like our bay, which comes from a woody bush called
sweet-fern. That, and the strong smell of the bluish,
sh< rt-needled pine, was ever clogging my nostrils and
confusing me. Once I thought to scent a 'possum,
but the musky taint came from a rotting log; and a
stale fox might have crossed to windward and I not
noticed, so blunted had grown my nose in this un-
familiar Northern world.
Musing, restless, dimly confused, and doubly watch-
ful, I rode through the timber-belt, and out at last into
a dusty, sunny road. And straightway I sighted a
house.
The house was of stone, and large and square and
gray, with only a pillared porch instead of the long
double galleries we build; and it had a row of win-
dows in the roof, called dormers, and was surrounded
by a stockade of enormous timbers, in the four cor-
ners of which were set little forts pierced for rifle fire.
Noble trees stood within the fortified lines; outside,
9
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
green meadows ringed the place ; and the grass was
thick and soft, and vivid as a green jewel in color-^-
such grass as we never see save for a spot here and
there in swampy places where the sun falls in early
spring.
The house was yet a hundred rods away to the east-
: d. I rode on slowly, noticing the neglected fences on
either hand, and thought that my cousin Vanck might
have found an hour to mend them, for his pride's sake.
Isene, my mare, had already scented the distant
stables, and was pricking forward her beautiful ears
as I Hushing my broad hat of plaited palmetto and
placed it on ray head, the better to salute my hosts wlu-n
I should ride to their threshold in the Spanish fashion
we followed at home.
So, cantering on, I crossed a log bridge which spanned
a ravine, below which I saw a grist-mill ; and so came
to the stockade. The gate was open and unguarded,
and I guided my mare through without a challenge
from the small corner forts, and rode straight to
porch, where an ancient negro serving-man stood,
dressed in a tawdry livery too large for him. A
drew bridle he gave me a dull, almost sullen glar
and it was not until I spoke sharply to him that IK
shambled forward and descended the two steps to hold
my stirrup.
"Is Sir Lupus at home?" I asked, looking curiously
at this mute, dull-eyed black, so different from our
grinning lads at home.
" Yaas, suh, he done come home, suh "
" Then announce Mr. George Ormond," I said.
He stared, but did not offer to move.
"Did you hear me?" 1 asked, astonished,
aas, suh, I done hear yoh, suh."
I looked him over in amazement, then walked past
him towards the door.
10
THE ROAD TO VARICKS'
"Is you gwine look fob Mars' Lupus?" he asked,
barring my way with one wrinkled, blue-black hand
on the brass door-knob. " Kaze ef you is, you don't
had better, suh."
I could only stare.
"Kaze Mars' Lupus done say he gwine kill de
fustest man what 'sturb him, suh," continued the black
man, in a listless monotone. " An' I spec' he gwine
do it."
"Is Sir Lupus abed at this hour?" I asked.
"Yaas, suh."
There was no emotion in the old man's voice. Some-
thing made me think that he had given the same mes-
sage to visitors many times.
I was very angry at the discourtesy, for he must have
known when to expect me from my servant, who had
accompanied me by water with my boxes from St.
Augustine to Philadelphia, where I lingered while he
went forward, bearing my letter with him. Yet, an-
gry and disgusted as I was, there was nothing for me
to do except to swallow the humiliation, walk in, and
twiddle my thumbs until the boorish lord of the manor
waked to greet his invited guest.
"I suppose I may enter," I said, sarcastically.
"Yaas, suh; Miss Dorry done say: 'Cato,' she say,
'ef de young gem 'man come when Mars' Lupus am
drunk, jess take care n' him, Cato ; put him mos' any-
where 'cep in mah bed, Cato, an' jess call me ef I ain'
busy 'bout mah business ' "
Still rambling on, he opened the door, and I entered
a wide hallway, dirty and disordered. As I stood hesi-
tating, a terrific crash sounded from the floor above.
"Spec' Miss Dorry busy," observed the old man,
raising his solemn, wrinkled face to listen.
"Uncle," I said, "is it true that you are all mad in
this house?"
II
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"We sho' is, suh/' he replied, without interest.
"Are you too crazy to care for ni} r horse?"
"Oh no, suh."
"Then go and rub her down, and feed her, and let
me sit here in the hallway. I want to think. "
Another crash shook the ceiling of solid oak; very
far away I heard a young girl's laughter, tlu n a stifled
chorus of voices from the floor above.
"Das Miss Dorry an' de chilluns," observed the old
man.
"Who are the others?"
\\aal dey is Miss Celia, an' Mars' Harry, an'
Mars' Ruyven, an' Mars' Sam'l, an' de babby, li'l
Mars' Bem
"All madr
"Yaas, suh ."
I 11 be, too, if I remain here," I said. "Is there an
inn near by?"
"De Turkle-dove an' Olives."
"Bout five mile long de pike, suh/'
"Feed ray horse," I said, sullenly, and sat down
on a settle, rifle cradled between my knees, and in
my heart wrath immeasurable against my kin th*
Varicks.
II
IN THE HALLWAY
SO this was Northern hospitality! This a North en
gentleman's home, with its cobwebbed ceiling, its
little window-panes opaque with stain of rain and
dust, its carpetless floors innocent of wax, littered with
odds and ends here a battered riding -cane; there
a pair of tarnished spurs; yonder 1 a scarlet hunting-
coat a-trail on the banisters, with skirts all mud from
feet that mayhap had used it as a mat in rainy
ireatherl
I leaned forward and picked up the riding-crop; its
cane end was capped with heavy gold. The spurs I
also lifted for inspection ; they were beautifully wrought
in silver.
Faugh! Here was no poverty, but the shiftlessness
of a sot, trampling good things into the mire!
I looked into the fireplace. Ashes of dead embers
choked it; the andirons, smoke-smeared and crusted,
stood out stark against the sooty maw of the hearth.
Still, for all, the hall was made in good and even
noble proportion; simple, as should be the abode of a
gentleman; over-massive, perhaps, and even destitute
of those gracious and symmetrical galleries which we
of the South think no shame to take pride in ; for the
banisters were brutally heavy, and the rail above
like a rampart, and for a newel-post some ass had set
a bronze cannon, breech upward; and it was green
and beautiful, but offensive to sane consistency.
13
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Standing, the better to observe the hall on all I
it came to me that some one had stripped a fine English
mansion of fine but ancient furniture, to bring it across
an ocean and through a forest for the embellishment
of this coarse house. For there were pictures in frames
showing generals and statesmen of the Ormond-But-
lers, one even of the great duke who fled to France ;
and there were pictures of the Varicks before they
mingled with us Irish apple-cheeked Dutehi
cadaverous youths bearing matchlocks, and one, an
admiral, with star and sash across his varnish-cracked
corselet of blue steel, looking at me with pale, smoky
eyes
Rusted suits of mail, and groups of weapons made
into star shapes and circles, points outward, were ranged
between the heavy pictures, each centred with a moth
ravaged stag's head, smothered in <1
As I slowly paced the panelled wall, nose in air to
observe these neglected trophies, I came to anoi
picture, hung all alone near the wall where it passes
under the staircase, and at first, for the darkness, I
Id not see.
Imperceptibly the outlines of the shape grew in the
gloom from a deep, rich background, and I made out
a figure of a youth all cased in armor save for tlu
helmet, which was borne in one smooth, blue-veined
hand.
The face, too, began to assume fon;i ; rounded, deli-
cate, crowned with a mass of golden hair; and sud-
denly I perceived the eyes, and they seemed to open
sweetly, like violets in a dim wood.
"What Ormond is this?" I muttered, bewitched, yet
sullen to see such feminine roundness in any youth
and, with my sleeve of buckskin, I rubbed the dust
from the gilded plate set in the lower frame.
" The Maid-at-Arms," I read aloud.
14
IN THE HALLWAY
Then there came to me, at first like the far ring of a
voice scarcely heard through southern winds, the faint
echo of a legend told me ere my mother died perhaps
told me by her in those drifting hours of a child-
hood nigh forgotten. Yet I seemed to see white, sun-
drenched sands and the long, blue swell of a summer
sea, and I heard winds in the palms, and a song truly
rt was my mother's; I knew it now and, of a sudden,
the words came borne on a whisper of ancient melody:
" This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms,
Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Anns I"
Memory was stirring at last, and the gray legend
grew from the past, how a maid, Helen of Ormond, for
love of her cousin, held prisoner in his own house at
Ashby-de-la-Zouch, sheared off her hair, clothed her
limbs in steel, and rode away to seek him; and how
she came to the house at Ashby and rode straight into
the gateway, forcing her horse to the great hall where
her lover lay, and flim^ him, all in chains, across her
saddle-bow, riding like a demon to freedom through
the Desmonds, his enemies. Ah 1 now my throat was
aching with the memory of the song, and of that
strange line I never understood " Wearing the ghost-
ring!" and, of themselves, the words grew and died,
formed on my silent lips :
* This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms,
Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Arms I
** Though for all time the lords of Ormond be
Butlers to Majesty,
Yet shall new honors fail upon her
Who, armored, rode for love to Ashby Farms |
Let this her title be : A Maid-at-Anns I
* Serene mid love's alarms,
For all time shall the Maids-at-Anns,
IS
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Wearing th* ghost-ring, triumph with their constancy.
And sweetly conquer with a sigh
And vanquish with a tear
Captains a trembling world might fear.
" This for the deed she did at Ashby Farms*
Helen of Ormond, Royal Maid-at-Anns I"
Staring at the picture, lips quivering with the
Boundless words, such wivtchc-d loneliness came over
me that a dryness in my throat set me gulping, and
I groped my way back to the settle by the fireplace
and sat down heavily in homesick solitude.
Then hate came, a quick hatred for these Northern
skies, and these strangers of the North who d,
( l.urn km with me, to lure me northward with false
offer of council and mockery of hospitality.
.s on my feet again in a flash, hot with anger,
ready with insult to meet insult, for I meant to go ere
I had greeted my host an insult, indeed, and a dead-
ly one among us. Furious, I bent to snatch my riilc-
from the settle where it lay, and, as I flung it to mv
shoulder, wheeling to go, my eyes fell upon a fijj
stealing down the stairway from above, a woman in
flowered silk, bare of throat and elbow, fingers scarce-
ly touch i TILT the banisters as she mo
She hesitated, one foot poised for the step below;
then it fell noiselessly, and she stood ne.
Anger died out under the level beauty of lu-r i^i/c.
I bowed, just as I caught a trace of mockery in tin
mouth's scarlet curve, and bowed the lower for it, too,
straightening slowly to the dignity her mischievous
eyes seemed to flout; and her Lips, too, defied me, .ill
silently nay, in every limb and from every finger-tij
she seemed to flout me, and the slow, deep courtesy
made me was too slow and far too low, and her re-
covery a marvel of plastic malice.
16
IN THE HALLWAY
"My cousin Ormond?" she lisped; "I am Dorothy
Varick."
We measured each other for a moment in silence.
There was a trace of powder on her bright hair,
like a mist of snow on gold ; her gown's yoke
was torn, for all its richness, and a wisp of lace in
rags fell, clouding the delicate half - sleeve of China
silk.
Her face, colored like palest ivory with rose, was no
doll's face, for all its symmetry and a forgotten patch
to balance the dimple in her rounded chin ; it was even
noble in a sense, and, if too chaste for sensuous beauty,
yet touched with a strange and pensive sweetness, like
'witched marble waking into flesh.
Suddenly a voice came from above : " Dorothy, come
here!"
My cousin frowned, glanced at me, then laughed.
"Dorothy, I want my watch!" repeated the voice.
Still looking at me, my cousin slowly drew from her
bosom a huge, jewelled watch, and displayed it for my
inspection.
"We were matching mint-dates with shillings for
father's watch; I won it," she observed.
"Dorothy!" insisted the voice.
"Oh, la!" she cried, impatiently, "will you hush?"
"No, I won't!"
"Then our cousin Ormond will come up-stairs and
give you what Paddy gave the kettle-drum won't
you?" she added, raising her eyes to me.
"And what was that?" I asked, astonished.
Somebody on the landing above went off into fits
of laughter; and, as I reddened, my cousin Dorothy,
too, began to laugh, showing an edge of small, white
teeth under the red lip's line.
"Are you vexed because we laugh?" she asked.
My tongue stung with a retort, but I stood silent
17
THE MAID-AT-AKMS
These Varicks might forget their manners, but I might
not forget mine.
She honored me with a smile, sweeping me from
d to foot with her bright eyes. My buckskins were
dirty from travel, and the thrums in rags; and 1 k:
that she noted all these matters.
"Cousin," she lisped, "I fear you are something of
a macaroni."
Instantly a fresh volley of laugh UT rattled from the
landing such clear, hearty laughter that it infected
me, spite my chagrin.
"He's a good fellow, our cousin Onnond!" came a
fresh young voice from above.
" He shall be one of us!" cried another ; and I thought
to catch a glimpse of a flowered petticoat whisked f i
the gallery's edge.
1 looked at my cousin Dorothy Varick; she stood
at gaze, laughter in her eyes, but the mouth <
usin Dorothy," said I, "I believe I am a good
fellow, even though ragged and respectable. If these
qualities be not bars to your society, give me \
hand in fellowship, for upon my soul I am ni^h
for a welcome from somebody in this unfriendly land."
Still at gaze, she slowly raised her arm and held
out to me a fresh, sun-tanned hand ; and I had im
to press it, but a sudden shyness scotched me, and, as
the soft fingers rested in my palm, I raised them and
touched them with ray lips in silent respect.
"You have pretty manners," she said, looking at
her hand, but not withdrawing it from where it TV
Then, of an impulse, her fingers closed on mine firmly,
and she looked me straight in the eye.
"You are a good comrade; welcome to Varicks',
in Onnond!"
Our hands fell apart, and, glancing up, I perceived
a group of youthful barbarians on the stairs, intently
18
IN THE HALLWAY
watching us. As my eyes fell on them they scattered,
then closed in together defiantly. A red-haired lad of
seventeen came down the steps, offering his hand awk-
wardly.
"I'm Ruyven Varick," he said. "These girls are
fools to bait men of our age " He broke off to seize
Dorothy by the arm. " Give me that watch, you vixen ! "
His sister scornfully freed her arm, and Ruyvfn
stood sullenly clutching a handful of torn lace.
"Why don't you present us to our cousin Ormond?"
spoke up a maid of sixteen.
"Who wants to make your acquaintance?" retort-
ed Ruyven, edging again towards his sister.
I protested that I did ; and Dorothy, with mock em-
pressement, presented me to Cecile Butler, a slender,
olive-skinned girl with pretty, dark eyes, who offered
me her hand to kiss in such determined manner that
I bowed very low to cover my smile, knowing that she
had witnessed my salute to my cousin Dorothy and
meant to take nothing less for herself.
"And those boys yonder are Harry Varick and
Sam Butler, my cousins," observed Dorothy, non-
chalantly relapsing into barbarism to point them
out separately with her pink-tipped thumb ; " and that
lad on the stairs is Benny. Come on, we're to throw
hunting-knives for pennies. Can you? but of course
you can."
I looked around at my barbarian kin, who had pro-
duced hunters' knives from recesses in their clothing,
and now gathered impatiently around Dorothy, who
appeared to be the leader in their collective deviltries.
"All the same, that watch is mine," broke out Ruy-
ven, defiantly. "I'll leave it to our cousin Ormond "
but Dorothy cut in : " Cousin, it was done in this man-
ner : father lost his timepiece, and the law is that who-
ever finds things about the house may keep them. So
19
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
we all ran to the porch where father had fallen <>IT his
horse last ni^ht, and I think we all saw it at the same
and I, being the older and stronger "
>u're not the stronger!" cried Sam and. Harry,
in the same breath.
"I/' repeated Dorothy, serenely, "being not only
older than Ruyven by a year, but also stronger than
y m all together, kept the spite of your silly
el, mor and mean to keej>
"Then we matched shillings for it!" cried Cecil e.
was only fair; we all discovered it me<t
Dorothy. "But Ruyven matched with a Span
piece where the date was under the reverse, and he
says he won. Did he, cous
"Mint -dates always match!" said Ruyvei
ien of our age understand that. Cousin George,
don't i
"Have I not won f asked Dorothy, looking
at me. " If I have not, tell
With that, Sam Butler and Harry set up a clairmr
: they and Cecile had been unfairly dealt with,
all appealed to me until, bewildered, I sat d<
he stairs and looked wistfully at Dorothy.
"In Heaven's name, cousins, give me something
to eat and drink before you bring your lawsuit
me fr judgment," I &>
"Oh Dorothv her lip, "I forgot. Come
with me, cousin 1 " She seized a bell-rope and rang it
furiously, and a loud gong filled the hall with its brazen
hut nobody came.
"Where the devil are those blacks?" said Dorothy,
MR off her words with a crisp snap that startled
more than her profanity. "Catol Where are you,
you lazy "
"Ahm hyah. Miss Dorry," came a patient voice
trom the kitchen sta
20
IN THE HALLWAY
"Then bring something to eat bring it to the gun-
room instantly something for Captain Ormond and
a bottle of Sir Lupus's own claret and two glasses "
"Three glasses 1" cried Ruyven.
" Four ! " " Five ! " shouted Harry and Cecile.
"Six!" added Samuel; and little Benny piped out,
"Theven!"
"Then bring two bottles, Cato," called out Doro-
thy.
"I want some small-beer I" protested Benny.
"Oh, go suck your thumbs," retorted Ruyven, with
an elder brother's brutality ; but Dorothy ordered the
small-beer, and bade the negro hasten.
" We all mean to bear you company, Cousin," said
Ruyven, cheerfully, patting my arm for my reassur-
ance ; and truly I lacked something of assurance among
these kinsmen of mine, who appeared to lack none.
"You spoke of me as Captain Ormond/' I said,
turning with a smile to Dorothy.
"Oh, it's all one," she said, gayly; "if you're not
a captain now, you will be soon, I'll wager but I'm
not to talk of that before the children "
"You may talk of it before me," said Ruyven.
"Harry, take Benny and Sam and Cecile out of ear-
shot"
"Pooh!" cried Harry, "I know all about Sir John's
new regiment "
"Will you hush your head, you little fool I" cut in
Dorothy. "Servants and asses have long ears, and
I'll clip yours if you bray again!"
The jingling of glasses on a tray put an end to the
matter; Cato, the black, followed by two more blacks,
entered the hall bearing silver salvers, and at a nod
from Dorothy we all trooped after them.
"Guests first!" hissed Dorothy, in a fierce whisper,
as Ruyven crowded past me, and he slunk back, mor-
21
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
tified, while Dorothy, in a languid voice and with the
air of a duchess, drawled, "Your arm, cousin, and
slipped her hand into ray arm, tossing her head with
a heavy-lidded, insolent glance at poor kuyven.
And thus we entered the gun-room, I with Dorothy
Varick on my arm, and behind me, though I was not
at first aware of it, Harry, gravely conducting Cecile
in a similar manner, followed by Samuel and funny,
arm-in-arm, while Ruyven trudged sulkily by him
self.
Ill
COUSINS
T^HERE was a large, discolored table in the armory,
1 or gun-room, as they called it ; and on this, with-
out a cloth, our repast was spread by Cato, while the
other servants retired, panting and grinning like over-
fat hounds after a pack-run.
And, by Heaven! they lacked nothing for solid silver,
my cousins the Varicks, nor yet for fine glass, which
I observed without appearance of vulgar curiosity
while Cato carved a cold joint of butcher's roast and
cracked the bottles of wine a claret that perfumed
the room like a garden in September.
" Cousin Dorothy, I have the honor to raise my glass
to you," I said.
"I drink your health, Cousin George/' she said,
gravely "Benny, let that wine alone I Is there no
small-beer there, that you go coughing and staining
your bib over wine forbidden? Take his glass away,
Ruyven! Take it quick, I say!"
Benny, deprived of his claret, collapsed moodily
into a heap, and sat swinging his legs and clipping
the table, at every kick of his shoon, until my wine
danced in my glass and soiled the table.
"Stop that, you!" cried Cecile.
Benny subsided, scowling.
Though Dorothy was at some pains to assure me
that they had dined but an hour before, that did not
appear to blunt their appetites. And the manner in
23
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
which they drank astonished me, a glass of wine be-
iniT considered sufficient for young ladies at home,
and a half-glass for lads like Harry and Sam. Yet
when I emptied my glass Dorothy emptied hers, and
the servants refilled hers when they refilled mine, till
I grew anxious and watched to see that her face Bushed
not, but had my anxiety for my pains, as she changed
not a pulse-beat for all the red wine she swallowed.
And Lordl how busy were her little wluu Uvth,
while her pretty eyes roved about, watchful that onK-r
be kept at this gypsy repast. Cecile and Harry fell
to struggling for a glass, which snapped and flew to
flakes under their clutching fingers, drenching them
"Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, eyes ablaze. "Do
you wish our cousin Ormond to take us for manner-
less savaires?"
retorted Harry. "We are!"
"Oh, Lud!" drawled Cecile, languidly f.-mninir her
flushed face, " I would I had drunk small-beer Harry,
if you kick me again Til pinch!"
s a shame," observed Ruyven. "th.it Lrentlemen
of our age may not take a glass of wine together in
;\>rt"
"Your age!" laughed Dorothy. "Cousin Ormond is
hree. silly, and I'm eighteen or close t<
"And I'm seventeen," retorted Ruyven.
"Yet I throw you at wrestling," observed Doro-
thy, with a shrug.
"Oh, your big feet! Who can move them?" he re-
joined.
"Big feet? Mine?" She bent, tore a satin shoe
from her foot, and slapped it down on the table in chai-
se to all to equal it a small, silver-buckled thing
of Paddington's make, with a smart red heel and a
:ider body, slim as the crystal slipper of romance.
24
COUSINS
There was no denying its shapeliness; presently
she removed it, and, stooping, slowly drew it on her
foot.
" Is that the shoe Sir John drank your health from?"
sneered Ruyven.
A rich flush mounted to Dorothy's hair, and she
caught at her wine-glass as though to throw it at her
brother.
"A married man, too," he laughed "Sir John
Johnson, the fat baronet of the Mohawks "
"Damn you, will you hold your silly tongue?" she
cried, and rose to launch the glass, but I sprang to my
feet, horrified and astounded, arm outstretched.
"Ruyven," I said, sharply, "is it you who fling
such a taunt to shame your own kin? If there is aught
of impropriety in what this man Sir John has done,
is it not our affair with him in place of a silly gibe at
Dorothy?"
"I ask pardon," stammered Ruyven; "had there
been impropriety in what that fool, Sir John, did I
should not have spoke, but have acted long since,
Cousin Ormond."
"I'm sure of it," I said, warmly. "Forgive me,
Ruyven.
" Oh, la!" said Dorothy, her lips twitching to a smile,
" Ruyven only said it to plague me. I hate that baro-
net, and Ruyven knows it, and harps ever on a foolish
drinking-bout where all fell to the table, even Walter
Butler, and that slow adder Sir John among the first.
And they do say," she added, with scorn, "that the
baronet did find one of my old shoon and filled it to
my health damn him! "
"Dorothy!" I broke in, "who in Heaven's name
taught you such shameful oaths?"
" Oaths?" Her face burned scarlet. " Is it a shame-
ful oath to say 'Damn him'?"
THE MAID- AT- ARMS
"It is a common oath men use not gentlewomen/'
I said.
"Oh! I supposed it harmless. They all laugh when
I say it father and Guy Johnson and the rest; and
they swear other oaths wofdi 1 would not say it 1
could but I did not know there was harm in a good
smart 'damn!
She leaned back, one slender hand playing with UK*
stem of her glass; and the flush faded from her face
like an afterglow from a serene hon/.m.
I fear/' she said, "you of the South wear a polish
we lack."
"Best mirror your faults in it while you ha\v
chance," said Harry, promi
"We lack polish even Walter Butler and (inv
Johnson sneer at us under father's nose/' said Ruy-
ven. "What the devil is it in us Varicks that set
folk \vhi>i>iTini: and snu-lvt-nnir and nudging a
or? Am I parti-colored, like an Oneida at a scalp-
dance? Docs Harry wear bat's wings for ears? Are
Dorothy's legs crooked, that they al
Its y.ur ivd head," observed Cecile. "The good
folk think to see the noon-sun setting in the wood "
"Oh, tally I you always say that," snapped Ruy-
ven.
Dorothy, leaning forward, looked at me with dreamy
blue eyes that saw beyond me
"We are doubtless a little mad, ... as they say,"
she mused " Otherwise we seem to be like other folk.
We have clothing befitting, when we choose to wear 1 1 ;
we were schooled in Albany; we are people of quality.
like the other patroons; we lack nothing for servants
or tenants what ails them all, to nudge and stare and
grin when we pass?"
"Mr. Livingston says our deportment shocks all,"
murmured Cecile.
26
COUSINS
" The Schuylers will have none of us," added Harry,
plaintively "and I admire them, too."
" Oh, they all conduct shamefully when I go to school
in Albany/' burst out Sammy; "and I thrashed that
puling young patroon, too, for he saw me and refused
my salute. But I think he will render me my bow next
time."
" Do the quality not visit you here?" I asked Doro-
thy.
"Visit us? No, cousin. Who is to receive them?
Our mother is dead."
Cecile said: "Once they did come, but Uncle Var-
ick had that mistress of Sir John's to sup with them
and they took offence."
"Mrs. Van Cortlandt said she was a painted hus-
sy " began Harry.
" The Van Rensselaers left the house, vowing that
Sir Lupus had used them shamefully," added Cecile;
" and Sir Lupus said : ' Tush ! tush ! When the Van
Rensselaers are too good for the Putnams of Tribes
Hill I'll eat my spurs 1' and then he laughed till he
cried."
"They never came again; nobody of quality ever
came; nobody ever comes," said Ruyven.
"Excepting the Johnsons and the Butlers," cor-
rected Sammy.
"And then everybody geths tight; they were here
lath night and Uncle Varick is sthill abed," said little
Benny, innocently.
"Will you all hold your tongues?" cried Dorothy,
fiercely. "Father said we were not to tell anybody
that Sir John and the Ormond-Butlers visited us."
"Why not?" I asked.
Dorothy clasped both hands under her chin, rested
her bare elbows on the table, and leaned close to me,
whispering confidentially : " Because of the war with the
27
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Boston people. The country is overrun with rebels
n-bel troops at Albany, rebel gunners at Stanwix.
rebels at Edward and Hunter and Johnstown. A
scout of ten men came here last week; they were har-
rying a war-party of Brant's Mohawks, and St<
s with them, and that great ox in buckskin, Jack
Mount And do you know what he said to father?
He said, 'For Heaven's sake, turn red or blue,
Lupus, for if you don't we'll hang you to a crab-
apple and chance the color/ And father said, 'I'm
no partisan King's man'; and Jack Mom
'You're the joker of the pack, are you?' And fat
i , ' I'm not in the shuffle, and you can bear
out, you rogue!' And then Jack Mount wagged
his big forefinger at him and raid, 'Sir Lupu.s if
you're but a joker, one or t'otlu : mst discard
you I' And they rode away, priming t
laughing, and father swore and shook his cant
tlu,
In lur eagerness her lips almost touched my ear,
and her breath wanned ek.
th.it 1 saw and heard, whispered, ";md
1 Know father told Walter Butler, for a scout cr
yesterday, saying that a scout from the Rangers and
the Royal Greens had crossed the hills, and I saw
some of Sir John's Scotch loons rid mi; like warlo
on the new road, and that great fool, Francy McCraw,
tearing along at their head and crowing like a
k."
"Cousin, cousin," I protested, "all this .ill t
names even the causes and the manners of this war,
are incomprehensible to me."
"Oh," she said, in surprise, "have you in Florida
not heard of our war?"
"Yes, yes all know that war is with you, hut
that is all. I know that these Boston men
28
COUSINS
fighting our King ; but why do the Indians take
part?"
She looked at me blankly, and made a little gesture
of dismay.
"I see I must teach you history, cousin/' she said.
" Father tells us that history is being made all about
us in these days and, would you believe it? Benny
took it that books were being made in the woods all
around the house, and stole out to see, spite of the law
that father made"
"Who thaw me?" shouted Benny.
" Hush I Be quiet I " said Dorothy.
Benny lay back in his chair and beat upon the table,
howling defiance at his sister through Harry's shouts
of laughter.
"Silence!" cried Dorothy, rising, flushed and furi-
ous. "Is this a corn-feast, that you all sit yelping in
a circle? Ruyven, hold that door, and see that no one
follows us "
"What for?" demanded Ruyven, ri ng. "If you
mean to keep our cousin Ormond to yourself "
"I wish to discuss secrets with my cousin Ormond/'
said Dorothy, loftily, and stepped from her chair, nose
in the air, and that heavy-lidded, insolent glance which
once before had withered Ruyven, and now withered
him again.
"We will go to the play-room/' she whispered, pass-
ing me; "that room has a bolt; they'll all be kicking
at the door presently. Follow me/'
Ere we had reached the head of the stairs we heard
a yell, a rush of feet, and she laughed, crying : " Did
I not say so? They are after us now full bark! Come!"
She caught my hand in hers and sped up the few
remaining steps, then through the upper hallway,
guiding me the while her light feet flew; and I, em-
barrassed, bewildered, half laughing, half shamed
29
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
to go a-racing through a strange house in such absurd
a fashion.
"Here!" she panted, dragging me into a great. 1
i uber and bolting the door, then leaned breathless
against the wail to listen as the chase galloped up.
loring, kicking and beating on panel and wall.
baffled.
ITiey're raging to lose their new coi he
breathed, smiling across at me with a glint of ]>n<U in
her eyes. "They all think mightily of you, and now
they'll be mad to follow you lik i pups the wli
all day long." She tossed her head re good
lads, and Cccile is a sweet child, too, but they must be
made to understand that there are moments when y. .u
and I desire to be alone together/'
"Of course," I said, gravely.
u and I have much to consider, much to discuss
in these uncertain days," she said, confidently. "And
we cannot ba ble matters of import to these chil-
dren-"
"I'm seventeen 1" howled Ruyven, through the key-
hole. "Dorothy's not eighteen till next month, the
little fool"
"Don t mind him," said Dorothy, raising her voice
far Ruyven 's benefit " A lad who listens to his elders
through a key-hole is not fit for serious "
A heavy assault on the door drowned Dorothy
voice. She waited calmly until the uproar had sub-
sided.
"Let us sit by the window," she said, "and I will
tell you h< >w we Varicks stand betwixt the deep sea and
the devil/'
" I wish to come in!" shouted Ruyven, in a threaten-
ing voice. Dorothy laughed, and pointed to a great
arm-chair of leather and oak. " I will sit there ; place
it by the window, cousin."
30
COUSINS
I placed the chair for her ; she seated herself with un-
conscious grace, and motioned me to bring another
chair for myself.
"Are you going to let me in?" cried Ruyven.
"Oh, go to the" began Dorothy, then flushed and
glanced at me, asking pardon in a low voice.
A nice parent, Sir Lupus, with every child in his
family ready to swear like Flanders troopers at the
first breath!
Half reclining in her chair, limbs comfortably ex-
tended, Dorothy crossed her ankles and clasped her
hands behind her head, a picture of indolence in every
line and curve, from satin shoon to the dull gold of
her hair, which, as I have said, the powder scarcely
frosted.
"To comprehend properly this war," she mused,
more to herself than to me, " I suppose it is necessary
to understand matters which I do not understand;
how it chanced that our King lost his city of Boston,
and why he has not long since sent his soldiers here
into our county of Tryon."
"Too many rebels, cousin," I suggested, flippantly.
She disregarded me, continuing quietly :
" But this much, however, I do understand, that our
province of New York is the centre of all this trouble ;
fhat the men of Tryon hold the last pennyweight, and
that the balanced scales will tip only when we patroons
cast in our fortunes, . . . either with our King or with
the rebel Congress which defies him. I think our
hearts, not our interests, must guide us in this affair,
which touches our honor."
Such pretty eloquence, thoughtful withal, was not
what I had looked for in this new cousin of mine this
free-tongued maid, who, like a painted peach-fruit all
unripe, wears the gay livery of maturity, tricking the
eye with a false ripeness.
31
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"I have thought/' she said, "that if the issues of
this war depend on us, we patroons should not draw
sword too hastily yet not to sit like house-cats blink-
it this world-wide blaze, but, in the full flood of ihe
drawl knowing of our own minds on which
lies the right."
" Who taught you this?" I asked, surprised to over-
bluntness.
"Who taught me? What? To think?" Shelaugh-
ed. "Solitude is a rare spur to thought. I listen to
the gentlemen who talk with father; and I would
gladly join and have my say, too, but that they treat
me like a fool, and I have my questions for my pains
Yet I swear I am dowered with more sense than Sir
John Johnson, with his pale eyes and t hite
flesh, and his tarnished honor to dog him like tlu
shadow of a damned man sold to Satan "
"Is he dishonored?"
a parole broken a dishonor? The Boston peo-
ple took him and placed him on his honor to live at
Johnson Hall and do no meddling. And now li
fled to Fort Niagara to raise the Mohawks. Is that
After a moment I said : " But a moment since you
told me that Sir John comes hi
She nodded. "He comes and goes in secret with
young Walter Butler one of your ()rm<>iul-Rutlers v
cousin and old John Butler, his father, Colonel of the
Rangers, who boast they mean to scalp tlu v,h<>!
Tryon County ere this blood-feud is ended. Oh, I have
heard them talk and talk, drinking o' nights in ilu gun-
room, and the escort's horses stamping at the porch
with a man to each horse, to hold the poor brutes' noses
they should n< 1 wake the woods. Coun-
cils of war, they call them, these revels; but they end
ever the same, with Sir John borne off to bed too drunk
32
COUSINS
to curse the slaves who shoulder his fat bulk, and Wal-
ter Butler, sullen, stunned by wine, a brooding thing
of malice carved in stone; and father roaring his same
old songs, and beating time with his long pipe till the
stem snaps, and he throws the glowing bowl at Cato '
"Dorothy, Dorothy," I said, "are these the scenes
you find already too familiar?"
"Stale as last month's loaf in a ratty cupboard."
"Do they not offend you?"
"Oh, I am no prude
" Do you mean to say Sir Lupus sanctions it?"
"What? My presence? Oh, I amuse them; they
dress me in Ruyven's clothes and have me to wine
lacking a tenor voice for their songs and at first, long
ago, their wine made me stupid, and they found rare
sport in baiting me ; but now they tumble, one by one,
ere the wine's fire touches my face, and father swears
there is no man in County Tryon can keep our com-
pany o' nights and show a steady pair of legs like mine
to bear him bedwards."
After a moment's silence I said: "Are these your
Northern customs?"
"They are ours and the others of our kind. I
hear the plain folk of the country speak ill of us for the
free life we lead at home I mean the Palatines and
the canting Dutch, not our tenants, though wiiat even
they may think of the manor house and of us I can
only suspect, for they are all rebels at heart, Sir John
says, and wear blue noses at the first run o' king's
cider."
She gave a reckless laugh and crossed her knees,
looking at me under half-veiled lids, smooth and pure
as a child's.
"Food for the devil, they dub us in the Palatine
church," she added, yawning, till I could see all her
small, white teeth set in rose.
* 33
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
A nice nest of kinsmen had I uncovered in this hard,
gray Northern forest ! The Lord knows, we of the South
do little jK-nance for the pleasures a free life brings us
under the Southern stars, yet such license as this is
not to our taste, and I think a man a fool to teach his
children to review with hardened eyes home scenes
\-d to a tavern.
Yet I was a guest, having accepted shelter and eat-
en salt; and I might not say my mind, even claim
kinsman's privilege to rebuke what seemed to me to
touch the family honor.
Staring through the unwashed window-pane, mood-
ily brooding on what I had learned, I followed impa-
tiently the flight of those small, gray swallows of the
North, colorless as shadows, \\hHm:: in spirals above
the cold chimneys, to tumble in like flakes of gray soot
only to drift out again, wind - blown, aimless, irra-
enseless things. And again that liatred seized
for all this pale Northern \\lure the very
!* gyrated like moon-smitten sprites, and ti
spec t iv "f virtue sat amid here bloodless fools
roused.
" Are you homesick, cousin?" she asked.
"Ay ii you must know the truthl" I broke out,
now meaning to say my fill and ease me ' I Ins i.
the world ; it is a gray inferno, where shades rave with-
out reason, where there is no color, no repose, noth
but blank ness and unreason, and an air that stings
all living life to spasms of unrest Your sun is i
yet has no balm; your winds plague the skin
bones of a man; the forests are unfriendly ; the \vaters
all hurry as though bewitched! Brooks are cold .
tasteless as the fog ; the unsalted, spiceless air clogs the
throat and whips the nerves till the very soul in the
body strains, fluttering to be free! How can decent
folk abide here?"
34
COUSINS
I hesitated, then broke into a harsh laugh, for my
cousin sat staring at me, lips parted, like a fair shape
struck into marble by a breath of magic.
" Pardon," I said. " Here am I, kindly invited to the
council of a family whose interests lie scattered through
estates from the West Indies to the Canadas, and I
requite your hospitality by a rudeness I had not be-
lieved was in me."
I asked her pardon again for the petty outburst of
an untravelled youngster whose first bath in this
Northern air -ocean had chilled his senses and his
courtesy.
"There is a land," I said, "where lately the gray
bastions of St. Augustine reflected the gold and red
of Spanish banners, and the blue sea mirrors a bluer
sky. We Ormonds came there from the Western Indies,
then drifted south, skirting the Mutanzas to the sea
islands on the Halifax, where I was born, an English-
man on Spanish soil, and have lived there, knowing no
land but that of Florida, treading no city streets save
those walled lanes of ancient Augustine. All this vast
North is new to me, Dorothy; and, like our swamp-
haunting Seminoles, my rustic's instinct finds hostil-
ity in what is new and strange, and I forget my
breeding in this gray maze which half confuses, half
alarms me."
"I am not offended," she said, smiling, "only I
wonder what you find distasteful here. Is it the soli-
tude?"
"No, for we also have that."
"Is it us?"
" Not you, Dorothy, nor yet Ruyven, nor the others.
Forget what I said. As the Spaniards have it, ' Only
a fool goes travelling/ and I'm not too notorious for
my wisdom, even in Augustine. If it be the custom of
the people here to go mad, I'll not sit in a corner croak
35
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
incr, ' Repent and be wise!' If the Varicks and the
Butlers set the pace, I promise you to keep the quarry,
Mistress Folly, in view ]xrhaps outfoot you all to
Bedlam 1 . . . But, cousin, if }*ou, too, run this un-
coupled race with the pack, I mean to pace you, r
and neck, like a keen whip, ready to turn and lash the
first who interferes with you."
"With me?" she repeated, smiling. "Am I a
youngster to be coddled and protected? You have
not seen our hunting. / lead, my friend; you fol-
io*
She unclasped her arms, which till now had held
her bright head cradled, and sat up, hands on her
knees, grave as an Egyptian goddess guarding
tombs,
1 wager I can outrun tshoot you, out-
i, throw you at wrestle, cast the knit
truer than i, catch more fish than you and
\ys ones at thai
i an impatient gesture, peculiarly graceful, like
the half-salute of a friendly swordsman ere you draw
and stand on guard:
* Read the forest with me. I can outread you, sign
for sign, track for track, trail in and trail out! Thf
forest is to me Te-ka-on-do-duk [the place with a
sign -post]. And when the confederacy speaks with
five tongues, and every tongue split into five forked
dialects, I make no answer in finger-signs, as needs
must you, my cousin of the Se-a-wan-ha-ka [the land
)f shells]. We speak to the Iroquois with our lips, we
People of the Morning. Our hands are for our rifles I
Iliro[Ihavespoke:
She laughed, challenging me with eye and lip.
* And if you defy me to a bout with bowl or bottle
I will not turn coward, neah-wen-ha [I thank you]! but
I will drink with you and let my father judge whose
Jfi
COUSINS
legs best carry him to bed! Koue! Answer me, my
cousin, Tahoontowhe [the night hawk].'*
We were laughing now, yet I knew she had spoken
seriously, and to plague her I said: "You boast like
a Seminole chanting the war-song."
"I dare you to cast the hatchet 1" she cried, redden-
ing,
"Dare me to a trial less rude," I protested, laugh-
ing the louder.
"No, no! Come!" she said, impatient, unbolting the
heavy door; and, willy-nilly, I followed, meeting the
pack all sulking on the stairs, who rose to seize me as
1 came upon them.
"Let him alone!" cried Dorothy; "he says he can
outcast me with the war -hatchet! Where is my
hatchet? Sammy! Ruyven! find hatchets and conic
to the painted post."
"Sport!" cried Harry, leaping down- stairs before
us. "Cecile, get your hatchet get mine, too! Come
on, Cousin Ormond, 111 guide you; it's the painted
post by the spring and hark, Cousin George, if
you beat her I'll give you my silvered powder-
horn!"
Cecile and Sammy hastened up, bearing in their arms
the slim war-hatchets, cased in holsters of bright-bead-
ed hide, and we took our weapons and started, piloted
by Harry through the door, and across the shady, un-
kempt lawn to the stockade gate.
Dorothy and 1 walked side by side, like two cham-
pions in amiable confab before a friendly battle, in-
timately aloof from the gaping crowd which follows
on the flanks of all true greatness.
Out across the deep -green meadow we marched,
the others trailing on either side with eager advice to
me, or chattering of contests past, when Walter Butler
and Brant he who is now war-chief of the loyal Mo-
37
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
hawks cast hatchets for a silver girdle, which Bntnt
wears still; and the patroon, and Sir John. ;uul all
the great folk from Guy Park were here a-beitm- mi
the Mohawk, which, they say, so angered Walter
Butler that he lost the contest And that day dated
the silent enmity between Brant and Butler, which
never healed
This I gathered amid all their chit-chat while we
stood under the willows near the spring, watching
Ruyven pace the disk* n the post back across
the greensward towards us.
Then, making his heel-mark in the grass, he took
a green willow wand and set it, all feathered, in the
turf
"Is it fair for Dorothy to cast her own hatch
asked Harry.
ve me Ruyven 's," she said, half vexed. A
that touched her sense of fairness sent a quick flame
iger to her cheeks which I admired.
"Keep your own hatchet, cousin," I said; "
may have need of it "
"Give me Ruyven 's hatchet/' she repeated, with a
stamp of her foot which Ruyven hastened to re-
spect Then she turned to me, pink with defiance :
"It is always a stranger's honor/' she said; so I
advanced, drawing my lieht, keen wcajxm from its
beaded sheath, which I had belted round me; and
Ruyven took station by the post, ten paces to the
right
The post was painted scarlet, rinered w ^ white
above; below, in outline, the form of a man an Ind-
ian with folded arms, also drawn in white paint
The play was simple ; the hatch imbed its blade
close to the outlined shape, yet not " wound " or " draw
blood."
* Brant at first refused to cast against that figure "
38
COUSINS
said Harry, laughing. "He consented only because
the figure, though Indian, was painted white."
I scarce heard him as I stood measuring with my eyes
the distance. Then, taking one step forward to the
willow wand, I hurled the hatchet, and it landed quiv-
ering in the shoulder of the outlined figure on the post.
"A wound!" cried Cecile; and, mortified, I stepped
back, biting my lip, while Harry notched one point
against me on the willow wand, and Dorothy, light-
ening her girdle, whipped out her i right war-axe and
stepped forward. Nor did she even pause to scan the
post; her arm shot up, the keen axe-blade glittered
and flew, sparkling and whirling, biting into the post,
chuck! handle a-quiver. And you could not have
laid a June willow-leaf betwixt the Indian's head and
the hatchet's blade.
She turned to me, lips parted in a tormenting smile,
and I praised the cast and took my hatchet from Ruy-
ven to try once more. Yet again I broke skin on the
thigh of the pictured captive; and again the glistening
axe left Dorothy's hand, whirring to a safe score, a
grass-stem's width from the Indian's head.
I understood that I had met my master, yet for the
third time strove; and my axe whistled true, standing
point-bedded a finger's breadth from the cheek.
"Can you mend that, Dorothy?" I asked, politely.
She stood smiling, silent, hatchet poised, then
nodded, launching the axe. Crack! came the handles
of the two hatchets, and rattled together. But the
blade of her hatchet divided the space betwixt my
blade and the painted face, nor touched the outline by
a fair hair's breadth.
Astonishment was in my face, not chagrin, but she
misread me, for the triumph died out in her eyes, and,
"Oh!" she said: "I did not mean to win truly I did
not." offering her hands in friendly amend.
39
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
But at my quick laugh she brightened, still hold.
inn: my hands, regarding me with curious eyes, brill-
iant as amethysts.
"I waa afraid I had hurt your pride before these
silly children " she began.
"Children!" shouted Ruyveru "I bet you ten shil-
lings he can outcast y. u yell"
"Done!" she flashed, then, all in a breath, smiled
adorably and shcol ad. "No, I'll not bet. 1 L
could win if he We understand each other, my
cousin Ormond and I," and gave my kinds a i
friendly shake with both of hers, then dropped them
to still Ruyven's clamor for a wager.
" You little beast!" she said, fiercely; "is it cour-
teous to pit your guests like game-cocks for your
pleasure?"
''You did it yourself!" retorted Ruyven, indignant-
ly "and entered the pit yourself."
r a jest, silly I There were no bets. Now frown
and vapor and wag your finger do! What do you
lack? I will wrestle you if you wait until I don my
buckskins. No? A foot-race? and 111 bet you your
ten shillings on myself! Ten to five to three to
one! No? Then hush your silly head!"
"Because," said Rnwm, sullenly, coming up to
me, "she can outrun me with her long legs, she gives
herself the dev i airs and graces. Tluiv's no
livinir with her, I tell you. I wish I could go to the
war."
"You 11 have to go when father declares him
observed Dorothy, quietly polishing her hatchet on
heath.
"But he won't declare for King or Congress," re-
torted the boy.
" Wait till they start to plague us/' murmured Doro-
thy. "Some fine July day cows will be missed, or a
40
COUSINS
barn burned, or a shepherd found scalped. Then you'll
see which way the coin spins 1"
"Which way will it spin?" demanded Ruyven, in-
credulous yet eager.
" Ask that squirrel yonder/' she said, briefly.
"Thanks; I've asked enough of chatterers/' he
snapped out, and came to the tree where we were sit-
ting in the shadow on the cool, thick carpet of the grass
such grass as I had never seen in that fair South
land which I loved.
The younger children gathered shyly about me,
their active tongues suddenly silent, as though, all at
once, they had taken a sudden alarm to find me
there.
The reaction of fatigue was settling over me for
my journey had been a long one that day and I leaned
my back against the tree and yawned, raising my
hand to hide it
"I wonder," I said, "whether anybody here knows
if my boxes and servant have arrived from Phila-
delphia/'
" Your boxes are in the hallway by your bed-cham-
ber/' said Dorothy. "Your servant went to Johns-
town for news of you let me see I think it was Sat-
urday "
"Friday/* said Ruyven, looking up from the wil-
low wand which he was peeling.
"He never came back/' observed Dorothy. "Some
believe he ran away to Albany, some think the Bos-
ton people caught him and impressed him to work on
the fort at Stanwix."
I felt my face growing hot
"I should like to know," said I, "who has dared to
interfere with my servant"
"So should I," said Ruyven, stoutly. "I'd knock
his head off/' The others stared. Dorothy, picking
M
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
a meadow-flower to pieces, smiled quietly, but did noi
look u
"What do you think has happened to my black?'
I asked, watching her.
" I think Walter Butler's men caught him and packed
him off to Fort Niagara/' she said.
" Why do you believe that?" I asked, angrily.
"Because Mr. Butler came here looking for boat-
men; and I know he tried to bribe Cato to go. Cato
told me." She turned sharply to the olh But
mind you say nothing to Sir Lupus of this until I choose
aD himl"
'* Have you proof that Mr. Butler was concerned in
the disappearance of my servant?" I asked, with an
unpleasant softness in my voice.
"No proof/' replied Dorothy, also very softly.
" Then I may not even question him," I saicL
"No, you can do nothing n<
I thought a moment, frowning, then glanced up to
them all intently uat, lung me.
"I should like/' said I, "to have a tub of clean water
and fresh clothing, and to sleep for ,m hour ere I dress
to dine with Sir Lupus. Hut. lirM, I should like to see
my mare, that she is well bedded and "
"I'll see to 1: <l Dorotli LJ to her feet.
" Ruyven, do you tell Cato to wait on Captain Ormoi
And to Harry and Cecile : " Bowl on the lawn if
mean to bowl, ;; in the hallway, while our coi
is sleepinc." And to Benny: "If you tumble or fall
into any foolishness, see that you squall no louder
than a kitten mewing. Our cousin means to sleep for
a whole hour."
As I rose, nodding to them gravely, all their shy
deference seemed to return; they were no longer a
careless, chattering band, crowding at my elbows to
pluck ray sleeves with, "Oh, Cousin Ormond" this,
42
COUSINS
and "Listen, cousin/' that; but they stood in a covey,
close together, a trifle awed at ray height, I suppose;
and Ruyven and Dorothy conducted me with a new
ceremony, each to outvie the other in politeness of
language and deportment, calling to my notice de-
tails of the scenery in stilted phrases which nigh con-
vulsed me, so that I could scarce control the set gravity
of my features.
At the house door they parted company with me,
all save Ruyven and Dorothy. The one marched off
to summon Cato; the other stood silent, her head a
little on one side, contemplating a spot of sunlight on
the dusty floor.
"About young Walter Butler," she began, absently;
" be not too short and sharp with him, cousin."
*' I hope I shall have no reason to be too blunt with
my own kin," I said.
"You may have reason " She hesitated, then,
with a pretty confidence in her eyes, "For my sake
please to pass provocation unnoticed. None will
doubt your courage if you overlook and refuse to be
affronted."
" I cannot pass an affront," I said, bluntly. " What
do you mean? Who is this quarrelsome Mr. But-
ler?"
"An Ormond-Butler," she said, earnestly; "but
but he has had trouble a terrible disappointment in
love, they say. He is morose at times a sullen, sus-
picious man, one of those who are ever seeking for
offence where none is dreamed of; a man quick to give
umbrage, quicker to resent a fancied slight a re-
morseless eye that fixes you with the passionless men-
ace of a hawk's eye, dreamily marking you for a vic-
tim. He is cruel to his servants, cruel to his animals,
terrible in his hatred of these Boston people. Nobody
knows why they ridiculed him; but they did. That
43
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
adds to the fuel which feeds the flame in him that
and the brooding on his own grievances "
She moved nearer to me and laid her hand on ir.y
sleeve. " Cousin, the man is mad ; I ask you to reiiK niU >r
that in a moment of just provocation. It would grieve
me if he were your enemy I should not sleep for think-
ing."
" Dorothy/' I said, smiling, "I use some weapons
better than I do the war-axe. Are you afraid f
She looked at me seri< In that little
which I know there is much that terrifies men, yii I
can say, without boast i UK. Dot, in my world,
one living creature or o h or spirit that I dread
no, not even Catrine Montour!"
"And who is Catrine Montour?" I asked, amused
at her earnestness.
she could reply, Ruyven called from i
that Cato had my tub of water all prepared, and she
walked awaj, nodding a brief adieu, pausing at the
door to give me one sweet, swift smile of friendly in-
IV
SIR LUPUS
I HAD bathed and slept, and waked once more to
the deep, resonant notes of a conch-shell blowing ;
and I still lay abed, blinking at the sunset through
the soiled panes of my western window, when Cato
scraped at the door to enter, bearing my sea -boxes
one by one.
Reaching behind me, I drew the keys from under my
pillow and tossed them to the solemn black, lying still
once more to watch him unlock my boxes and lay out
my clothes and linen to the air.
"Company to sup, suh; geinmcn from de No'th an*
Guy Pahk, suh," he hinted, rolling his eyes at me and
holding up my best wristbands, made of my mother's
lace.
" I shall dress soberly, Cato/' said I, yawning. " Give
me a narrow queue-ribbon, too."
The old man mumbled and muttered, fussing about
among the boxes until he found a full suit of silver-
gray, silken stockings, and hound's-tongue shoes to
match.
" Dishyere clothes sho' is sober," he reflected aloud.
"One li'l gole vine a-crawlin' on de cuffs, nuvver li'l
gole vine a-creepin' up de wes'coat, gole buckles on de
houn'-tongue Wharde hat? Hat done loose hisse'f!
Here de hat! Gole lace on de hat Cap'in Ormond
sho' is quality gemm'n. Ef he ain't, how come
dishy ere gole lace on de hat?"
45
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Come, Cato," I remonstrated, "am I dressing fora
ball at Augustine, that you stand there pulling ;
finery about to choose and pick? I tell you to give ;m
a sober suit!" I snatched a flowered robe from the
bed's foot-board, pulled it about me, and stepped to
the floor.
Cato brought a chair and bowl, and, when I had
washed once more I seated myself while the old man
shook out my hair, dusted it to n . i hen
it 11 to combing and brushing. My hair, with its ob-
stinate inclination to curl, needed neiiiuT iron nor
pomade; so, silvering it with my best French j
der, he tied the short queue with a black ribbon and
ted my shoulders, critically considering me the
while.
" A plain shirt," I said, briefly.
He brought a frilled one.
" I want a plain shirt," I insisted
" Dishyere sho't am des de plaincs' an* de "
" You villain, don't I know what I want 7 "
"No, suh!"
And, upon my honor, I could not get that black
mule to find me the shirt that I wished to wear. More
than that, he utterly refused to permit me to dress in
a certain suit of mouse-color without lace, but actually
bundled me into the silver-gray, talking volubly all
the while; and I, half laughing an v vexed, al-
most minded to go burrowing myself among my boxes
and risk peppering silk and vt h hair-powder.
But he dressed me as it suited him, pat silk
shoes into shape, smoothing coat-skirt and flowered
vest-flap, shaking out the lace on stock and wrist with
all the delicacy and cunning of a lady's-maid.
"Idiot!" said I, "am I tricked out to please you?"
" You she' is, Cap'in On ' ih," he said, the
faint approach to a grin that I had seen wrinkling his
46
SIR LUPUS
aged face. And with that he hung my small-sword,
whisked the powder from my shoulders with a bit of
cambric, chose a laced handkerchief for me, and, ere I
could remonstrate, passed a tiny jewelled pin into my
powdered hair, where it sparkled like a frost crystal.
"I'm no macaroni!" I said, angrily; "take it away!"
"Cap'in Ormond, suh, you sho' is de fines' young
gemm'n in de province, suh," he pleaded. "Dess
regahd yo'se'f, suh, in dishyere lookum-glass. What
I done tell you? Look foh yo'se'f, suh! Cap'in But-
ler gwine see how de quality gemm'n fixes up! Suh
John Johnsing he gwine see! Dat ole Kunnel Butler
he gwine see, too! Heah yo' is, suh, dess a-bloomin'
L,!. -Lc pink-an '-silver ghos' flower wif de gole heart."
"Cato," I asked, curiously, "why do you take pride
in tricking out a stranger to dazzle your own people?"
The old man stood silent a moment, then looked up
with the mild eyes of an aged hound long privileged
in honorable retirement.
"Is you sho' a Ormond, suh?"
"Yes, Cato."
"Might you come f'om de Spanish grants, suh,
'long de Halifax?"
" Yes, yes ; but we are English now. How did you
know I came from the Halifax?"
"I knowed it, suh; I knowed h'it muss be dat-a-
way!"
" How do you know it, Cato?"
" I spec' you favor yo' pap, suh, de ole Kunnel "
"My father!"
" Mah ole marster, suh ; I was raised long Matanzas,
suh. Spanish man done cotch me on de Tomoka an'
ship me to Quebec. Ole Suh William Johnsing, he
done buy me; Suh John, he done sell me; Mars Varick,
he buy me; an' hyah ah is, suh heart dess daid foh
de Halifax san's."
47
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
He bent his withered head and laid his face on my
hands, but no tear fell.
After a moment he straightened, snuffled, and smiled,
opening his lips with a dry clu
" H'it's dat-a-way, suh. Ole Cato dess 'bleged to fix
up de young marster. Pride o' famhly, suh. What
lit you be desirin' now, Mars' Onnond? One li'l
drap o' musk on yoh hanker? Lawd save us, but
you sho' is gallus dishyere dayl Spec' Miss Dorry
.:ie blink de vi'lets in her eyes. Yaas, suh. Miss
Dorry am de only one, suh; de onliest Ormond in
dishyere fambly. Seem mos' lak she done throw back
to our folk, suh. Miss Dorry ain' no Varick; .A'
Dorry all Onnond, suh, dess lak you an' me! Yaas,
suh, h'its dat-a-way; h'it sho' is, Mars' Ormond."
I drew a deep, quivering breath. li<>me seemed so
1 the old slave would never live to see it. I felt
as though this steel -cold North held me, too, like a
trap never to unclose.
"Cato," I said, abruptly, "let us go home."
He understood; a gleam of purest joy flickered in
i yes, then died out, quenched in swelling tears.
1 Ie wept awhile, standing there in the centre of the
room, smearing the tears away with the flapping sleeves
of his tarnished livery, while, like a committed \
I paced the walls, to and fro, to and fro. heart aching
for escape.
The litrht in the west deepened above the forests;
a IOIILT. ult'wini; erack opened between two thunderous
clouds, like a hint of hidden hell, firing the whole sk\ .
1 in the blaze the crows winged, two and two, like
hes flying home to the infernal pit, now all ablaze
and kindling coal on coal along the dark sky's som-
bre brink.
Then the red bars faded on my wall to pink, to ashes;
a fleck of rosy cloud in mid-zenith glimmered and
48
SIR LUPUS
went out, and the round edges of the world were cur-
tained with the night.
Behind me, Cato struck flint and lighted two tall
candles ; outside the lawn, near the stockade, a stable-
lad set a conch-horn to his lips, blowing a deep, melodi-
ous cattle-call, and far away I heard them coming
tin, ton! tin, ton! tinkle! through the woods, slowly,
slowly, till in the freshening dusk I smelled their milk
and heard them lowing at the unseen pasture-bars.
I turned sharply; the candle-light dazzled me. As
I passed Cato, the old man bowed till his coat-cuffs
hung covering his dusky, wrinkled fingers.
"When we go, we go together, Cato," I said, husk-
ily, and so passed on through the brightly lighted hall-
way and down the stairs.
Candle-light glimmered on the dark pictures, the
rusted circles of arms, the stags' heads with their dusty
eyes. A servant in yellow livery, lounging by tin
door, rose from the settle as I appeared and threw open
the door on the left, announcing, "Cap'm Ormond!"
in a slovenly fashion which merited a rebuke from
somebody.
The room into which the yokel ushered me appeared
to be a library, low of ceiling, misty with sour pipe
smoke, which curled and floated level, wavering as
the door closed behind me.
Through the fog, which nigh choked me with its
staleness, I perceived a bulky gentleman seated at
ease, sucking a long clay pipe, his bulging legs cocked
up on a card-table, his little, inflamed eyes twinkling
red in the candle-light.
" Captain Ormond ?" he cried. " Captain be damned ;
you're my cousin, George Ormond, or I'm the fattest
liar south of Montreal! Who the devil put 'em up to
captaining you eh? Was it that minx Dorothy?
Dammy, I took it that the old Colonel had come to
4 " 49
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
irue me from his grave your father, sir! And a
cd line fellow, if he was second cousin to a Varick,
which he could not help, not he! though I've heard
him damn his luck to my very face, sir! Yes, sir,
lor my very nose!"
.11 into a fit of fat coughing, and seized a glass
of spirits-and- water which stood on the table near his
feet. The draught allayed his spasm; lu wiped his
broad, purple face, chuckled, tossed off the last of the
liquor with a smack, and held out a mottled, fat hand,
bare of wrist-lace. " Here's my heart with it, George!"
IK cried. " I'd stand up to greet you, but
minutes for me to find these feet o' mine, so I'll not
keep you waiting. There's a chair; till it with th.-u
pretty body of yours ; cock up your feet here's a pipe
here's snuff here's the best rum north o' Norf
which that ass Dunmore laid in ashes to spite those
who kicked him on
He squeezed ray hand affectionately. " Pn
Dammy, but you'll break a heart or two, you roj.
Oh. you are your father all over again; it's that v
with you Ormonds all alike, and handsome as that
young devil Lucifer; too proud to be proud o' your
dukes and admirals, and a thousand years of wait
on ng. As lads together your father used to
take me by the ear and cufT me, crying, ' Beast! be
i eat and drink too much! An Ormond
lies not in his belly!' Ai ked back, fi^lr
stoutly for the crust he dragged me from. Dammy,
why not? There's more Dutch Varick than Irish
Ormond in me. Rememlvr that, George, and we shall
get on famously together, you and I. Forget it, and
we quarrel. Hey! fill that t in glass for a
toa ve you the family, George. May they keep
tight hold on what is theirs through all this cursed
war-folly. Here's to the patroons, (iod bless 'em!"
50
SIR LUPUS
Forced by courtesy to drink ere I had yet tasted
meat, I did my part with the best grace I could muster,
turning the beautiful glass downward, with a bow to
my host
"The same trick o' grace in neck and wrist/' he
muttered, thickly, wiping his lips. " All Ormond, all
Ormond, George, like that vixen o' mine, Dorothy.
Hey ! It's not too often that good blood throws back ;
the mongrel shows of tenest ; but that big chit of a lass
is no Varick ; she's Ormond to the bones of her. Ruy-
ven's a red-head ; there's red in the rest o' them, and
the slow Dutch blood. But Dorothy's eyes are like
those wild iris -blooms that purple all our meadows,
and she has the Ormond hair that thick, dull gold,
which that French Ormond, of King Stephen's time,
was dowered with by his Saxon mother, Helen.
Eh? You see, I read it in that book your father k-ft
us. If I'm no Ormond, I like to find out why, and I
love to dispute the Ormond claim which Walter But-
ler makes he with his dark face and hair, and those
dusky, golden eyes of his, which turn so yellow when I
plague him the mad wild-cat that he is."
Another fit of choking closed his throat, and again
lu soaked it open with his chilled toddy, rattling the
stick to stir it well ere he drained it at a single, gob-
bling gulp.
A faint disgust took hold on me, to sit there smoth-
ering in the fumes of pipe and liquor, while my gross
kinsman guzzled and gabbled and guzzled again.
"George," he gasped, mopping his crimsoned face,
"I'll tell you now that we Varicks and you Ormonds
must stand out for neutrality in this war. The But-
lers mean mischief; they're mad to go to fighting,
and that means our common ruin. They'll be here
to-night, damn them."
"Sir Lupus," I ventured, "we are all kinsmen, the
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Butlers, the Varicks, and the Ormonds. We are to
her here for self-protection during this rebellion.
I am sure that in the presence of t non danger
there can arise no family dissension."
"Yes, there can!" he fairly yelled. "Here am I
risking life and property to persuade these Hu tiers
lh.it their ii. s in strictest neutrality. If Schuy-
ler at Albany knew they visited me, his dragoons would
gallop into Varick Manor and hang me to my 1>.
door! Here am I, I say, doing my best to keep em
quiet, and there's Sir John Johnson and all that brag-
gim rom Guy Park combating me nay, would
you believe their impudence? striving to win me to
arm my tenantry for this King of Kngland, who has
done nothing for me, save to make a knight of me t
curry favor with the Dutch patroons in New York
vince or state, as they call it now! And now I
have you to count on for support, and we'll whistle an-
other jig for them to-night, I'll warr.
Me seized his unfilled glass, looked into it, and
ied it from him peevishly.
"Dammv," he said, "I'll not budge for them! I
have thousands of acres, hundreds of t farms,
sugar-bushes, manufactories for pearl-ash, <:nst -mills,
saw-mills, and I'm damned if I draw sword t-ither way!
Am I a madman, to risk all this? Am I a common
fool, to chance '.' Do th< me in
my dotage? Indeed, sir, if I drew blade, if I as much
as raised a finger, both sides would come swarming
all over us rebels a-looting and a-shooting, Indians
whooping off my cattle, firing my barns, scalping my
tenants rebels at heart every one, and Id not care
tuppence who scalped 'em but that they pay me rent!"
1 Ie clinched his fat fists and beat the air angrily.
n lord of this manor!" he bawled. " I'm Patroon
Varick, and I'll do as I please I"
52
SIR LUPJS
Amazed and mortified at his gross frankness, I sat
silent, not knowing what to say. Interest alone swayed
him ; the right and wrong of this quarrel were nothing
to him ; he did not even take the trouble to pay a hypo-
crite's tribute to principle ere he turned his back on it ;
selfishness alone ruled, and he boasted of it, waving his
short, fat arms in anger, or struggling to extend them
heavenward, in protest against these people who dared
urge him to declare himself and stand or fall with the
cause he might embrace.
A faint disgust stirred my pulse. We Ormonds had
as much to lose as he, but yelled it not to the skies,
nor clamored of gain and loss in such unseemly fashion,
ignoring higher motive.
"Sir Lupus," I said, "if we can remain neutral with
honor, that surely is wisest. But can \
"Remain neutral! Of course we can!" he shouted.
"Honorably?"
"Eh? Where's honor in this mob-rule that breaks
out in Boston to spot the whole land with a scurvy
eruption! Honor? \Vlu-rv is it in this vile distemper
which sets old neighbors here a-itching to cut each
other's throats? One s<ivs, 'You're a Tory! Take
that I ' and slips a knife into him. T'other says, ' You're
a rebel!' Bang! and blows his head off! Honor?
Bah!"
He removed his wig to wipe his damp and shiny
pate, then set the wig on askew and glared at me out
of his small, ruddy eyes.
" I'm for peace," he said, " and I care not who knows
it. Then, whether Tory or rebel win the day, here am
I, holding to my own with both hands and caring noth-
ing which rag flies overhead, so that it brings peace
and plenty to honest folk. And, mark me, then we
shall live to see these plumed and gold-laced glory-
mongers slinking round to beg their bread at our back
53
THE MAID-AT-ARiMS
doors. Dammy, let 'cm bellow nowl Let 'em shout
for war! I'll keep my mills busy and my agent wulk-
the old rent-beat. If they can fill t! Hies
with a mess of :rudge them what they
can snatch; but I'll fill mine with food less spiced, and
we'll see which of us thrives best these sons of M
or the old patroon who stays at hmiu- and dips his nose
into nothing worse than old Madeira!"
i^ave me a cunning look, pushed his wig partly
straight, and lay back, puffing quietly at his pipe.
I hesitated, choosing my words ere I spoke; and at
first he listened contentedly, nodding approval, and
pushing fresh tobacco into his clay with a fat forefinger.
I pointed out that it was my desire to save my
from ravage, rum, and ultimate confiscation by the
tors; that for this reason he had summoned me, and
I had come to confer with him and with other branches
of our family, seeking how best this mit/ht be done.
minded him that, from his letters to me, I had
acquired a fair knowledge of the estates endangered ;
od that Sir John Johnson owned en<>r-
racts in Tryon Coun.y whirh his i^reat father,
Sir i, had left him when he died; that Col.
Claus, <iuy Johnson, the IJ father and son, and
. all held estates of greatest value ; and that
sc estates were menaced, now by Tory, now by
rebel, and the lords of these broad manors were a!
nately solicited and threatened by the warring factions
now so bloodily embroiled.
e Ormonds can comprehend your dismay, your
distress, your doubts," I said. "Our indigo grows
i<>st within gunshot of the British outpost at New
Smyrna ; ot es. our lemons, our cane, our cotton,
must *vither at a blast from the cannon of Saint Am
rebels in Georgia threaten us, the Tories at
Pensc*oola warn us, the Seminoles are gathering, the
54
SIR LUPUS
Minorcans are arming, the blacks in the Carolinas
watch us, and the British regiments at Augustine are
all itching to ravage and plunder and drive us into
the sea if we declare not for the King who pays
them."
Sir Lupus nodded, winked, and fell to slicing to-
bacco with a small, gold knife.
" We're all Quakers in these days eh, George? We
can't fight no, we really can't 1 It's wrong, George,
oh. very wrong." And he fell a-chuckling, so that
his paunch shook like a jelly.
" I think you do not understand me," I said.
He looked up quickly.
"We Ormonds are only waiting to draw sword."
" Draw sword !" he cried. " What d' ye mean?"
" I mean that, once convinced our honor demands it,
we cannot choose but draw."
"Don't be an ass!" he shouted. "Have I not told
you that there's no honor in this bloody squabble?
Lord save the lad, he's mad as Walter Butler 1"
"Sir Lupus," I said, angrily, "is a man an ass to
defend his own land?"
"He is when it's not necessary! Lie snug; nobody
is going to harm you. Lie snug, with both arms
around your own land."
"I meant my own native land, not the miserable
acres my slaves plant to feed and clothe me."
He glared, twisting his long pipe till the stem broke
short
" Well, which land do you mean to defend, England
or these colonies?" he asked, staring.
"That is what I desire to learn, sir," I said, respect-
fully. " That is why I came North. With us in Flor-
ida, all is, so far, faction and jealousy, selfish intrigue
and prejudiced dispute. The truth, the vital truth, is
obscured; the right is hidden in a petty storm where
55
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
local tyrants fill the air with dust, striving each to
blind the other."
1 leaned forward earnestly. "There must be i
and wrong in this dispute; Truth stands naked some-
where in the world. It is for us to find her. Why,
mark me, Sir Lupus, men cannot sit and blink at
villany, nor look with indifference on a struggle to the
death. One side is right, t'other wrong. And we
must learn how matters stand."
"And what will it advance us to learn how matters
stand?" he said, still staring, as though I were some
persistent fool vexing him with unleavened babble
ippose these rebels are right and, dammy, but I
think they are and suppose our King's troops are
roundly trouncing them and I think they are, too
do you mean to say you'd draw sword and go a-prowl-
ing, seeking for some obliging enemy to knock you
in the lu.id or hang you for a rebel to your neighbor's
"Something of that sort," I said, good-humoredly.
"Oh, Don Quixote once more, eh?" he sneered, too
mad to raise his voice to the more convenient bellow
which seemed to soothe him as much as it distressed
listener. " \\V11, vou've got a fool's mate in
George Covert, the insufferable dandy 1 And all you
two need is a pair o' Panzas and a brace of windmills.
Bah!" He grew angrier. "Bah, I say!" He broke
out "Damnation, sir! Go to the devil!"
I said, calmly: "Sir Lupus, I hear your observa-
with patience; I naturally receive your admoni-
tion with respect, but your bearing towards me I re-
sent. Pray, sir, remember that I am under your roof
note, but when I quit it I am free to call you to account "
hat! You'd fight i
"Scarcely, sir; but I should expect somebody to
make your words good."
56
SIR LUPUS
"Bah! Who? Ruyven? He's a lad! Dorothy is
the only one to " He broke out into a hoarse laugh.
"Oh, you Ormonds! I might have saved myself the
pains. And now you want to flesh your sword, it mat-
ters not in whom Tory, rebel, neutral folk, they're
all one to you, so that you fight! George, don't take
offence; I naturally swear at those I differ with. I
may love 'em and yet curse 'em like a sailor! Know
me better, George! Bear with me; let me swear at
you, lad! It's all I can do."
He spread out his fat hands imploringly, recrossing
his enormous legs on the card-table. "I can't fight,
George; I would gladly, but I'm too fat. Don't grudge
me a few kindly oaths now and then. It's all I can
do."
I was seized with a fit of laughter, utterly uncon-
trollable. Sir Lupus observed me peevishly, twiddling
his broken pipe, and I saw he longed to launch it at
my head, which made me laugh till his large, round,
red face grew grayer and foggier through the mirth-
mist in my eyes.
"Am I so droll?" he snapped.
"Oh yes, yes, Sir Lupus," I cried, weakly. "Don't
grudge me this laugh. It is all 1 can do."
A grim smile came over his broad face.
" Touched !" he said. " I've a fine pair on my hands
now you and Sir George Covert to plague me and
prick me with your wit, like mosquitoes round a drowsy
man. A fine family conference we shall have, with
Sir John Johnson and the Butlers shooting one way,
you and Sir George Covert firing t'other, and me be-
twixt you, singing psalms and getting all your arrows
in me, fore and aft."
"Who is Sir George Covert?" I asked.
"One o' the Calverts, Lord Baltimore's kin, a sort
of cousin of the Ormond-Butlers, a supercilious dandy,
57
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
a languid macaroni; plagues me, damn his impudence,
but I can't hate him no! Hate him? Faith, I owe
him more than any man on earth . . . and love him fr
it which is strange!"
"Has he an estate in jeopardy?" I inquired.
"Yes. He has a mansion in Albany, too, which
he leases. He bought a mile on the great Vlaie and
all alone, shooting, fishing, playing the
guitar o' moony nights, which they say sets UK wild-
cats wilder. Mark me, George, a petty mile square
and a shooting and this languid ass says he
means to fight for it. Lord lu-lp the man! I told him
I'd buy him out to save him from embroiling us all,
and what d' ye think? lie stared at me through his
lorgnons as though 1 tad been some queer, n
and, says he, 'Lud!' says h 'in-
less sport in yu Lupus, but you don
your title ri^ht/ says he. 'Change the a to an o and
add an ell for good measure, and there you h
says he, a-drawlin^. With \\hich lu minced off, dust-
ing his nose with his lace handkerchief, and I'm
damned if 1 see the joke yet in spelling patroon with
an o for the a and an ell for good measi
He paused, out of breath, to pour himself som
Jc muttered. " Where the devil is it? 1 see
no wit in that" And he picked up a fresh pipe fi
the rack on tne table and moistened the cl. his
i*t tongue.
We sat in silence for a while. That this Sir George
Covert should call the patroon a poltroon hurt me, for
was kin to us both; yet it seemed that there might be
truth in the insoKnt llmg, for selfishness and polu
ery are too often linked.
I raised my eyes and looked almost furtively at my
cousin Varick. He had no neck; the spot where his
bullet head joined his body was marked only by *
SIR LUPUS
narrow and soiled stock. His eyes alone relieved the
monotony of a stolid countenance ; all else was fat.
Sunk in my own reflections, lying back in my arm-
chair, I watched dreamily the smoke pouring from
the patroon's pipe, floating away, to hang wavering
across the room, now lifting, now curling downward,
as though drawn by a hidden current towards the un-
waxed oaken floor.
No, there was no Ormond in him ; he was all Varick,
all Dutch, all patroon.
I had never seen any man like him save once, when
a red-faced Albany merchant came a-waddling to the
sea-islands looking for cotton and indigo, and we all
despised him for the eagerness with whkh he trimmed
his shillings at the Augustine taverns. Thrift is a
word abused, and serves too often as a mask for av-
arice.
As I sat there fashioning wise saws and proverbs
in my busy mind, the hall door opened and the first
guest was announced Sir George Covert
And in he came, a well-built, lazy gentleman of forty,
swinging gracefully on a pair o' legs no man need take
shame in; ruffles on cuff and stock, hair perfumed,
powdered, and rolled twice in French puffs, and on
his hand a brilliant that sparkled purest fire. Under
one arm he bore his gold-^dged hat, and as he strolled
forward, peering coolly about him through his quizzing
glass, I thought I had never seen such graceful assur-
ance, nor such insolently handsome eyes, marred by
the faint shadows of dissipation.
Sir Lupus nodded a welcome and blew a great cloud
of smoke into the air.
"Ah/' observed Sir George, languidly, "Vesuvius
in eruption?"
" How de do/' said Sir Lupus, suspiciously.
" The mountain welcomes Mohammed," commented
59
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Sir George. " Mohammed greets the mountain I I low
de do, Sir Lupus! Ah!" He turned gracefully tow-
ards me, bowing. "Pray present me, Sir Lupi
"My cousin, George Ormond," said Sir Lupus.
"George first, George second," he added, with a sneer.
"No relation to George III., I trust, sir?" inquired
Sir George, anxiously, offering his cool, well-k
hand.
"No," said I, laughing at his serious countenance
and returning his clasp firmly.
lat's well, that's well," murmured Sir George,
apparently vastly relieved, and invited me to take
snuff with him.
We had scarcely exchanged a civil word or two
ere the servant announced Captain Walter Butler,
and I turned curiously, to see a dark, graceful youn^
man enter and stand for a moment staring haugli
straight at me. He wore a very elegant black-. u id-
orange uniform, without gorget ; a black military cloak
hung from his shoulders, caught uj sword knot.
With a quick movement he raised his hand and re-
moved his officer's hat, and I saw on his ^.-untlei
fine doeskin the Ormond arms, heavily embroidered.
Instantly the affectation displeased
"Come to the r i, brother prophet," said Sir
George, waving his hand towards the seated patroon.
He came, lightly as a panther, k, well-cut feat-
ures softening a trifle; and I thought him handsome
in his uniform, wearing his own dark hair unpow-
dered, tied in a short queue; but when he turned full
face to greet Sir George Covert, I was astonished to see
the cruelty in his almost perfect features, which were
smooth as a woman's, and lighted by a pair of clear,
dark-golden e^es.
Ah, those wonderful eyes of Walter Butler ever-
changing eyes, now almost black, glimmeriTi
60
SIR LUPUS
ardent fire, now veiled and amber, now suddenly a
shallow yellow, round, staring, blank as the eyes of a
caged eagle; and, still again, piercing, glittering, nar-
rowing to a slit Terrible mad eyes, that I have never
forgotten never, never can forget.
As Sir Lupus named me, Walter Butler dropped Sir
George's hand and grasped mine, too eagerly to please
me.
"Ormond and Ormond-Butler need no friends to rec-
ommend them each to the other/' he said, and straight-
way fell a-talking of the greatness of the Arrans and
the Ormonds, and of that duke who, attainted, fled to
France to save his neck.
I strove to be civil, yet he embarrassed me before
the others, babbling of petty matters interesting only
to those whose taste invites them to go burrowing in
parish records and ill-smelling volumes written by
some toad-eater to his patron.
For me, I am an Ormond, and I know tha{ it would
be shameful if I turned rascal and besmirched my
name. As to the rest the dukes, the glory, the great-
ness I hold it concerns nobody bnt the dead, and it is
a foolishness to plague folks' ears by boasting of deeds
done by those you never knew, like a Seminole chant-
ing ere he strikes the painted post
Also, this Captain Walter Butler was overlarding
his phrases with "Cousin Ormond/' so that I was
soon cloyed, and nigh ready to damn the relationship
to his face.
Sir Lupus, who had managed to rise by this time,
waddled off into the drawing-room across the hallway,
motioning us to follow; and barely in time, too, for
there came, shortly, Sir John Johnson with a company
of ladies and gentlemen, very gay in their damasks,
brocades, and velvets, which the folds of their foot
mantles, capuchins, and cardinals revealed.
61
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
The gentlemen had come a-horseback, and all \\<>rc
very elegant uniforms under their sober cloaks, \vhkh
were linked with gold chains at liic throat; the ladies,
prettily powdered and patched, appeared a trifle <>
colored, and their necks and shoulders, innocent of
buffonts, gleamed pearl-tinted above their gay bn
knots. And they made a sparkling bevy as t
fluttered up the staircase to their cloak-room, \\hile
ntered the drawing-room, followed by the
other gentlemen, and stood in careless conversation
with the patroon, while old Cato disembarrassed him
of cloak and hat
Sir John Johnson, son of the great Sir \Yilliam, as
[ first saw him was a man of less than middle age,
flabby, cold-eyed, heavy of foot and hand. On his
light-colored hair he wore no powder; the rather long
queue was tied with a green hair-ribbon; the thick,
whitish folds of his double chin rested on a but!
stock.
For the rest, he wore a green-and-gold uniform of
very elegant cut green being the garb of his region
the Royal Greens, as I learned afterwards and his
buff-topped boots and his metals were brilliant and
plainly new.
When the patroon named me to him he turned his
lack-lustre eyes on me and offered me a large, d;
hand.
In tuni I was made acquainted with the several
officers in his suite Colonel John Butler, father of
Captain Walter Butler, broad and squat, a withered
prophecy of what the son might one day be; Col'
iel Claus, a rather merry and battered Indian
fighter; Colonel Guy Johnson, of Guy Park, dark
Captain Campbell, and a Captain McDon-
ald of Perth.
All wore the green uniform save the Butlers; all
62
SIR LUPUS
greeted me with particular civility and conducted like
the respectable company they appeared to be, politely
engaging me in pleasant conversation, desiring news
from Florida, or complimenting me upon my courtesy,
which, they vowed, had alone induced me to travel a
thousand miles for the sake of permitting my kins-
men the pleasure of welcoming me.
One by one the gentlemen retired to exchange their
spurred top-boots for white silk stockings and silken
pumps, and to arrange their hair or stick a patch here
and there, and rinse their hands in rose-water to cleanse
them of the bridle's odor.
They were still thronging the gun-room, and I stood
alone in the drawing-room with Sir George Covert,
when a lady entered and courtesied low as we bowed
together.
And truly she was a beauty, with her skin of rose-
ivory, her powdered hair a-gleam with brilliants, her
eyes of purest violet, a friendly smile hovering on her
fresh, scarlet mouth.
"Well, sir," she said, "do you not know me?" And
to Sir George : " I vow, he takes me for a guest in my
own house!"
And then I knew my cousin Dorothy Varick.
She suffered us to salute her hand, gazing the while
about her indifferently; and, as I released her slender
fingers and raised my head, she, rounded arm still
extended as though forgotten, snapped he" thumb
and forefinger together in vexation with a "Plague
on it! There's that odious Sir John!"
" Is Sir John Johnson so offensive to your ladyship?"
inquired Sir George, lazily.
"Offensive! Have you not heard how the beast
drank wine from my slipper! Never mind! I can-
not endure him. Sir George, you must sit by me at
table and you, too, Cousin Ormond, or he'll come
63
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
bothering." She glanced at the open door of the gun-
room, a frown on her white brow. "Oh, they're all
here, I see. Sparks will fly ere sun-up. There's
Campbell, and McDonald, too, wi' the meraor}' of Glen-
coe still stewing betwixt them ; and there's Guy John-
son, with a price on his head and ]>li-my to sell it for
him in County Tryon, gentlemen! And there's youni;
Walter Butler, cursing poor Cato that he touched his
spur in drawing off his boots if he strikes Cato I'll
strike him ! And where are their fine ladies, Sir G cor
Still primping at the mirror? Oh, la!" She stepped
back, laughing, raising her lovely arms a little. " Look
at me. A in I well laced, with nobody to aid me save
Cecile, poor child, and Benny to hold the candles he
being young enough for the office?' 9
"Happy, happy Benny I" murmured Sir George,
inspecting her through his quizzing-glass from head
toe.
"If you think it a happy office you may fill it your-
self in future, Sir George/' she said. " I never knew
an ass who failed to bray in ecstasy at mention of a
pair o' stays."
Sir George stared, and said, "Aha! clever very,
very clever 1" in so patronizing a tone that Dorothy
reddened and bit her lip in vexation.
" That is ever your way/' she said, " when I parry
you to -our confusion* Take your eyes from me, Sir
Georgr Cousin Onnond, am I dressed to your taste
or not?"
She stood there in her gown of brocade, beautifully
flowered in peach color, dainty, confident, challenging
me to note one fault Nor could I, from the gold hair-
pegs in her hair to the tip of her slim, pompadour shoes
peeping from the lace of her petticoat, which she lifted
a trifle to show her silken, flowered hose.
And "There!" she cried, " I gowned myself, and I
64
SIR LUPUS
wear no paint I wish you would tell them as much
when they laugh at me."
Now came the ladies, rustling down the stairway,
and the gentlemen, strolling in from their toilet and
stirrup-cups in the gun-room, and I noted that all wore
service-swords, and laid their pistols on the table in
the drawing-room.
"Do they fear a surprise?" I whispered to Sir George
Covert
"Oh yes; Jack Mount and the Stoners are abroad.
But Sir John has a troop of his cut-throat horsemen
picketed out around us. You see, Sir John broke his
parole, and Walter Butler is attainted, and it might
go hard with some of these gentlemen if General Schuy-
ler's dragoons caught them here, plotting nose to nose."
"Who is this Jack Mount?" I asked, curiously, re-
membering my companion of the Albany road.
"One of Cresap's riflemen," he drawled, "sent back
here from Boston to raise the country against the in-
vasion. They say he was a highwayman once, but
we Tories" he laughed shamelessly "say many
things in these days which may not help us at the
judgment day. Wait, there's that little rosebud, Claire
Putnam, Sir John's flame. Take her in tc table; she's
a pretty little plaything. Lady Johnson, who was
Polly Watts, is in Montreal, you see." He made a
languid gesture with outspread hands, smiling.
The girl he indicated Mistress Claire Putnam, was a
fragile, willowy creature, over-thin, perhaps, yet won-
derfully attractive and pretty, and there was much of
good in her face, and a tinge of pathos, too, for all
her bright vivacity.
" If Sir John Johnson put her away when he wedded
Miss Watts," said Sir George, coolly, "I think he did
it from interest and selfish calculation, not because
he ceased to love her in his bloodless, fishy fashion.
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
And now that Lady Johnson has fled to Canada, Sii
John makes no pretence of hiding his amours in the
society which he haunts; nor does that society take
umbrage at the no tionship so impudently
renewed. We're a shameless lot, Mr. Onnoiul."
At that moment I heard Sir John Johnson, at my
elbow, saying to Sir Lupus: " Do you know what these
damned lebels have had the impudence to do? I can
scarce credit it myself, but it is said that their Congress
has adopted a flag of thirteen tripes and thirteen stars
on a blue field, and I'm cursed if I don't believe they
mean to hoist the filthy rag in our TCTJ faces!"
V
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
UNDER a flare of yellow candle-light we entered
the dining -hall and seated ourselves before a
table loaded with flowers and silver, and the most
beautiful Flemish glass that I have ever seen ; though
they say that Sir William Johnson's was finer.
The square windows of the hall were closed, the
dusty curtains closely drawn; the uir, though fresh,
was heavily saturated with perfume. Between each
window, and higher up, small, square loop-holes pierced
the solid walls. The wooden flap-hoods of these were
open; through them poured the fresh night air, stirring
the clustered flowers and the jewelled aigrets in the
ladies' hair.
The spectacle was pretty, even beautiful; at every
lady's cover lay a gift from the patroon, a crystal bosom-
glass, mounted in silver filigree, filled with roses in
scented water; and, at the sight, a gust of hand-clap-
ping swept around the table, like the rattle of Decem-
ber winds through dry palmettos.
In a distant corner, slaves, dressed fancifully and
turbaned like Barbary blackamoors, played on fiddles
and guitars, and the music was such as I should have
enjoyed, loving all melody as I do, yet could scarcely
hear it in the flutter and chatter rising around me as
the ladies placed the bosom-bottles in their stomachers
and opened their Marlborough fans to set them wav*
ing all like restless wings.
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Yet, under this surface elegance and display, one
could scarcely choose but note Imw everywhere an
amazing shiftlessness reigned in the patroon's house.
Cobwebs canopied the ceiling-beams with tl
ragged banners afloat in the candle's heat; dust, like
a velvet mantle, lay over the Dutch plates and teapots,
ranged on shelves against the panelled wall midway
ig and un waxed floor; the gaudy yellow
ries of the black servants were soiled and tarnished
and ill ' nd all wore slovenly rolls, tied to imitate
scratch !ie effect of which was amazing. The
passion for cleanliness in the Dutch lies not in their
men folk; a Dutch mistress of this manor house had
died o' shame long since or died o' scrubbing.
I felt mean and ungracious to sit there spying at my
host's table, and strove to forget it, yet was forced to
wipe furtively spoon and fork upon the napkin on
knees ere I durst acquaint them with my mouth; and
so did others, as I saw ; but they did it openly and with-
out pretence of concealment, and nobody took offence.
Sir Lupus cared nothing for precedence at table, and
said so when he seated us, which brought a sneer to
Sir John Johnson's mouth and a scowl to Walter But-
ler's brow : but this provincial boorishness appeared to
be forgotten ere the decanters had slopped the cloth
e, and fair faces flushed, and voices grew gayer,
and the rattle of silver assaulting china and ! low
ring of glasses swelled into a steady, melodious dm
which stirred the blood to my cheeks.
We Orraonds love gayety I choose the mildest
phrase I know. Yet, take us at our worst, Irish that
we are, and if there be a taint of license to our revels,
and if we drink tin- toast to the devil's own un-
doine, the vital spring of our people remains unpollu
'a strength and purity unsoiled, guarded
forever by the chastity of our women.
68
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON $ S
Savoring my claret, I glanced askance at ray neigh-
bors ; on ray left sat ray cousin Dorothy Varick, frankly
absorbed in a roasted pigeon, yet wielding knife and
fork with much grace and address ; on my right Mag
dalen Brant, step -cousin to Sir John, a lovely, soft-
voiced girl, with velvety eyes and the faintest dusky
tint, which showed the Indian blood through the car-
mine in her fresh, curved cheeks.
I started to speak to her, but there came a call from
the end of the table, and we raised our glasses to Sir
Lupus, for which civility he expressed his thanks and
gave us the ladies, which we drank standing, and re-
versed our glasses with a cheer.
Then Walter Butler gave us "The Ormonds and the
Earls of Arran," an amazing vanity, which shamed
me so that I sat biting my lip, furious to see Sir John
wink at Colonel Claus, and itching to fling my glass
at the head of this young fool whose brain seemed
cracked with brooding on his pedigree.
Meat was served ere I was called on, but later, a de-
licious Burgundy being decanted, all called me with a
persistent clamor, so that I was obliged to ask per-
mission of Sir Lupus, then rise, still tingling with the
memory of the silly toast offered by Walter Butler.
"I give you," I said, "a republic where self-respect
balances the coronet, where there is no monarch, no
high-priest, but only a clean altar, served by the par-
liament of a united people. Gentlemen, raise your
glasses to the colonies of America and their ancient
liberties!"
And, amazed at what I had said, and knowing that
I had not meant to say it, I lifted my glass and drained
it.
Astonishment altered every face. Walter Butler
mechanically raised his glass, then set it down, then
raised it once more, gazing blankly at me; and I
69
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
others hesitate, as though striving to recollect the ex-
act terms of my toast. But, after a second'.- <>n,
all drank sitting. Then each looked inquiringly at
me, at neighbors, puzzU Iready partly reassured.
"Gad!" said Colonel Claus, bluntlv, "I thought
at first that Burgundy smacked somewhat of Bo-
tea."
"The Burgundy's sound enough," said Colonel
John Butler, grimly.
"So is the toast." bawled Sir Lnpu s a pa-
cific toast, a soothing sentiment, neither one thing
not t'other. Dammy, it's a toast no Quaker need re-
r Lupus, your permission!" broke out Captain
Campbell, "'lontlemen, it is strange that not <
of his Majesty's officers has proposed tin ! 1 U
looked straight at me and said, without turning his
head: "All loyal at this table will fill. Indies, gen-
tlemen, I give you his Majesty the King!"
The toast was finished amid cheers. I drained mv
ss and turned it down with a bow to Captain Camp-
, who bowed to me as though greatly relieved.
fiddles, bassoons, and guitars were playing and
the slaves singing when the n<> iic cheering died
away; and I heard Dorothy beside me humming the
1 tapping the floor with her silken shoe, while
she moistened macaroons in a glass of Madeira and
>led them with serene satisfaction.
"You appear to be happy, i whispered.
" Perfectly. I adore sweets. Will you try a dish
ut cinnamon cake? Sop it in Burgundy; they har-
monize to a most heavenly taste. . . . Look at M.
dalen Brant, is she not sweet? Her cousin is Molly
Brant, old Sir William's sweetheart, fled to Canada.
. . . She follows this week with Betty Austin, th.a
black-eyed little mischief-maker on Sir John's right,
70
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
who owes her diamonds to Guy Johnson. La! What
a gossip I grow! But it's county talk, and all know it,
and nobody cares save the Albany blue-noses and the
Van Cortlandts, who fall backward with standing too
straight"
"Dorothy," I said, sharply, "a blunted innocence is
better than none, but it's a pity you know so much!"
"How can I help it?" she asked, calmly, dipping
another macaroon into her glass.
" It's a pity, all the same," I said.
"Dew on a duck's back, my friend," she observed,
serenely. "Cousin, if I were fashioned for evil I had
been tainted long since."
She sat up straight and swept the table with a
heavy-lidded, insolent glance, eyebrows raised. The
cold purity of her profile, the undimmed innocence,
the childish beauty of the curved cheek, touched me
to the quick. Ah! the white flower to flourish here
amid unconcealed corruption, with petals stainless,
with bloom undimmed, with all its exquisite fragrance
still fresh and wholesome in an air heavy with wine
and the odor of dying roses.
I looked around me. Guy Johnson, red in the face,
was bending too closely beside his neighbor, Betty
Austin. Colonel Claus talked loudly across the table
to Captain McDonald, and swore fashionable oaths
which the gaunt captain echoed obsequiously. Claire
Putnam coquetted with her paddle-stick fan, defend-
ing her roses from Sir George Covert, while Sir John
Johnson stared at them in cold disapproval; and I
saw Magdalen Brant, chin propped on her clasped
hands, close her eyes and breathe deeply while the
wine burned her face, setting torches aflame in either
cheek. Later, when I spoke to her, she laughed piti-
fully, saying that her ears hummed like bee-hives.
Then she said that she meant to go, but made no move-
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
ment; and presently her dark eyes closed again, and I
saw the fever pulse beating in her neck.
Some one had overturned a silver basin full of flow-
ers, and a servant, sopping up the water, had brushed
Walter Butler so that he flew into a passion and fluiiLT
a glass at the unified black, which set Sir Lupus
laughing till he choked, but which enraged me that
he should so conduct in the presence of his host's
daughter.
Yet if Sir Lupus could not <>nl\ overlook it, but
laugh at it, I, certes, had no right to rebuke what to
me seemed a gross insult.
Toasts flew fast now, and there was a punch
silver bowl as large as a bushel and spirits, too, \\ 1m h
was strange, seeing that the ladies remained at ta
Thai Captain Campbell would have all to dunk
tlu Royal Greens, standing on chairs, one foot on the
table, which appeared to be his ri ess cus-
, and we did so, the ladies laughing and protest-
hut finally planting their dainty shoes on the edge
table; and Magdalen Brant ni h tVll if In r
chair for lack of balance, as Sir Geoi
tested, one foot alone being too small to sustain in r
iderella complum-nt at our expense!" cried
Betty Austin, but Sir Lupus cried ice all, and
keep one foot on the table!" And a little black slave
lad, scarce ian a babe, appeared, dressed in a
\-skin, bearing a basket of pretty boxes woven out
of scented grass and embroidered with silk (!...
At every corner he laid a box, all exclaiming and
wondering what the surprise might be, until tlu little
black, arching his back, i I yowl like a lynx
and ran out on all fours.
ie gentlemen will open the boxes! Ladies, keep
one foot on the table!" bawled Sir Lupus. We bent
to open the boxes; Magdalen Brant and Dorothy Var-
72
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
ick, each resting a hand on my shoulder to steady
them, peeped curiously down to see. And, " Oh 1" cried
everybody, as the lifted box-lids discovered snow-white
pigeons sitting on great gilt eggs.
The white pigeons fluttered out, some to the table,
where they craned their necks and ruffled their snowy
plumes ; others flapped up to the loop-holes, where they
sat and watched us.
"Break the eggs!" cried the patroon.
I broke mine; inside was a pair of shoe-roses, each
Bet with a pearl and clasped with a gold pin.
Betty Austin clapped her hands in delight ; Dorothy
bent double, tore off the silken roses from each shoe in
turn, and I pinned on the new jewelled roses amid a
gale of laughter.
"A health to the patroon!" cried Sir George Covert,
and we gave it with a will, glasses down. Then all
settled to our seats once more to hear Sir George sing
a song.
A slave passed him a guitar ; he touched the
strings and sang with good taste a song in question-
able taste :
"Jeanneton prend sa fauyille."
A delicate melody and neatly done; yet the verse
"Le deuxieme plus habile
L'embrassant sous le mentpn"
made me redden, and the envoi nigh burned me alive
with blushes, yet was rapturously applauded, and the
patroon fell a-choking with his gross laughter.
Then Walter Butler would sing, and, I confess, did
it well, though the song was sad and the words too
/nelancholy to please.
"I know a rebel song," cried Colonel Claus. "Here,,
73
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
give me that fiddle and I'll fiddle it, daiiuny if I don't
ay, and sing it, too!"
In a shower of gibes and laughter the fiddle \\.is
fetched, and the Indian fighter seized the bow and drew
a most distressful strain, singing in a whining voice:
" Come hearken to a bloody tale.
Of how the soldiery
Did murder men in Boston.
As you full soon shall see.
It came to pass on March the fifth
Of seventeen^ r
A regiment, the twenty ninth.
i'rovi.krtl a .sad affray !"
"Chorus!" shouted Captain Campbell, beating tiim :
" FoKde-roWe-rol-de-ray^
Provoked a sad affray!"
"That's not in the song!" protested Colonel Claus,
but everybody sanu it in whining tones.
"Continue!" cried Captain Campbell, amid a burst
of laughter. And Claus gravely d fiddle-bow
across the strings and sang:
- In Kins Street, by the Butcher's Hal
The soldiers on us fell,
Likewise before their barracks
(It I.H the truth I tell),
And such a dreadful carnage
In Boston ne'er was known;
They killed Samuel Maverick
gave a piteous groan/'
And, "Fol-dcM-ol!" roared Captain Campbell, "He
gave a piteous groa
" John Dark he was wounded.
On him they did fire;
James Caldwell and Crispus Attacks
Lay bleeding in the mire;
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
Their regiment, the twenty-ninth.
Killed Monk and Sam I Gray.
While Patrick Carr lay cold in death
And could not flee away -
"Oh, tally!" broke out Sir John; u are we to listen
to such stuff all night?"
More laughter ; and Sir George Covert said that he
feared Sir John Johnson had no sense of humor.
"I have heard that before/' said Sir John, turning
his cold eyes on Sir George. "But if we've got to
sing at wine, in Heaven's name let us sing something
sensible."
"No, no!" bawled Claus. "This is the abode of
folly to-night!" And he sang a catch from "Pills to
Purge Melancholy/' as broad a verse as I cared to
hear in such company.
"Cheer up, Sir John!" cried Betty Austin; "there
are other slippers to drink from "
Sir John stood up, exasperated, but could not face
the storm of laughter, nor could Dorothy, silent and
white in her anger ; and she rose to go, but seemed to
think better of it and resumed her seat, disdainful eyes
sweeping the table.
"Face the fools," I whispered. "Your confusion
is their victory."
Captain McDonald, stirring the punch, filled all
glasses, crying out that we should drink to our
sweethearts in bumpers.
"Drink 'em in wine," protested Captain Campbell,
thickly. "Who but a feckless McDonald wud drink
his leddy in poonch?"
"I said poonch!" retorted McDonald, sternly. "If
ye wish wine, drink it; but I'm thinkin' the Argyle
Campbells are better judges o' blood than of red wine."
"Stop that clan-feud!" bawled the patroon, angrily.
But the old clan-feud blazed up, kindled from the
75
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
ever -smouldering embers of Glencoe, which the mas-
sacre of a whole clan had not extingui.^ .ill these
years
" And why should an Argyle Campbell judge blood?"
cried Captain Campbell, in a menacing voice,
" And why not?" retorted McDonald. " Breadalbane
spilled enough to teach ye,"
"Teach who?"
" Teach you 1 and the whole breed o' black Camp,
bells from Perth to Galway and Fonda's Bush, \\\.
ye dub Broadalbin. I had rather be a Monteith and
have the betrayal of Wallace cast in my face than be
a Campbell of Argyle wi' the memory o' Glencoe to
>w me to hell"
"Silence I" roared the patroon, struggling to his
feet. Sir George Covert caught at Captain Cainpb*
sleeve as he rose; Sir John Johnson stood up, 1
with anger.
" Let this end nowl" he said, sternly. "Do oil
of the Royal Greens conduct like yokels at a fair?
>, Captain Campbell! And you, Capt
McDonald! Take your seat, sir; and if I hear th.a
cursed word 'Glencoe' again, the first who utters it
faces a court-martial 1"
Partly sobered, the Campbell glared mutely at the
McDonald; the latter also appeared to have recov-
ered a portion of his senses and resumed his seat
in silence, glowering at the empty glasses before
him.
"Now be sensible, gentlemen/' said Colonel Clans,
with a jovial nod to the patroon; "let pass, let pass.
This is no time to raise the fiery cross in the hills. Gad,
there's a new pibroch to inarch to these days
"Pibroch o' HirokAuel
Pibroch o' HirokaueP
70
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
ne hummed, deliberately, but nobody laughed, and the
grave, pale faces of the women turned questioningly
one to the other.
Enemies or allies, there was terror in the name of
"Iroquois/' But Walter Butler looked up from his
gloomy meditation and raised his glass with a ghastly
laugh.
" I drink to our red allies/' he said, slowly drained
his glass till but a color remained in it, then dipped
his finger in the dregs and drew upon the white table-
cloth a blood-red cross.
"There's your clan-sign, you Campbells, you Mc-
Donalds/' he said, with a terrifying smile which none
could misinterpret.
Then Sir George Covert said : " Sir William Johnson
knew best. Had he lived, there had been no talk of
the Iroquois as allies or as enemies."
I said, looking straight at Walter Butler: "Can there
be any serious talk of turning these wild beasts loose
against the settlers of Tryon County?"
" Against rebels," observed Sir John Johnson, cold-
ly. "No loyal man need fear our Mohawks/'
A dead silence followed. Servants, clearing the
round table of silver, flowers, cloth all, save glasses
and decanters stepped noiselessly, and I knew the
terror of the Iroquois name had sharpened their dull
ears. Then came old Cato, tricked out in flame-col-
ored plush, bearing the staff of major-domo; and the
servants in their tarnished liveries marshalled behind
him and filed out, leaving us seated before a bare table,
\\ith only our glasses and bottles to break the expanse
of polished mahogany and soiled cloth.
Captain McDonald rose, lifted the steaming kettle
from the hob, and set it on a great, blue tile, and the
gentlemen mixed their spirits thoughtfully, or lighted
long, clay pipes.
77
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
The patroon, wreathed in smoke, lay back in his
great chair and rattled his toddy-stick for attention
an unnecessary noise, for all were watching him, and
even Walter Butler's gloomy gaze constantly reverted
to that gross, red face, almost buried in thick tobacco-
smoke, like the head of some intemperate and gro-
tesquely swollen Jupiter crowned with clouds.
The plea of the patroon for neutrality in the war
now sweeping towards the Mohawk Valley I had heard
before. So, doubtless, had those present.
He waxed pathetic over the danger to st es-
tate; he pointed out the conservative attitude of the
great patroons and lords of the manors of Livi
Cosby, Phillipse, Van Rensselaer, and Van Cortlandt
"What about Schm b I asked.
"Schuyler's a fool!" he retorted, angrily. "
landed proprietor here can become a rebel general in
exchange for his estate! A fine bargain! A thrift v
dicker! Let Philip Schuyler enjoy his brief reign in
Albany. What's the market value of the glory he
exchanged for his broad acres? Can you appraise
it. Si
Then Sir John Johnson arose, and, for the only mo-
ment in his career, he stood upon a principle a falla-
cious one, but still a principle ; and for that I respected
him, and have never <i t, even throi
the terrible years when he razed and burned and mur-
dered among a people who can never forget the red
atrocities of his devastations.
Glancing slowly around the table, with his pale,
cold eyes contracting in the candl .-, he spoke
in a voice absolutely passionless, yet which carried the
conviction to all that what he uttered was hopele:
final :
" Sir Lupus complains that he hazards all, should he
cast his fortunes with his Kmi:. Vet I have done that
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
thing. I am to-day a man with a price set on my head
by these rebels of my own country. My lands, if not
already confiscated by rebel commissioners, are occu-
pied by rebels; my manor-houses, my forts, my mills,
my tenants' farms are held by the rebels and my rev-
enues denied me. I was confined on parole within
the limits of Johnson Hall. They say I broke my
parole, but they lie. It was only when I had certain
news that the Boston rebels were coming to seize my
person and violate a sacred convention that I retired
to Canada."
He paused. The explanation was not enough to
satisfy ine, and I expected him to justify the arming
of Johnson Hall and his discovered intrigues with the
Mohawks which set the rebels on the march to seize
his person. He gave none, resuming quietly :
"I have hazarded a vast estate, vaster than yours,
Sir Lupus, greater than the estates of all these gen-
tlemen combined. I do it because I owe obedience to
the King who has honored me, and for no other reason
on earth. Yet I do it in fullest confidence and belief
that my lands will be restored to me when this rebel-
lion is stamped wn and trodden out to the last miser-
able spark."
He hesitated, wiped his thin mouth with his laced
handkerchief, and turned directly towards the patroon.
"You ask me to remain neutral. You promise me
that, even at this late hour, my surrender and oath
of neutrality will restore me my estates and guaran-
tee me a peaceful, industrious life betwixt two tem-
pests. It may be so, Sir Lupus. I think it would be
so. But, my friend, to fail my King when he has need
of me is a villany I am incapable of. The fortunes of
his Majesty are my fortunes; I stand or fall with him.
This is my duty as I see it. And, gentlemen, I shall
follow it while life endures."
79
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
He resumed his seat amid absoluu
ently the patroon raised his eyes and looked at C"l-
1 Jolin Butler.
"May we hear from you, sir?" he asked, gravely.
"I trust that all may, one day, hear from. Butler's
Rangers," he said.
"And I swear they shall," broke in Walter Bi
his dark eyes burning like golden coals.
"I think the Royal Greens may make some little
c in the world," said Captain Campbell, with an
oatk
Guy Johnson waved his thin, brown hand towards
the patroon: "I hold my King's commission as m-
tendant of Indian affairs for North America. Tfct
enough for me. Though they rob me of Guy Park and
every acre, I shall redeem my lands in a manner no
man can ever forget I"
added Colonel Claus, in his bluff
way, "you all make great nurit <>f risking property
and lift in tins wretched teapot tempest; you all take
credit for unchaining the Mohawks. But you give
them no credit. What have the Iroquois to gain by
aiding us? Why do they dig up the hatchet, hazard-
ing the only thing they have their lives? Because
they are led by a man who told the rebel Congress
that the covenant chain whu h the King gave to the
Mohawks is still unspotted by dishonor, un rusted by
treachery, unbroken, intact, without one link missing I
Gentlemen, I give ycu Joseph Brant, war-chief of the
Mohawk nation 1 Hiro 1 "
All filled and drank save three Sir George Covert,
Dorothy Varick, and myself.
I felt Walter Butler's glowing eyes upon me, and
they seemed to burn out the last vestige of my patience.
"Don't rise! Don't speak nowl" whispered Doro-
thy, her hand closing on my arm.
So
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
"I must speak/' I said, aloud, and all heard me and
turned on me their fevered eyes.
"Speak out, in God's name!" said Sir George Co-
vert, and I rose, repeating, "In God's name, then!"
"Give no offence to Walter Butler, I beg of you,"
whispered Dorothy.
I scarcely heard her; through the candle-light I
saw the ring of eyes shining, all watching me.
"I applaud the loyal sentiments expressed by Sir
John Johnson," I said, slowly. "Devotion to prin-
ciple is respected by all men of honor. They tell me
that our King has taxed a commonwealth against its
will. You admit his Majesty's right to do so. That
ranges you on one side. Gentlemen," I said, deliber-
ately, "I deny the right of Englishmen to take away
the liberties of Englishmen. That ranges me on the
other side."
A profound silence ensued. The ring of eyes glowed.
" And now," said I, gravely, " that we stand arrayed,
each on his proper side, honestly, loyally differing
one from the other, let us, if we can, strive to avert a
last resort to arms. And if we cannot, let us draw
honorably, and trust to God and a stainless blade!"
I bent my eyes on Walter Butler; he met them with
a vacant glare.
"Captain Butler," I said, "if our swords be to-day
stainless, he who first dares employ a savage to do his
work forfeits the right to bear the arms and title of a
soldier."
"Mr. Ormond! Mr. Onnond!" broke in Colonel
Claus. "Do you impeach Lord George Germaine?"
"I care not whom I impeach!" I said, hotly. "If
Lord George Germaine counsels the employment of
Indians against Englishmen, rebels though they be,
he is a monstrous villain and a fool!"
"Fool!" shouted Colonel Campbell, choking with
81
THi: MAID-AT-ARMS
e. "He'd be a f<*>l t<> let these rebels win over the
In*| fore we <'.
"What rebel has sought to employ the Indians ;t [
(1. "If any in authority have dreamed of such a
nor, they are guilty as though already judged and
damned!"
"Mr. Ormond," cut in < iuy Johnson, fairly trembling
with fury, "you deal \ rlv in damnation. Do
you perhaps assume the divine riirht which you deny
rig?"
" And do you find merit in crass treason burst
out McDonald, striking the table with clinched 1
cut in Sir .Mm Johnson, "was the un-
doing of a certain noble duke in Queen Anne's tin
i are in error," I said, calmly.
"Was James, Duke of Onnnd. not impeached by
Stanhope in open Parliament?" shouted Captain
McDonald.
louse of Commons," I replied, calmly, "dis-
honored itself and its traditions by bringing a bill of
attainder against the Duke of Ormond. That could
not make bun a traitor."
lie was not a traitor," broke out Walter Butler,
v.hite to the lips, "but you a:
1 said.
With the awful hue of death stamped on his 1
Iter Butler rose and faced me; and though they
dragged us to our seats, shouting and exclaiming
the uproar made by falling chairs and the rush <>f feet,
he still kept his eyes on me, shallow, yellow, depthless,
terrible eyes.
"A nice scene to pass in women's presence 1 " roared
the patroon. "Dammy, Captain Butler, the fault lies
first with you! Withdraw that word 'traitor/ which
touches us all!"
" He has so named himself," said Walter Butler.
82
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
"Withdraw ill You foul your own nest, sir!"
A moment passed. "I withdraw it/' motioned But-
ler, with parched lips.
"Then I withdraw the lie," I said, watching him.
"That is well/' roared the patroon. ''That is
as it should be. Shall kinsmen quarrel at such a
time? Offer your hand, Captain Butler. Offer yours,
George."
"No," I said, and gazed mildly at the patroon.
Sir George Covert rose and sauntered over to my
chair. Under cover of the hubbub, not yet subsided,
he said: "I fancy you will shortly require a discreet
friend."
" Not at all, sir," I replied, aloud. " If the war spares
Mr. Butler and myself, then I shall call on you. I've
another quarrel first." All turned to look at me, and
I added, "A quarrel touching the liberties of English-
men." Sir John Johnson sneered, and it was hard to
s\v;ill<>\v, beinir the s word-master that I am.
But the patroon broke out furiously. " Mr. Ormond
honors himself. If any here so much as looks the
word 'coward/ he will answer to me old and fat as I
am! I've no previous engagement; I care not who
prevails, King or Congress. I care nothing so they
leave me my own! I'm free to resent a word, a look,
a breath ay, the flutter of a lid, Sir John!"
"Thanks, uncle," I said, touched to the quick.
" These gentlemen are not fools, and only a fool could
dream an Ormond coward."
"Ay, a fool!" cried Walter Butler, "I am an Or-
mond! There is no cowardice in the blood. He shall
have his own time; he is an Ormond!"
Dorothy Varick raised her bare, white arm and
pointed straight at Walter Butler. "See that your
sword remains unspotted, sir," she said, in a clear
voice. " For if you hire the Iroquois to do your work
8.3
Till: MAID-AT-ARM
you stand dishonored, and no true man will meet you
on the field you forfeit 1"
1 What's that?" cried Sir John, astonished, and Sir
George Covert cried :
"Braval Bravissiraa! There speaks the Ormond
through the Varick!"
Walter Butler leaned forward, staring at me. " You
refuse to meet me if I use our Mohawk
And Dorothy, her voice trembling a little, picked up
the word from his grinning teeth. "Mohawks in
stand the word 'honor' better than do you, Captain
Butler, if you are found fighting in their ranks!"
She laid her hand on my arm, still facing him
"My cousin shall not cross blade with a soiled
blade! He dare not if only for my own poor honor's
sake!"
llun Colonel Claus rose, thumping violently on
table, and, " Here's a pretty rumpus I" he bawled,
"\\ith all right and all wrong, and nobody to snuff
out the spreading Same, but every one a-flinging tal-
low in a fire we all may rue! My Godl Are we n-a
all kinsmen here, gathered to decent council how best
to save our bai m.s pot a-boiling over? If Mr.
Ormond and Captain Butler must tickle sword-points
one day, that is no cause for dolorous looks or hot
(Is no! Rather is it a family trick, a good, old-
fashioned game that all boys play, and no harm, cither.
Have I not played it, too? Has any gentleman pres-
ent not pinked or been pinked on that debatable land
we call the field of honor? Come, kinsmen, we have
all had too much wine or too little."
"Too little!" protested Captain Campbell, with a
forced laugh; and Betty Austin loosed her tongue for
the first time to cry out that her mouth was parched
wi' swallowing so many words all piping-hot. Whereat
or two laughed, and Colonel John Butler said .
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
Neither Mr. Ormond nor Sir George Covert are
rebels. They differ from us in this matter touching
on the Iroquois. If they think we soil our hands with
war-paint, let them keep their own wristbands clean,
but fight for their King as sturdily as shall we this time
next month."
"That is a very pleasant view to take," observed
Sir George, with a smile.
" A sensible view," suggested CampbelL
"Amiable," said Sir George, blandly.
"Oh, let us fill to the family 1" broke in McDonald,
impatiently. "It's dry work cursing your friends 1
Fill up, Campbell, and I'll forget Glencoe . . . while I'm
drinking."
"Mr. Ormond," said Walter Butler, in a low voice,
" I cannot credit ill of a man of your name. You are
young and hot - blooded, and you perhaps lack as yet
a capacity for reflection. I shall look for you among
us when the time comes. No Ormond can desert his
King."
"Let it rest so, Captain Butler," I said, soberly. "I
will say this: when I rose I had not meant to say all
that I said. But I believe it to be the truth, though I
chose the wrong moment to express it If I change
this belief I will say so."
And so the outburst of passion sank to ashes ; and
if the fire was not wholly extinguished, it at least lay
covered, like the heart of a Seminole council-fire after
the sachems have risen and departed with covered
heads.
Drinking began again. The ladies gathered in a
group, whispering and laughing their relief at the
turn affairs were taking all save Dorothy, who sat
serenely beside me, picking the kernels from walnut-
shells and sipping a glass of port.
Sir John Johnson found a coal in the embers on the
8s
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
hearth, and, leaning half over the table, began to draw
on the table-cloth a rude map of Tryon County.
"All know," he said, "that the province of New
York is the key to the rebel strength. While they hold
West Point and Albany and Stanwix, they hold Ti
County by the throat. Let them occupy Philadelphia.
Who cares? We can take it when we choose. Let
:i hold their dirty lioston; let the rebel Washiim-
sneak around the Jerseys. Who cares? There 11
be the finer hunting for us later. Gentlemen, as you
know, the invasion of New York is at hand has al-
ready begun. And that's no secret from the rebels,
i -it her: they may turn and twist and double hen
New York province, but they can't escape the trap,
though they saw it long ago."
He raised his head and glanced at
" Here is a triangle," he said ; " that triangle is New
Here is Albany, the objective of our
three armies, the gate of Tryon County, the plai
spot we are to cleanse, and the military centre. Now
mark! Burgoyne moves through the lakes, south.
ducing Ticonderoga and Edward, routing the i
out of Saratoga, and approaches Albany so. Clin-
moves i -nL r the Hudson to meet him so
re ing the Highlands at Peekskill, taking West
aving it for later punishment. Nothing
can stop him ; he meets Burgoyne here, at Alba
Again he looked at me. "You see, sir, that from
angles of the triangle converging armies depart
towards a common objectiv
aid.
"Now," he resumed, "the third force, und^r Colonel
Barry St. Leger to which my regiment and the r
ment of Colonel Butler have the honor to be attai!
embarks from Canada, sails up the St. Lawrei
disembarks at Oswego, on Lake Erie, marches straight
86
A NIGHT AT THE PATROON'S
Cn Stanwix, reduces it, and joins the armies of Clinton
and Burgoyne at Albany/'
He stood up, casting his bit of wood-coal on the cloth
before him.
" That, sir/' he said to me, " is the plan of campaign,
which the rebels know and cannot prevent. That
means the invasion of New York, the scouring out of
every plague-spot, the capture and destruction of every
rebel between Albany and the Jerseys."
He turned with a cold smile to Colonel Butler. " I
think my estates will not remain long in rebel hands,"
he said.
"Do you not understand, Mr. Ormond?" cried Cap-
tain Campbell, twitching me by the sleeve, an im-
pertinence 1 passed, considering him overflushed with
wine. " Do you not comprehend how hopeless is this
rebellion now?"
"How hopeless?" drawled Sir George, looking over
my shoulder, and, as though by accident, drawing
Campbell's presumptuous hand through his own arm.
"How hopeless?" echoed Campbell. "Why, here
are three armies of his Majesty's troops concentrating
on the heart of Tryon County. What can the rebels
do?"
" The patroons are with us, or have withdrawn from
the contest," said Sir John; "the great folk, military
men, and we of the landed gentry are for the King.
What remains to defy his authority?"
"Of what kidney are these Tryon County men?" I
asked, quietly. Sir John Johnson misunderstood me.
"Mr. Ormond," said Sir John, "Tryon County is
habited by four races. First, the Scotch-Irish, many
of them rebels, I admit, but many also loyal. Bal-
ance these against my Highlanders, and cross quits.
Second, the Palatines those men whose ances-
tors came hither to escape the armies of Louis XIV.
87
THE MAID-AT-ARM^
when they devastated the Palatinate. And aj
I admit these to be rebels. Third, those of Dutch
blood, descended from brave ancestors, like our worthy
patroon here. And once more I will admit that many
of these also are tainted with rebel heresies. Fourth,
the English, three-quarters of whom are Tories. And
now I ask you, can these separate handfuls of mixed
descent unite? And, if that were possible, can they
stand for one day, one hour, against the trained troops
of England?"
.od knows," I Mid.
VI
DAWN
I HAD stepped from the dining-hall out to the gun-
room. Clocks in the house were striking midnight.
In the dining-room the company had now taken to
drinking in earnest, cheering and singing loyal songs,
and through the open door whirled gusts of women's
laughter, and I heard the thud of guitar-strings echo
the song's gay words.
All was cool and dark in the body of the house as I
walked to the front door and opened it to bathe my
face in the freshening night. I heard the whippoonvill
in the thicket, and the drumming of the dew on the
porch roof, and far away a sound like ocean stirring
the winds in the pii.
The Maker of all things has set in me a love for what-
soever He has fashioned in His handiwork, whether
it be furry beast or pretty bird, or a spray of April willow,
or the tiny insect-creature that pursues its dumb, blind
way through this our common world. So come I by
my love for the voices of the night, and the eyes of the
stars, and the whisper of growing things, and the
spice in the air where, unseen, a million tiny blossoms
hold up white cups for dew, or for the misty-winged
things that woo them for their honey.
Now, in the face of this dark, soothing truce that
we call night, which is a buckler interposed between
the arrows of two angry suns, I stood thinking of war
and the wrong of it. And all around me in the dark-
89
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
ness insects sang, and delicate, gauzy creatures chirked
and throbbed and strummed in cadence, while the star's
li^ht faintly silvered the still trees, and distant mono-
tones of the forest made a sustained and steady rush-
ing sound like the settling ebb of shallow seas. That
to my conscience I stood committed, I could not doubt.
1 must draw sword, and draw it soon, too not for
Tory or rebel, not for King or Congress, not for my
estates nor for my kin, but for the ancient liberties of
Englishmen, which England menaced to destroy.
That meant time lost in a return to my own home;
and yet why? Here in this county of Try on one
might stand for liberty of thought and action as
stanchly as at home. Here was a people with no tie
or sympathy to weld them save that common love of
liberty a scattered handful of races, without leaders,
without resources, menaced by three armies, menaced
by the five nations of the great confederacy the Iro-
quois.
To return to the sea islands on the Halifax and figrtf
fr THY own acres was useless if through Nc\
the British armies entered to the heart of the rehelliMM,
splitting the thirteen colonies with a flaming ifod
At home I had no kin to defend; my elder hr
had sailed to England, my superintendent, my over*
seers, my clerks were all Tory; my slaves would join
Minorcans or the blacks in Georgia, and I, single-
handed, could not lift a finger to restrain them.
But here, in the dire need of Tryon County, I lai^ht
be of use. Here was the very forefront of battle where,
beyond the horizon ion, uncoiling hydra folds,
already raised three horrid, threatening crests.
Ugh! the butcher's work that promised if the
Iroquois were uncaged! It made me shudder, fur I
knew something of that kind of war, having seen a
slight sendee against the Seminoles in my seventeenth
00
DAWN
year, and against the Chehaws and Tallassies a few
months later. Also in November of 1775 I accom-
panied Governor Tonyn to Picolata, but when I learned
that our mission was the shameful one of securing
the Indians as British allies I resigned my captaincy
in the Royal Rangers and returned to the Halifax to
wait and watch events.
And now, thoughtful, sad, wondering a little how
it all would end, I paced to and fro across the porch.
The steady patter of the dew was like the long roll
beating low, incessant, imperious and my heart
leaped responsive to the summons, till I found myself
standing rigid, staring into the darkness with fevered
eyes.
The smothered, double drumming of a guitar from
the distant revel assailed my ears, and a fresh, sweet
voice, singing:
* As at my door I chanced to be
A-spinning,
Spinning,
A grenadier he winked at me
A-grinning,
Grinning I
As at my door I chanced to be
A grenadier he winked at me,
And now my song's begun, you aec}
' My grenadier he said to me,
So jolly,
Jolly,
' We tax the tea, but love is free.
Sweet Molly,
Molly!'
My grenadier he said to me,
' We tax the tea, but love is freeP
And so my song it ends, you sec,
In folly,
Folly I"
91
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
I listened angrily; the voice was Dorothy Varick's,
and I wondered that she had the heart to sing such
foolishness for men whose grip was already on her
people's throats.
In the dining-hall somebody blew the view 1
on a hunting-horn, and I heard cheers and the dulled
roar of a chorus:
** Rally your men J
Campbell and Cameron,
\-hunting gentlemen,
Follow the Jacobite back to his deal
Run with the runaway rogue to his runway,
Stolen way I
Stole* way I
Gallop to Galway.
Back to Broadalbin and double to Perth ;
Ridel for the rebel is running to earth I"
And the shrill, fierce Highland cry, "Gralloch lii
echoed the infamous catch, till the night air rang f a i 1 1 1 1 y
in the starlight.
"Cruuchan!" shouted Captain Campbell; "the wild
myrtle to clan Campbell, the heather to the McDonalds!
An 't Arm, chlanna !"
And a great shout answered him : " The army ! Sons
of the army I"
Sullen and troubled and restless, I paced the porch,
and at length sat down on the steps to cool my hot
head in my hands.
And as I sat, there came my cousin Dorothy to the
porch to look for me, fanning her flushed face with a
great, plumy fan, the warm odor of roses still clinging
to her silken skirts.
ive they ended?" I asked, none too gracioi
" They are beginning," she said, with a laugh, then
drew a deep breath and waved her fan slowly. " Ah,
the sweet May night!" she murmur^ ~ves fixed on
92
DAWN
the north star. "Can you believe that men could
dream of war in this quiet paradise of silence?"
I made no answer, and she went on, fanning her hot
cheeks: "They're off to Oswego by dawn, the whole
company, gallant and baggage/' She laughed wick-
edly. "I don't mean their ladies, cousin."
" How could you?" I protested, grimly.
"Their wagons/' she said, "started to-day at sun-
down from Tribes Hill; Sir John, the Butlers, and
the Glencoe gentlemen follow at dawn. There are
post-chaises for the ladies out yonder, and an escort^
too. But nobody would stop them ; they're as safe as
Catrine Montour."
"Dorothy, who is this Catrine Montour?" I asked.
"A woman, cousin; a terrible hag who runs through
ihe woods, and none dare stop her.
"A real hag? You mean a ghost?"
"No, no; a real hag, with black locks hanging, and
long arms that could choke an ox."
"Why does she run through the woods?" I asked,
amused.
"Why? Who knows? She is always seen run-
ning."
" Where does she run to?"
" I don't know. Once Henry Stoner, the huntei , fol-
lowed her, and they say no one but Jack Mount can
outrun him; but she ran and ran, and he after her, till
the day fell down, and he fell gasping like a foundered
horse. But she ran on."
"Oh, tally," I said; "do you believe that?"
"Why, I know it is true," she replied, ceasing her
fanning to stare at me with calm, wide eyes. "Dc
you doubt it?"
" How can I ?" said I, laughing. " Who is this busy
hag, Catrine Montour?"
" They say," said Dorothy, waving her fan thought-
93
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
fully, "that her father was that Count Frontenac who
long ago governed the Canadas, and that her mother
was a Huron woman. Many believe her to be a witch.
1 don't know. Milk curdles in the jxins when she is
runnini: through the forest . . . they say. Once it
rained blood on our front porch. "
"Those red drops fall from flocks of butterflies," I
said, laughing. "I have seen red showers in Flor-
should like to he sure of that/' said Dorothy,
musing. Then, raising her starry eyes, she can
me laughing.
"Tease me," she smiled. "I don't care. You may
even make love to m choose."
"Make love to you!" I repeated, reddening.
" \Vhynot? It amuses and you're only a cou
Astonishment was followed by annoyance as
coolly disqualified me with a careless wave of her fan,
the word " cousin " into my very teeth.
"Suppose I paid court to you and gained your af-
1 said.
You have them," she replied, serenely.
' I mean your heart?"
>u have it ."
I mean your love, Dor<
"Ah," she said, with a faint smile, "I wish you
could I wish somebody could."
I was silent
"And I never shall bye; 1 know it, I feel it h
She pressed her side with a languid sidi that :
into fits o' laughter <1 my n
till it choked me, and looked at the sUu
"Perhaps," said I, "the gentle passion might be
awakened with patience . . . and practice."
he said.
"May I touch your hand?"
94
DAWN
Indolently fanning, she extended her fingers. I took
them in my hands.
"I am about to begin/' I said.
"Begin," she said.
So, her hand resting in mine, I told her that she
had robbed the skies and set two stars in violets for
her eyes ; that nature's one miracle was wrought when
in her cheeks roses bloomed beneath the snow; that
the frosted gold she called her hair had been spun from
December sunbeams, and that her voice was but the
melodies stolen from breeze and brook and golden-
throated birds.
"For all those pretty words," she said, "love still
lies sleeping."
"Perhaps my arm around your waist "
"Perhaps."
"So?"
"Yes.
And, after a silence:
"Has love stirred?"
"Love sleeps the sounder."
* And if I touched your lips?"
"Best not"
"Why?"
"I'm sure that love would yawn.**
Chilled, for unconsciously I had begun to find in
this child-play an interest unexpected, I dropped her
unresisting fingers.
"Upon my word," I said, almost irritably, "I can
believe you when you say you never mean to wed."
" But I don't say it," she protested.
" What? You have a mind to wed?"
" Nor did I say that, either," she said, laughing.
"Then what the deuce do you say?"
"Nothing, unless I'm entreated politely."
" I entreat you, cousin, most politely," I said.
95
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
" Then I may tell you that, though I trouble my head
nothing as to wedlock, I am betrothed."
"Betrothed!" I repeated, angrily disapixrinUtl, yet
I could not think why.
"Yes- ,1."
"To whom?"
"To a man, silly."
"Am;,
" With two legs, two arms, and a head, cousin. "
"You . . . love hi
"No," she said, serenely. "It's only to wed and
settle down some day."
MI don't love him?"
"No," she repeated, a trifle impatiently.
"And you mean to wed him?"
"Listen to the boy!" she exclaimed. "I've told
him ten times that I am betrothed, which means a
wedding. I am not one of those who break paroles."
"Oh ... you are now free on par<
"Prisoner on parole," she said, lightly. "I'm to
name the day o f punishment, and I promise you it
will not be soon."
" Dorothy," I said, " suppose in the mean time you
fell in 1
>," she said, sincerely.
"But but what would you do then?"
"Love, sil
"And . . . many?"
"Marry him whom I have promised n
ut you would be wretched!"
" Why? I can't fancy wedding one I love. 1 should
be ashamed, I think. I if I loved I should not v.
the man I loved to touch me not with gloves."
"You little fool!" 1 said. "You don't know what
you say."
"Yes, I do!" she cried, hotly. "Once there was a
96
DAWN
captain from Boston; I adored him. And once he
kissed my hand and I hated him!"
"I wish I'd been there/' I muttered.
She, waving her fan to and fro, continued : " I often
think of splendid men, and, dreaming in the sun-
shine, sometimes I adore them. But always these
day-dream heroes keep their distance; and we talk
and talk, and plan to do great good in the world, until
I fall a-napping. . . . Heigho! I'm yawning now."
She covered her face with her fan and leaned back
against a pillar, crossing her feet. "Tell me about
London," she said. But I knew no more than she.
"I'd be a belle there," she observed. "I'd have
a train o' beaux and macaronis at my heels, I war-
rant you I The f oppier, the more it would please me.
Think, cousin ranks of them all a-simper, ogling
me through a hundred quizzing -glasses I Heigho!
There's doubtless some deviltry in me, as Sir Lupus
says."
She yawned again, looked up at the stars, then fell
to twisting her fan with idle fingers.
"I suppose," she said, more to herself than to me,
"that Sir John is now close to the table's edge, and
Colonel Claus is under it. . . Hark to their song, all
off the key! But who cares? ... so that they quarrel
not. . . . Like those twin brawlers of Glencoe, . . . brood-
ing on feuds nigh a hundred years old. ... I have no
patience with a brooder, one who treasures wrongs, . . f
like Walter Butler." She looked up at me.
" I warned you," she said.
" It is not easy to avoid insulting him," 1 replied.
" I warned you of that, too. Now you've a quarrel,
and a reckoning in prospect."
" The reckoning is far off," I retorted, ill-humoredly.
" Far off yes. Further away than you know. You
will never cross swords with Walter Butler. "
t 97
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"And why not?"
"He means to use the Iroquois."
I was silent
"For the honor of your women, you cannot fight
such a man," she added, quietly
"I wish I had the right to protect your honor," I
said, so suddenly and so bitterly that I surprised my-
" Have you not?" she asked, gravely. " 1 am your
kinswoman."
" Yes, yes, I know," I muttered, and fell to plucking
at the lace on my wristbands.
The dawn's chill was in the air, the dawn's sih
too, and I saw the calm morning star on the horiion,
watching the dark world the dark, sad world, 1\
so still, so patient, under the ancient sky.
That melancholy whirh is an omen, too left me
benumbed, adrift in a sort of pained contentment
whu-h alternately soothed and troubled, so that at mo-
ments I almost drowsed, and at moments I heard my
heart stirring, as though in dull expectancy of beati-
tudes undreamed of.
Dorothy, too, sat listless, pensive, and in her eyes a
sombre shadow, such as falls on children's eyes at mo-
ments, leaving their elders silent.
Once in the false dawn a cock crowed, and tin-
shrill, far cry left the raw air emptier and the silence
more profound. I looked wistfully at the maid beside
me, chary of intrusion into the intimacy of her silence.
Presently her vague eyes met mine, and, as though
I had spoken, she said: "What is if"
"Only this I am sorry you are pledged."
Why, cousin
"It is unfair."
"To wh<
"To you. Bid him undo it and release you."
DAWN
"What matters it?" she said, dully.
"To wed, one should love," I muttered.
"I cannot," she answered, without moving. "I
would I could. This night has witched me to wish for
love to desire it; and 1 sit here a-thinking, a-thinkinc.
... If love ever came to me 1 should think it would
come now ere the dawn; here, where all is so dark
and quiet and close to God. . . . Cousin, this night, Tor
the first moment in all my life, I have desired love."
"To beloved?"
"No,... to love."
I do not know how long our silence lasted ; the faint-
est hint of silver touched the sky above the eastern for*
est; a bird awoke, sleepily twit luring; another piped
out fresh and clear, another, another; and, as the pallid
tint spread in the east, all the woodlands burst out
ringing into song.
In the house a door opened and a hoarse voice mut-
tered thickly. Dorothy paid no heed, but I rose and
stepped into the hallway, where servants were guiding
the patroon to bed, and a man hung to the bronze-
cannon post, swaying and mumbling threats Colonel
Claus, wig awry, stock unbuckled, and one shoe gone.
Faugh! the stale, sour air sickened me.
Then a company of gentlemen issued from the din-
ing-hall, and, as I stepped back to the porch to give
them room, their gray faces were turned to me with
meaningless smiles or blank inquiry.
" Where's my orderly?" hiccoughed Sir John John-
son. "Here, you, call my rascals; get the chaises up!
Dammy, I want my post-chaise, d' ye hear?"
Captain Campbell stumbled out to the lawn and
Jumbled about his lips with a whistle, which he finally
succeeded in blowing. This accomplished, he gravely
examined the sky.
"There they are," said Dorothy, quietly; and I saw,
99
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
the dim morning light, a dozen horsemen stirring
in the shadows of the stockade. And present Iv Un-
horses were brought up, followed by two post-chaises,
with sleepy post-boys sitting their saddles and men
afoot trailing rifles.
Colonel Butler came out of the door with Magdalen
Brant, who was half a id aided her to a cha
Guy Johnson followed with Betty Austin, his arm
around her, and climbed in after her. Then Sir John
brought Claire Putnam to the other chaise, entering
it himself behind her. And the post-boys wheeled
their horses out through the stockade, followed at a
gallop by the shadowy horsemen.
And now the Butlers, father and son, set toe to stir-
rup; and I saw Walter Butler kick the servant who
held his stirrup why, I do not know, unless the poor,
tired fellow's hands shook.
Up into their saddles popped the Glencoe captains ;
thm Campbell swore an oath and dismounted to look
for Colonel Claus; and presently two blacks carried
him nut and set him in Ins saddle, which he clung to,
swaying like a ship in distress, his ridnn: -hnots slung
md his neck, stockinged toes clutching the stirrups.
Away they went, followed at a trot by the armed
men on foot: fainter and fainter sounded the clink,
clink of their horses' hoofs, then died away.
he silence, the east reddened to a flame tin
turned to the open do< Dorothy was gone, but
old Cato stood there, withered hands clasped, peace-
ful eyes on me.
"Mawnin', suh," he said, sweet "Yaas, sun,
de night done gone and de sun mos' up. 1 1 'it dat-a-
way. Mars' George, suh, h'it jess natch 'ly dat-a-way
in dishyere world day, night, mo' day. What de
Bible say? Life, def, mo' life, suh. When we's daid
we'll sho' find it dat-a-way."
100
VII
AFTERMATH
CATO at my bedside with basin, towel, and razor,
a tub of water on the floor, and the sun shining
on my chamber wall. These, and a stale taste on my
tongue, greeted me as I awoke.
First to wash teeth and mouth with orris, then to
bathe, half asleep still; and yet again to lie a-think-
ing in my arm-chair, robed in a banyan, cheeks all
suds and nose sniffing the scented water in the chin-
basin which I held none too steady ; and I said, peevish-
ly, "What a fool a man is to play the fool! Do you
hear me, Cato?"
He said that he marked my words, and I bade him
hold his tongue and tell me the hour.
"Nine, suh."
"Then I'll sleep again," I muttered, but could not,
and after the morning draught felt better. Choco-
late and bread, new butter and new eggs, put me in a
kinder humor. Cato, burrowing in my boxes, drew
out a soft, new suit of doeskin with new points, new
girdle, and new moccasins.
"Oh," said I, watching him, "am I to go forest-
running to-day?"
"Mars' Varick gwine ride de boun's,"he announced,
cheerfully.
"Ride to hounds?" I repeated, astonished. "In
May?"
"No, suh! Ride de boun's, suh."
101
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Oh, ride the boundaries?"
"Oh, i 1. Whi.t time docs he start
'Bin:: vjh."
old man strove to straighten my short queue,
but found it hopeless, so tied it close and dusted <n
the French powder.
"Curly head, curly head," he muttered to himself.
"Dess lak yo' pap's! . . . an' Miss Dorry's. !
sakes, dishyere hair wuf mo'n eight dollar."
u think my hair worth more than eight doll
I asked, amused.
"I Tit sholyam, suh."
"But why eight dollars, C
"Das what the redcoats say; eight dollars fo
rebel scalp, suh/'
I sat up, horrified. "Who told you that?" I de-
manded.
" All de gemmen done say so Mars' Varick, Mars 9
Uip'm Hut!
" Bah! they said it to plague you, Cato," I muttered ;
but as I said it I saw the !! slave's eyes and knew
that he had told the truth
Sobered, I dressed me in my forest dress, absently
ni: the hunt t and tying knee-point
ld man polished hatchet and knife and slipjK-d
them into the beaded scabbards swinging on eitlur
Then I went out, noiselessly descending the stair-
way, and came all unawares upon the young folk and
the children gathered on the sunny porch, busy with
their morning tasks.
They neither saw nor heard me; I leaned ag,
the doorway to see the pretty picture at my ease. The
children, Sam and Benny, sat all hunched up, scowl
ing over their books.
102
AFTERMATH
Close to a fluted pillar, Dorothy Varick reclined in a
chair, embroidering her initials on a pair of white silk
hose, using the Rosemary stitch. And as her delicate
fingers flew, her gold thimble flashed like a fire-fly in
the sun.
At her feet, cross-legged, sat Cecile Butler, velvet
eyes intent on a silken petticoat which she was em-
broidering with pale sprays of flowers.
Kuyven and Harry, near by, dipped their brushes
into pans of brilliant French colors, the one to paint
marvellous birds on a silken fan, the other to decorate
a pair of white satin shoes with little pink blossoms
nodding on a vine.
Loath to disturb them, I stood smiling, silent; and
presently Dorothy, without raising her eyes, called
on Samuel to read his morning lesson, and he began,
breathing heavily:
" I know that God is wroth at me
For I was born in sin ;
My heart is so exceeding vile
Damnation dwells therein ;
Awake I sin, asleep I sin,
I sin with every breath,
When Adam fell he went to hell
And damned us all to death!"
He stopped short, scowling, partly from fright, I think.
"That teaches us to obey God, "said Ruyven, severe-
ly, dipping his brush into the pink paint-cake.
"What's the good of obeying God if we're all to go
to hell?" asked Cecile.
"We're not all going to hell," said Dorothy, calmly.
"God saves His elect."
"Who are the elect?" demanded Samuel, faintly
hopeful.
"Nobody knows," replied Cecile, grimly; "but I
guess "
103
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Benny/' broke in Dorothy, "read your lesson!
Cecile, stop your chatter!" And Benny, cheerful and
sceptical, read his lines:
' When by thpcctators I behold
What beauty doth adorn me.
Or in a glath when I behold
How thweetly God did form me.
Hath God thuch comeliness bethowed
And on me made to dwell?
What pity thuch a pretty maid
Ath 1 thoiul k 'o to h
And Benny giggled.
"Benjamin," & le, in an awful voice, "are
you not terrified at what you read?"
Huh!" said Benny, "I'm not a 'pretty maid'; I'm
a boy."
s all the same, little dunce!' 1 insisted G
" Doeth God thay little boyth are born to be damned?"
he asked, unea>
"No, no," interrupted Dorothy; "God saves His
elect, 1 ti 11 you. Don't you remember what He says?
" ' You sinners are, and such a share
As sinners may expect ;
Such you shall have; for I do aa*t
None but my own eK
And you see/' she added, confidently I think we all
are elect, and there's nothing to be afraid of. Benny,
stop sniffing!"
"Are you tsked Cecile, gloomily.
Dorothy, stitching serenely, answered : "I am sure
God is fair."
"Oh, everybody knows that," observed Cecile. "What
we want to know is, \\hat does He mean to do with
us."
"If we're good," added Samuel, fervently.
104
AFTERMATH
"He will damn us, perhaps/' said Ruyven, sucking
his paint-brush and looking critically at his work.
"Damn us? Why?" inquired Dorothy, raising her
eyes.
"Oh, for all that sin we were born in/' said Ruyven,
absently.
"But that's not fair/' said Dorothy.
"Are you smarter than a clergyman?" sneered
Ruyven
Dorothy spread the white silk stocking over one knee.
"I don't know/' she sighed, "sometimes I think I
am/'
"Pride," commented Cecile, complacently. "Pride
is sin, so there you are, Dorothy/'
"There you are, Dorothy!" said I, laughing from
the doorway; and, "Oh, Cousin Ormond!" they all
chorused, scrambling up to greet me.
"Have a care!" cried Dorothy. "That is my wed-
ding petticoat! Oh, he's slopped water on it! Benny,
you dreadful villain! ''
"No, he hasn't," said I, coming out to greet her and
Cecile, with Samuel and Benny hanging to my belt,
and Harry fast hold of one arm. "And what's all
this about wedding finery? Is there a bride in this
vicinity?"
Dorothy held out a stocking. " A bride's white silk-
en hose," she said, complacently.
" Embroidered on the knee with the bride's initials/'
added Cecile, proudly.
"Yours, Dorothy?" I demanded.
" Yes, but I shall not wear them for ages and ages.
I told you so last night."
"But I thought Dorothy had best make ready,"
remarked Cwle. "Dorothy is to carry that fan and
rear those slippers and this petticoat and the white
silk stockings when she weds Sir George."
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Sir George who?" I asked, bluntly.
"Why, Sir George Covert Didn't you knmv?"
>ked at Dorothy, incensed without a reason.
' \Vliy didn't you tell me?" I asked, ungraciou
"Why didn't you ask me?" she replied, a trifle hurt
I was silent.
Cecile said: "I hope that Dorothy will marry him
soon. I want to see ho AT she looks in this petticoat."
"Ho!" sneered Harry, "you just want to wear one
like it and be a bridesmaid and primp and give yourself
airs. I know you I"
"Sir George Covert is a good fellow," remarked
Ruyven, with a jwiironi/ing nod at Dorothy; "hut I
always said he was too old for you. You should see
how gray are his temples when he wears no powd<
" I le has fine eyes," murmured Cecile.
I le's too old; he's forty," repeated Ruyven.
I legs are shapely/' added Cecile, sentimentally.
Dorothy gave a despairing upward glance at
"Are these children not silly ? if she said, with a !r
shrug.
We may be children, and we may be silly," said
Ruyven, "but if we were you we'd wed our con
Ormond."
" All of you together?" inquired Dorothy.
Y i know what I mean/' he snapped.
hy don't you?" demanded Harry, vaguely,
twitching Dorothy by the apron.
"Do what?"
"Wed our cousin Ormond."
"But he has not asked me," she said, smiling.
Harry turned to me and took my arm affectionately
in his.
" You will ask her. won't you?" he murmured. " She's
very nice when she chooses."
"She wouldn't have me," I said, laughing.
1 06
AFTERMATH
"Oh yes, she would; and then you need never leave
us, which would be pleasant for all, I think. Won't
you ask her, cousin?"
" You ask her/' I said.
"Dorothy/' he broke out, eagerly. "You will wed
him, won't you? Our cousin Orraond says he will if
you will. And I'll tell Sir George that it's just a fam-
ily matter, and, besides, he's too old "
"Yes, tell Sir George that," sneered Ruyven, who
had listened in an embarrassment that certainly Doro-
thy had not betrayed. "You're a great fool, Harry.
Don't you know that when people want to wed they
ask each other's permission to ask each other's father,
and then their fathers ask each other, and then they
ask each "
" Other ! " cried Dorothy, laughing deliciously. " Oh,
Ruyven, Ruyven, you certainly will be the death of
me!"
" All the same," said Harry, sullenly, " our cousin
wishes to wed you."
"Do you?" asked Dorothy, raising her amused eyes
to me.
" I fear I come too late," I said, forcing a smile I was
not inclined to.
"Ah, yes; too late," she sighed, pretending a dole*
ful mien.
"Why?" demanded Harry, blankly.
Dorothy shook her head. " Sir George would never
permit me such a liberty. If he would, our cousin
Ormond and I could wed at once; you see I have my
bride's stockings here; Cecile could do my hair, Sam-
my carry my prayer-book, Benny my train, Ruyven
read the service "
Harry, flushing at the shout of laughter, gave Doro-
thy a dark look, turned and eyed me, then scowled
again at Dorothy.
107
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"All the same," he said, slowly, " you 're a great
goose not to wed him. . . . And you'll be sorry . . .
when he's dead!"
At this veiled prophecy of my approaching disso-
lution, all were silent save Dorothy and Ruyven, whose
fresh laughter rang out peal on peal.
"Laugh/* said Harry, gloomily; "but 3*ou won't
laugh when he's killed in tlu war, . . . and scalped,
too."
Ruyven, suddenly sober, looked up at me. Doro-
thy bent over her needle-work and examined it at:
tm
" Arc you going to the war?" asked Cecile, plain-
tively.
"Of course he's going; so am I," replied Ruyven,
striking a careless pose against a pillar.
"On which ride, Ruyven?" inquired Dorothy, sort-
ing her silks.
my cousin's side, of course," he said, uneasily.
"Which side is that?" asked Cecile.
Confused, flushing painfully, the boy looked at
me; and I rescued him, saying, "We'll talk that over
when we ride bounds this afternoon. Ruyven and I
understand each ether, don't we, Ruyven?"
He gave me a grateful glance. "Yes/' he said,
shyly.
Sir George Covert, a trifle pallid, but bland and
urbane, strolled out to the porch, saluting us gracef u
He paused beside Dorothy, who slipped her needle
through her work and held out her hand for him to
salute.
"Are you also going to the wars?" she asked, \vith
) friendly sn
"Where are they?" he inquired, pretending a fierce
eagerness. "Point out some wars and 111 go to Vm
post haste!"
108
AFTERMATH
" They're all around us," said Sammy, solemnly.
"Then we'd best get to horse and lose no time, Mr.
Ormond," he observed, passing his arm through mine.
In a lower voice he added: " Headache?"
" Oh no/' I said, hastily.
"Lucky dog. Sir Lupus lies as though struck by
lightning. I'm all a-quiver, too. A man of my years
is a fool to do such things. But I do, Ormond, I do ;
ass that I am. Do you ride bounds with Sir Lupus?"
" If he desires it," I said.
"Then Til see you when you pass my villa on the
Vlaie, where you'll find a glass of wine waiting. Do
you ride, Miss Dorothy?"
"Yes," she said.
A stable lad brought his horse to the porch. He
took leave of Dorothy with a grace that charmed even
me; yet, in his bearing towards her I could detect the
tender pride he had in her, and that left me cold and
thoughtful.
All liked him, though none appeared to regard him
exactly as a kinsman, nor accorded him that vague
shade of intimacy which is felt in kinship, not in com-
radeship alone, and which they already accorded me.
Dorothy walked with him to the stockade gate, the
stable lad following with his horse; and I saw them
stand there in low-voiced conversation, he lounging
and switching at the weeds with his riding-crop; she,
head bent, turning the gold thimble over and over be-
tween her fingers. And I wondered what they were
saying.
Presently he mounted and rode away, a graceful,
manly figure in the saddle, and not turning like a
fop to blow a kiss at his betrothed, nor spurring his
horse to show his skill for which I coldly respected
him.
Harry, Cecile, and the children gathered their paint?
109
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
and books and went into the house, demanding that
I should follow.
"Dorothy is beckoning us/' observed Ruyven,
^atlKTiiiLT up his paints.
I looked towards her and she raised her hand, mo-
nir us to come.
"About father's watch," she said. "I have just
consulted Sir George, and he says that neither I nor
Ruyven have won, seeing that Ruyven used the i
he did"
4 \ erf ried Ruj'ven, triumphantly. "Then
let us match dates again. Have you a shilling. Cousin
OnnoodT"
41 I'll throw hunting-knives for it/' suggested Doro-
thy.
"Oh no, you won't," retorted her brother, warily.
Then I'll race you to the porch."
Ik shook his head.
She 1 auLhcd tauntingly.
i not afraid/' said Ruyven, reddening and glanc-
ing at me.
ben I'll wrestle you."
MR by the malice in her smile, Ruyven seized
"No, no! Not in these clothes!" she said, i\\\
to free herself. " I put on my bucksk
Don't use me so roughly, y<u tear my laced apron.
Oh! you great booby!" And with a quick cry of
sentment she bent, caught her brother, and swum/
him off his feet clean over her left shoulder slap on the
prass.
"Silly!" she said, cheeks aflame. "I have no pa-
tience to be mauled." Then she laughed uno
to see him lying there, too astonished to get up.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
"Who taught you that hold?" he demanded, indig
no
AFTERMATH
nantly, scrambling to his feet. "I thought I alone
knew that."
" Why, Captain Campbell taught you last week and
... I was at the window . . . sewing," she said, demurely.
Ruyven looked at me, disgusted, muttering, " If I
could learn things the way she does, I'd not waste
time at King's College, I can tell you."
"You're not going to King's College, anyhow,"
said his sister. " York is full o' loyal rebels and Tory
patriots, and father says he'll be damned if you can
learn logic where all lack it."
She held out her hand, smiling. " No malice, Ruy-
ven, and we'll forgive each other."
Her brother met the clasp ; then, hands in his
pockets, followed us back through the stockade towards
the porch. I was pleased to see that his pride had
suffered no more than his body from the fall he got,
which augured well for a fair-minded manhood.
As we approached the house I heard hollow noises
within, like groans; and I stopped, listening intently.
" It is Sir Lupus snoring," observed Ruyven. " He
will wake soon ; I think I had best call Tulip," he
added, exchanging a glance with his sister; and en-
tered the house calling, "Cato! Cato! Tulip 1 Tulip! I
say!"
"Who is Tulip?" I asked of Dorothy, who lingered
at the threshold folding her embroidery into a bundle.
" Tulip? Oh, Tulip cooks for us black as a June
crow, cousin. She is voodoo."
"Evil-eye and all?" I asked, smiling.
Dorothy looked up shyly. "Don't you believe in
the evil-eye?"
I was not perfectly sure whether I did or not, but I
said "No."
"To believe is not necessarily to be afraid," she
added, quickly
III
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Now, had I believed in the voodoo craft, or in the
power of an evil-eye, I should also have feared. Those
10 have ever witnessed a sea-island witch-dance
bear me out, and I think a man may dread a hag and
be no coward either. But distance and time allay
tlu memories of such uncanny works I had forgotten
whether I was afraid or not. So I said, " There are no
witches, Dorothy."
She looked at me, dreamily. " There are none . . .
that I fear."
"Not even Catrine Montour?" I asked, to plague
her.
" No; it turns me cold to think of her running in the
fore i am not
She stood pensive in the doorway, rolling and un-
rolling her embroidery. Harry and Cecile came out,
flourishing alder poles from \vlm h lines and hooks
dangled. Samuel and Benny carried birchen baskets
and shallow m <
"If were to have Mohawk chubbs," said Cecile,
"you had best come with us, Domthv. Ruyven has
a book and has locked himself in the play-room."
But Dorothy shook her head, say mi; tliat she meant
to ride the boundary wuh us; and the children, after
vainly soliciting my company, trooped off towards that
same grist-np.ll in the ravine below the bridge which
I had observed on my first arrival at Varick Manor.
"I am wondering/' said Dorothy, "how you mean
to pass the morning. You had best steer wide of Sir
M until lie has breakfa
I've a mind to sleep," I said, guiltily.
4 I think it would be pleasant to ride (OL Will
you?" she asked; then, laughing, she said, frankly
" Since you have come I do nothing but follow you.
It is long since ! have had a young companion,
and, when I think that you are to leave us, it spurs me
112
AFTERMATH
to lose no moment that I shall regret when you are
gone/'
No shyness marred the pretty declaration of her
friendship, and it touched me the more keenly perhaps.
The confidence in her eyes, lifted so sweetly, waked
the best in me; and if my response was stumbling, it
was eager and warm, and seemed to please her.
"Tulip! Tulip!" she cried, "I want my dinner!
Now I " And to me, " We will eat what they give us ;
I shall dress in my buckskins and we will ride the
boundary and register the signs, and Sir Lupus and
the others can meet us at Sir George Covert's pleasure-
house on the Vlaie. Does it please you,Cousin George?"
I looked into her bright eyes and said that it pleased
me more than I dared say, and she laughed and ran
up-stairs, calling back to me that I should order our
horses and tell Cato to tell Tulip to fetch meat and
claret to the gun-room.
I whistled a small, black stable lad and bade him
bring our mounts to the porch, then wandered at ran-
dom down the hallway, following my nose, which
scented the kitchen, until I came to a closed door.
Behind that door meats were cooking I could take
my oath o' that so I opened the door and poked my
nose in.
"Tulip," I said, "come here!"
An ample black woman, aproned and turbaned, look-
ed at me through the steam of many kettles, turned and
cuffed the lad at the spit, dealt a few buffets among
the scullions, and waddled up to me, bobbing and
courtesying.
"Aunt Tulip," I said, gravely, "are you voodoo?"
"Folks says ah is, Mars' Ormon'," she said, in her
soft Georgia accent.
"Oh, they do, do they? Look at me, Aunt Tulip.
What do my eyes tell you of me?"
* 113
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Her dark eyes, fixed on mine, seemed to change,
and I thought little glimmers of pure gold tinted the
ins, like those marvellous restless tints in a gorgeous
bubble. Certainly her eyes were strange, almost c
pellinc, for I felt a faint rigidity in my cheeks and
my eyes returned directly to hers as at an unspoken
command.
"Can you read me, aunty?" I asked, trying to speak
easily, yet feeling the stiffness growing in my cheeks.
"Ah sho' can," she said, stepping nearer.
What is my fate, th
"Ah 'spec' yo' gwine fine yo'sc f in love," she said,
softly; and I strove to smile with ever- stiffening
lips.
A little numbness that tingled spread over UK
was pleasant; I did not care to withdraw my eyes.
enily the tightness in my face relaxed, I moved
my lips, smiling vaguely
In love," I repeated.
Vaas, Mars' Ormon' "
"\Vlu-
eyo* know h'it, I
11 me more."
" *Spec' ah done tolc yo' too nnuh. hnnev." She
looked at me steadily. "Pore Mars' Gawge," she
murmured, " 'spec' ah done tole yo' too inueh. But
it sho' ama-comin', honey, an' h'it gwine come pow'ful
sudden, an' h'it gwine mek yo' pow'ful sick."
"Am I to win 1
"No, honey."
"Is there no hope. Aunt Tulip?"
She hesitated as though at fault ; I felt the tenseness
in my face once more ; then, for ant, I lost tr
of time; for presently I found myself standing in the
hallway watching Sir Lupus through the open door
of the gun-room, and Sir Lupus was very angry.
114
AFTERMATH
" Dammy !" he roared, "am I to eat my plate? Cato!
I want my porridge!" i
Confused, I stood blinking at nim, and he at table,
bibbed like a babe, mad as a hornet, hammering on
the cloth with a great silver spoon and bellowing that
they meant to starve him.
"I don't remember how I came here," I began, then
flushed furiously at my foolishness.
" Remember 1" he shouted. "I don't remember any-
thing! I don't want to remember anything! I want
my porridge! I want it now! Damnation!"
Cato, hastening past me with the steaming dish,
was received with a yelp. But at last Sir Lupus got
his spoon into the mess and a portion of the mess into
his mouth, and fell to gobbling and growling, paying
me no further attention. So I closed the door of the
gun-room on the great patroon and walked to the foot
of the stairway.
A figure in soft buckskins was descending a
blue -eyed, graceful youth who hailed me with a
gesture.
"Dorothy!" I said, fascinated.
Her fringed hunting-shirt fell to her knees, the short
shoulder-cape from throat to breast; gay fringe flut-
tered from shoulder to wrist, and from thigh to ankle ;
and her little scarlet-quilled moccasins went pat-patki -
pat as she danced down the stairway and stood before
me, sweeping her cap from her golden head in exagger-
ated salute.
She seemed smaller in her boy's dress, fuller, too,
and rounder of neck and limb ; and the witchery of her
beauty left me silent a tribute she found delightful,
for she blushed very prettily and bowed again in dumb
acknowledgment of the homage all too evident in my
eyes.
Cato came with a dish of meat and a bottle of claret ;
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
and we sat down on the stairs, punishing bottle and
platter till neither drop nor scrap remained.
" Don't leave these dishes for Sir Lupus to fall over!"
cried to Cato, then sprang to her feet and was
out of the door before I could move, whistling for our
horses.
As I came out the horses arrived, and I hastened for-
ward to put her into her saddle, but she was up and
astride ere I reached the ground, coolly gathering
bridle and feeling with her soft leather toes for the
stirrups.
Astonished, for I had never seen a girl so i
I climbed to my saddle and wheeled my mare, follow
her out across the lawn, through the stockade and into
the road, where 1 pushed my horse forward and ranged
up beside her at a gallop, just as she reached the bridge.
"See!" she cried, with a sweep of her arm, ilu re-
are the children down there fishing under the mill."
And she waved her small cap of silver fox, calling in
a dear, sweet voice the Indian cry of triumph, " Kduel"
vm
RIDING THE BOUNDS
FOR the first half-mile our road lay over that same
golden, hilly country, and through the same splen-
did forests which I had traversed on my way to
the manor. Then we galloped past cultivated land,
where clustered spears of Indian corn sprouted above
the reddish golden soil, and sheep fed in stony past-
ures.
Around the cabins of the tenantry, fields of oats and
barley glimmered, thin blades pricking the loam, brill-
iant as splintered emeralds.
A few dropping blossoms still starred the apple-
trees, pears showed in tiny bunches, and once I saw
a late peach-tree in full pink bloom and an old man
hoeing the earth around it. He looked up as we gal-
loped past, saluted sullenly, and leaned on his hoe,
looking after us.
Dorothy said he was a Palatine refugee and a rebel,
like the majority of Sir Lupus's tenants; and I gazed
curiously at these fields and cabins where gaunt men
and gaunter women, laboring among their sprouting
vegetables, turned sun-dazzled eyes to watch us as we
clattered by; where ragged children, climbing on the
stockades, called out to us in little, shrill voices; where
feeding cattle lifted sober heads to stare; where lank,
yellow dogs rushed out barking and snapping till a cut
of the whip sent them scurrying back.
Once a woman came to her gate and hailed us, ask-
II?
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
ing if it was true that the troops had been withdrawn
from Johnstown and Kini:s borough.
"Which troops?" I asked.
"Ours," began the woman, then checked herself,
and shot a suspicious glance at inc.
" The Provincials are still at Johnstown and Kings-
borough," said Dorothy, gently.
A gleam of relief softened the woman's haggard
features. Then her face darkened again and she
pointed at two barefooted children shrinking agai
the fence.
It my man and I were alone we would not be afraid
of the Mohawks; but these-"
She made a desperate gesture, and stood star HILT
at the blue May field hills where, perhaps at that mo-
ment, painted Mohawk scouts were watching the Sa-
candaga.
your men remain quiet, Mrs. Schell, you need
fear neither rebel, savage, nor Tory," said Dorothy.
" The patroon will see that you have ample protection."
Mrs. Schell gave her a helpless glance. " Did you
not know that the district scout-call has gone on
she asked.
s; but if tli ts of Sir Lupus obey it they
-o at their jieril." replied Dorothy, gravely. "The
militia scouts of t! must not act hastily.
ir husband would be mad to answer a call and
leave you here alon
"What would you have him do?" muttered thu
woman.
"Do?" repeated Dorothy. "He can do one thintf
or the other join his regiment and take his family to
i he district fort, or stay at home and care for you and
the farm. These alarms are all wrong your men are
either soldiers or fanners; they cannot be both unless
they live close enough to the forts. Tell Mr. Schell
118
RIDING THE BOUNDS
that Francy McCraw and his riders are in the forest,
and that the Brandt-Meester of Balston saw a Mohawk
smoke-signal on the mountain behind Mayfield."
The woman folded her bony arras in her apron, cast
one tragic glance at her children, then faced us again,
hollow-eyed but undaunted.
"My man is with Stoner's scout," she said, with dull
pride.
"Then you must go to the block-house/' began
Dorc. <ut the woman pointed to the fields, shaking
her head.
"We shall build a block -house here," she said,
stubbornly. "We cannot leave our corn. We must
eat, Mistress Varick. My man is too poor to be a
Provincial soldier, too brave to refuse a militia call "
She choked, rubbed her eyes, and bent her stern
gaze on the hills once more. Presently we rode on,
and, turning in my saddle, I saw her standing as we
had left her, gaunt, rigid, staring steadily at the dread-
ed heights in the northwest.
As we galloped, cultivated fields and orchards be-
came rarer; here and there, it is true, some cabin stood
on a half-cleared hill-side, and we even passed one or
two substantial houses on the flat ridge to the east,
but long, solid stretches of forest intervened, and pres-
ently we left the highway and wheeled into a cool wood-
road bordered on either side by the forest.
"Here we find our first landmark/' said Dorothy,
drawing bridle.
A white triangle glimmered, cut in the bark of an
enormous pine ; and my cousin rode up to the tree and
patted the bark with her little hand. On the triangle
somebody had cut a V and painted it black.
"This is a boundary mark/' said Dorothy. "The
Mohawks claim the forest to the east ; ride around and
you will see their sign."
319
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
I guided my horse around the huge, straight trunk*.
An oval blaze scarred it and on the wood was painted
a red wolf.
" It's the wolf -clan, Brant's own clan of the Mohawk
nation," she called out to me. "Follow me, cousin."
And she dashed off down the wood-road, I galloping
behind, leaping windfalls, gullies, and the shallow
forest brooks that crossed our way. The road narrow . d
to a trodden trail; the trail faded, marked at first by
cut undergrowth, then only by the whit
tree-trunks.
These my cousin followed, her horse at a canter, and
I followed her, halting now and again to vci
white triangle on the solid flank of some forest gi.
panning a sugar-bush with the shack still standing
and the black embers of the fire scattered, until we
came to a logging-road and turned into it, side by
side. A well-defined path crossed this road at right
angles, and Dorothy pointed it out "The Iroquois
trail," she said. "See how deeply it is worn nearly
ten inches deep where the Five Nations have trod
it for centuries. Over it their liun ting-parties pass,
their scouts, their war-parties. It runs fn ven-
nyetto to the Sacandaga and north over the hills to
the Canadas."
We halted and looked down the empty, trodden trail,
stretching away through the forest. Thousands and
thousands of light, moccasined feet had worn it deep
and patted it hard as a sheep-path. On what mis
would the next Mohawk feet be speeding on that
trail?
"Those people at Fonda's Bush had best mo\
Johnstown," said Dorothy. " If the Mohawks strike,
v will strike through here at Balston or Saratoga,
or at the half-dozen families left at Fonda's Bush*
some of them call Broadalbin."
120
RIDING THE BOUNDS
"Have these poor wretches no one to warn them?" I
asked.
"Oh, they have been warned and warned, but they
cling to their cabins as cats cling to soft cushions.
The Palatines seem paralyzed with fear, the Dutch
are too lazy to move in around the forts, the Scotch
and English too obstinate. Nobody can do anything
for them you heard what that Schell woman said
when I urged her to prudence."
I bent my eyes on the ominous trail ; its very empti-
ness fascinated me, and I dismounted and knelt to ex-
amine it where, near a dry, rotten log, some fresh marks
showed.
Behind me I heard Dorothy dismount, dropping to
the ground lightly as a tree-lynx; the next moment
she laid her hand on my shoulder and bent over where
I was kneeling.
"Can you read me that sign?" she asked, mischiev-
ously.
" Something has rolled and squatted in the dry wood-
dust some bird, I think."
"A good guess," she said; "a cock-partridge has
dusted here; see those bits of down? I say a cock-
bird because I know that log to be a drumming-log."
She raised herself and guided her horse along the
trail, bright eyes restlessly scanning ground and fring-
ing underbrush.
"Deer passed here one two three the third a
buck a three-year old," she said, sinking her voice
by instinct. " Yonder a tree-cat dug for a wood-mouse ;
your lynx is ever hanging about a drumming-log."
I laid my hand on her arm and pointed to a fresh,
green maple leaf lying beside the trail.
"Ay," she murmured, " but it fell naturally, cousin.
See ; here it parted from the stalk, clean as a poplar
twig, leaving the shiny cup unbruised. And nothing
121
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
has passed here this spider's web tells that, with a
dead moth dangling from it, dead these three d.
its brittle shell."
I hear water, I said, and presently we came to it,
where it hurried darkling across the trail.
There were no human si^ns there; here a woodcock
had peppered the mud with little holes, probing for
worms; there a raccoon had picked Ins way; yond<
Ivnx had left the great padded mark of its foot, doubt-
less watching for yonder mink nosing us from the bank
of the still pool bel<
Silently we mounted and rode out of the still Mohawk
country; and I was not sorry to leave, for it seemed to
me that there was something unfriendly in the intense
stillness something baleful in the silence; and I was
glad presently to see an open road and a great tree
marked with Sir Lupus's mark, the sun shining on
the \\ mgle and the painted V.
LC a slashing where the logging-road passed,
we moved on, side by side, talking in low tones. A
my cousin taught me how to know these Northern
trees by bark and leaf; how to know the shrubs new to
. like that strange plant whose root is like a human
body and which tl
gold ; and the aromatic root used in beer, and the bark
of the sv. i \vhse twigs are golden-black.
Now, though the birds and many of the beasts and
trees were familiar to me in this Northern forest, yet I
was constantly at fault, as I have said. Plumage
and leaf and fur puzzled me; our gra> rice-bird 1.
wore a vel\ v of black and white and sang di-
vinely, though with us he is mute as a mullet ; many
squirrels were striped with black and white; no rosy
lichen glimmered on the tree-trunks; no pink-stem;
pines softened sombre forest depths; no great figer-
striped butterflies told me that the wild orange waa
122
RIDING THE BOUNDS
growing near at hand ; no whirring, olive-tinted moth
signalled the hidden presence of the oleander. But I
saw everywhere unfamiliar winged things, I heard
unfamiliar bird-notes; new colors perplexed me, new
shapes, nay, the very soil smelled foreign, and the
water tasted savorless as the mist of pine barrens in
February.
Still, my Maker had set eyes in my head and given
me a nose to sniff with : and I was learning every mo-
ment, tasting, smelling, touching, listening, asking
questions unashamed ; and my cousin Dorothy seemed
never to tire in aiding me, nor did her eager delight and
sympathy abate one jot.
Dressed in full deer-skin as was I, she rode her horse
astride with a grace as perfect as it was unstudied and
unconscious, neither affecting the slothful carriage of
our Southern saddle-masters nor the dragoons' rigid
seat, but sat at ease, hollow-backed, loose-thighed, free-
rc'ined and free-stirruped.
Her hair, gathered into a golden club at the nape of
the neck, glittered in the sun, her eyes deepened like
the violet depths of mid-heaven. Already the sun had
Vnt her a delicate, creamy mask, golden on her temples
where the hair grew paler; and I thought I had never
seen such wholesome sweetness and beauty in any
living being.
We now rode through a vast flat land of willows,
headed due north once more, and I saw a little river
which twisted a hundred times upon itself like a stricken
snake, winding its shimmering coils out and in through
woodland, willow-flat, and reedy marsh.
"The Kennyetto," said Dorothy, "flowing out of
the great Vlaie to empty its waters close to its source
after a circle of half a hundred miles. Yonder lies the
VTaie it is that immense flat country of lake and marsh
and forest which is wedged in just south of the moun-
I2L1
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
tain-gap where the last of the Adiron< put into
the Ma fu Id hills and the long, low spurs rolling away
to the southeast. Sir William Johnson had a lodge
there at Summer-house Point. Since his death
George Covert has leased it from Sir John. That is
our try sting-place."
To hear Sir George's name now vaguely disturbed
me, yet I .ould not think why, for I admired and 1
him Hut at the bare mention of his name a dull un-
easiness came over me and I turned iinj>atiently to
my cousin as though the irritation had come from her
and she must explain it
What is it?" she inquired, faintly smiling.
" I asked no quest muttered,
" I thought you meant to speak, cous
I had meant to say something. I did not know
what.
" You seem to know when I am about to speak
said is twice you have responded to my unasked
questions."
"I know it," she said, surprised and a trifle per-
plexed. " I seem to hear you when you are mute, and
:rn to find you looking at me, as though you had
asked me something."
We rode on, thoughtful, silent, aware of a new and
wordless intimacy.
" It is pleasant to be with you," she said at last. " I
have never before found untroubled contentment save
when I am alone. . . . Everything that you see ;md
think of on this ride I seem to see and think of, too,
and know that you are observing with the same de-
light that I feel. . . . Nor does anything in the world
disturb my happiness. Nor do you vex me with silence
when I would have you speak ; nor with speech when
I ride dreaming as I do, cousin, for hours and hours
sadly, but in the sweetest peace "
124
RIDING THE BOUNDS
Her voice died out like a June breeze ; our horses, ear
to ear moved on slowly in the fragrant silence.
"To ride . . . forever . . . together/' she mused,
" looking with perfect content on all the world. ... I
teaching you, or you me; ... it's all one for the de-
light it gives to be alive and young. . . . And no trouble
to await us, ... nothing malicious to do a harm to any
living thing. ... I could renounce Heaven for that. . . .
Could you?"
"Yes. ...For less."
" I know I ask t^o much ; grief makes us purer, fit-
ting us "or the company of blessed souls. They say
that even war may be a holy thing though we are
commanded otherwise. . . . Cousin, at moments a de-
mon rises in me and I desire some forbidden thing so
ardently, so passionately, that it seems as if I could
fight a path through paradise itself to gain what I
desire. ... Do you feel so? '
"Yes."
" Is it not consuming terrible to be so shaken? . . .
Yet I never gain my desire, for there in my path my
own self rises to confront me, blocking my way. And
I can never pass never. . . . Once, in winter, our
agent, Mr. Fonda, came driving a trained caribou to
a sledge. A sweet, gentle thing, with dark, mild eyes,
and I was mad to drive it mad, cousin! But Sir Lu-
pus learned that it had trodden and gored a man, and
put me on my honor not ti drive it. And all day Sir
Lupus was away at Kingsborough for his rents and
I free to drive the sledge, . . . and I was mad to do it
and could not. And the pretty beast stabled with our
horses, and every day I might have driven it. ... I
never did. ... It hurts yet, cousin. . . . How strange
is it that to us the single word, 'honor/ blocks the
road and makes the King's own highway no thorough-
fare forever!"
125
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
She gathered bridle nervously, and we launched out
horses through a willow fringe and away over a soft,
sandy intervale, riding knee to knee till the wind whis-
tled in our ears and the sand rose fountain high at
every stride of our bounding horses.
"Ah!" she si-hed, drawing bridle That clears
the heart of silly troubles. Was it not glorious? Like
a plunge to the throat in an icy pool!"
Her face, radiant, transfigured, was turned to the
north, where, glittering under the westward sun, the
sunny waters of the Vlaie sparkled between green
reeds and rushes. Beyond, omoky blue mountains
tumbled into two uneven walls, spread southeast and
southwest, flanking the flat valley of the Vlaie.
Thousands of blackbirds chattered and croaked
and trilled and whistled in the reeds, flitting upward,
with a flash of scarlet on their wings; hovering, drop-
ping again amid a ceaseless chorus from the h
hidden flock. Over the marshes slow hawks sailol,
rose, wheeled, and fell ; the gray ducks, whose wings
bear purple diamond-squares, quacked in the tussock
ponds, guarded by their sen u tall, hliu
ry where the earth was sheeted with inarsh-n
golds and .
Across the distant grassy flat two deer moved, graz-
ing. We rode to the east, skirting the marshes, follow-
ing a trail made by cattle, until beyond the flats we saw
the green roof <>f the pleasure-house which Sir Will-
iam Johnson had built for himself. Our ri<K i r th<r
was nearly ended.
As at the same thought we tightened bridle
looked at each other gravely.
' All rides end," I said.
"Ay, like happiness."
"Both may be renewed."
"Until they end again."
126
RIDING THE BOUNDS
"Until they end forever."
She clasped her bare hands on her horse's neck, sit-
ting with bent head as though lost in sombre mem-
ories.
" What ends forever might endure forever/' I said.
"Not our rides together," she murmured. "You
must return to the South one day. I must wed. . .
Where shall we be this day a year hence?"
" Very far apart, cousin."
" Will you remember this ride?"
"Yes," I said, troubled.
" I will, too. . . . And I shall wonder what you are
doing."
" And I shall think of you," I said, soberly.
"Will you write?"
"Yes. Will you?"
"Yes."
Silence fell between us like a shadow ; then :
"Yonder rides Sir George Covert," she said, list-
lessly.
I saw him dismounting before his door, but said
nothing.
" Shall we move forward?" she asked, bitt did not stir
a finger towards the bridle lying on her horse's neck.
Another silence ; and, impatiently :
"I cannot bear to have you go," she said; "we are
perfectly contented together and I wish you to know
all the thoughts I have touching on the world and on
people. A cannot tell them to my father, nor to Ruy-
ven and Cecile is too young "
" There is Sir George," I said.
"Hel Why, I should never think of telling him
of these thoughts that please or trouble or torment
me!" she said, in frank surprise. "He neither cares
for the things you care for nor thinks about them at
all."
127
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Perhaps he does. Ask him."
" I have. He smiles and says nothing. I am afraid
to tax his courtesy with babble of beast and bin! and
leaf and flower; and why one man is rich and anollu r
poor; and whether it is right that men should hold
slaves; and why our Lord permits evil, having the
power to end it for all time. I should like to know all
c things/' she said, earnestly.
" But I do not know them, Dorothy."
" Still, you think about them, and so do I. Sir Lupus
says you have liberated your Greeks and sent them
back. I want to know why. Then, too, though i
ther you nor I can know our Lord's purpose in endur-
ing the evil that Satan plans, it is pleasant, I think, to
ask each otl
"To think together." I said, sadly.
Yes ; that is it. Is it not a pleasure?"
"Yes, Dorothy."
does not matter that we fail to learn; it is the
happiness in knowing that the other also cares t
the delight in searching for reason together i
I have so longed to say this to somebody; and until
you came I never believed it possible. ... I wish we
were brother and sister! I wish you were Ceci
I could be with you all day and all night . . . At mi/ht .
half asleep, I think of wonderful things to talk ab
but I forget them by morning. Do you?"
"Yes, cou
is strange we are so alike!" she said, staring at
me thoughtfully.
IX
HIDDEN FIRE
Ai^TER a few moments' silence we moved forward
towards the pleasure - house, and we had scarcely
started when down the road, from the north, came the
patroon riding a powerful black horse, attended by
old Cato mounted on a raw-boned hunter, and by one
Peter Van Horn, the district Brandt-Meester, or fire-
warden. As they halted at Sir George Covert's door,
we rode up to join them at a gallop, and the patroon,
seeing us far off, waved his hat at us in evident good
humor.
"Not a landmark missing 1" he shouted, "and my
signs all witnessed for record by Peter and Catol How
do the southwest landmarks stand?"
" The tenth pine is blasted by lightning," said Doro-
thy, walking her beautiful gray to Sir Lupus's side.
" Pooh! We've a dozen years to change trees," said
Sir Lupus, in great content. " All's well everywhere,
save at the Fish-House near the Sacandaga ford, where
some impudent rascal says he saw smoke on the hills.
He's doubtless a liar. Where's Sir George?"
Sir George sauntered forth from the doorway where
he had been standing, and begged us to dismount,
but the patroon declined, saying that we had far to
ride ere sundown, and that one of us should go around
by Broadalbin. However, Dorothy and I slipped
from our saddles to stretch our legs while a servant
brought stirrup-cups and Sir George gathered a spray
9 129
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
of late lilac which my cousin fastened to her leather
belt.
" Tory lilacs/' said Sir George, slyly ; " these bushes
came from cuttings of those Sir William planted at
Johnson Hall."
* If Sir William planted them, a rebel may wear
thi-in," replied Dorothy, gayly.
" Ay, it's that whelp, Sir John . who has marred what
the great baronet left as his monument," growled old
Peter Van Horn.
That's treason!" snapped the patroon. "Stop it.
I won't have politics talked in my presence, no! Dam-
my. Peter, hold your toimm .
Dorothy, wearing the lilac spray, vaulted lightly
into her saddle, and I mounted my mare. Stirrup*
cups were filled and passed up to us, and we draiiud
a cooled measure of spiced claret to the master of the
pleasure-house, who pledged us gracefully in nturn,
and then stood by Dorothy's hor and laugh-
im: until, at a sign from Sir Lupus, Cato sounded
"Afoot!" on his curly hunting-horn, and the patroon
wheeled his big horse out into thr road, with a whij>-
salute to our host.
"Dine with us tonight'" he bawled, without turn-
ing his fat head or waiting for a reply, and hamrm
away in a torrent of dust. Sir George glanced u
fully at Dorothy.
"There's a district officer-call gone out," he said.
"Some of the Palatine officers desire my presence. I
cannot refuse. So ... it is good-bye for a v,
"Are you a militia officer?" I asked, curiously.
"Yes," he said, with a humorous grimace. "May
I say that you also are a candidate?"
Dorothy turned squarely in her saddle and looked
me in the eyes.
" At the district's service, Sir George," I said, lightly
130
HIDDEN FIRE
"Hal That is well done, Ormond!" he exclaimed.
94 Nothing yet to inconvenience you, but our Governor
Clinton may send you a billet doux from Albany before
May ends and June begins if this periwigged beau,
St. Leger, strolls out to ogle Stanwix "
Dorothy turned her horse sharply, saluted Sir George,
and galloped away towards her father, who had halted
at the cross-roads to wait for us.
"Good-bye, Sir George/' I said, offering my hand.
He took it in a firm, steady clasp.
" A safe journey, Ormond. I trust fortune may see
fit to throw us together in this coming campaign."
I bowed, turned bridle, and cantered off, leaving
him standing in the road before his gayly painted
pleasure-house, an empty wine-cup in his hand.
"Damnation, George!" bawled Sir Lupus, as I rode
up, " have we all day to stand nosing one another and
trading gossip 1 Some of us must ride by Fonda's
Bush, or Broadalbin, whatever the Scotch loons call
it; and I'll say plainly that I have no stomach for it;
I want my dinner!"
" It will give me pleasure to go/' said I, " but I re-
quire a guide."
"Peter shall ride with you," began Sir Lupus; but
Dorothy broke in, impatientl}' :
" He need not. I shall guide Mr. Ormond to Broad-
albin."
"Oh no, you won't!" snapped the patroon; "you've
done enough of forest-running for one day. Peter,
pilot Mr. Ormond to the Bush."
And he galloped on ahead, followed by Cato and
Peter; so that, by reason of their dust, which we did
not choose to choke in, Dorothy and I slackened our
pace and fell behind.
" Do you know why you are to pass by Broadalbin ?"
she asked, presently.
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
I said I did not.
" Folk at the Fish-House saw smoke on the Mayfield
hills an hour since. That is twice in three days!"
"Well," said I, "what of th
"It is best that the Broadalbin settlement should
hear of it."
"Do you mean that it may have been an Indian
sign
It rnay have been. I did not see it the forest cut
our view."
The westering sun, shining over the Maylu Id hills.
turned the dust to golden fog. Through it Cato's
coat glimmered, and the hunting-horn, curving up
over his bent back, struck out streams of blinding
sparks. Brass buttons on the patrooVs broad coat-
skirts twinkled like yellow stars, and the spurs fla.v
on his quarter-gaiters as he pounded along at a solid
hand-gallop, hat crammed over his fat ears, pig
a-bristle, and the blue coat on his enormous body white
!i dust.
In the renewed melody of the song-birds there was
a hint of approaching evening; shadows lengthened;
the sunlight grew redder on the dusty road.
"The Broadalbin trail swings into the forest just
ahead/' said Dorothy, pointing with her whip-stock.
"See, there where they are drawing hndK Hut I
mean to ride with you, nevertheless. . . . And I'll do it '
The patroon was waiting for us when we came to
the weather-beaten finger-post:
" FONDA'S BUSH
4 MILES."
And Peter Van Horn had already ridden into the broad,
soft wood-road, when Dorothy, swinging her horse
past him at a gallop, cried out, "I want to go with
HIDDEN FIRE
them! Please let me!" And was gone like a deer,
tearing away down the leafy trail.
"Come back!" roared Sir Lupus, standing straight
up in his ponderous stirrups. " Come back, you little
vixen! Am I to be obeyed, or am I not? Baggage!
Undutiful tree-cat! Dammy, she's off!"
He looked at me and smote his fat thigh with open
hand.
"Did you ever see the like of her!" he chuckled, in
his pride. " She's a Dutch Varick for obstinacy, but
the rest is Ormond all Ormond. Ride on, George,
and tell those rebel fools at Fonda's Bush that they
should be hunting cover in the forts if folk at the Fish-
House read that smoke aright. Follow the Brandt-
Meester if Dorothy slips you, and tell her I'll birch her,
big as she is, if she's not home by the new moon rise."
Then he dragged his hat over his mottled ears,
grasped the bridle and galloped on, followed by old
Cato and his red coat and curly horn.
I had ridden a cautious mile on the dim, leafy trail
ere I picked up Van Horn, only to quit him. I had
ridden full three before I caught sight of Dorothy, sit-
ting her gray horse, head at gaze in my direction.
" What in the world set you tearing off through the
forest like that?" I asked, laughing.
She turned her horse and we walked on, side by
side.
" I wished to come," she said, simply. " The pleas-
ures of this day must end only with the night. Be-
sides, I was burning to ask you if it is true that you
mean to stay here and serve with our militia?"
" I mean to stay/' I said, slowly.
"And serve?"
"If they desire it."
" Why?" she asked, raising her bright eyes.
I thought a moment, then said :
133
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"I hare decided to resist our King's soldiers."
"But why here?" she repeated, clear eyes still on
mine. "Tell me the truth. 1 '
" I think it is because you are here," I said, soberly.
The loveliest smile parted her lips.
" I hoped you would say that. ... Do I please you?
ten, cousin: I have a mad impulse to follow you
to be hindered rages me beyond endurance as when
Sir Lupus called me back. For, within the past hour
ingest fancy has possessed me that we have
little time left to be together ; that I ^should not let one
moment slip to enjoy you."
"Foolish prophetess," I said, striving to laugh.
"A prophetess?" she repeated under her breath.
And, as we rode on through the forest dusk, her head
drooped thoughtfully, shaded by her loosened hair.
At list she looked up dreamily, musing aloud :
" No prophetess, cousin ; only a chi 1 rless and
fi\ttcd with too much pleasure, tired out M
having played too hard. I do not know
quite how I should conduct. I am unaccustomed to
like you, cousin; and, in the untasted de-
lights of such companionship, have run wikl till
head swims wT the humming thoughts you
. and I long for a dark, still room and a bed to lu
on, and think of this day's pleasures."
After a silence, broken only by our horses treading
the I have been starving for this com-
panionship. ... I was parched! . . . Cousin, ha\v you
drink too deeply? Have you been too kind?
Wh in this new terror lest you lest you tire of
and my silly speech? Oh, I know my thoughts
have been too long pent! I could talk to you forever!
uld ride with you till I died! I am like a caged
ig loosed, I tell you for I may tell you, may I D
cous
134
HIDDEN FIRE
"Tell me all you think, Dorothy."
"I could tell you all everything! I never had a
thought that I do not desire you to know, . . . save
one. . . . And that I do desire to tell you . . . but
cannot. . . . Cousin, why did you name your mare
Isene?"
" An Indian girl in Florida bore that name ; the Semi-
noles called her Issena."
" And so you named your mare from her?"
"Yes."
" Was she your friend that you named your mare
from her?"
" She lived a century ago a princess. She wedded
with a Huguenot."
"Oh," said Dorothy, "I thought she was perhaps
your sweetheart."
"I have none."
" You never had one?"
"No."
I turned in my saddle.
" Why have you never had a gallant?"
" Oh, that is not the same. Men fall in love or pro-
test as much. And at wine they boast of their good
fortunes, swearing each that his mistress is the fairest,
and bragging till I yawn to listen. . . . And yet you
say you never had a sweetheart?"
" Neither titled nor untitled, cousin. And, if I had,
at home we never speak of it, deeming it a breach of
honor."
"Why?"
"For shame, I suppose."
" Is it shameless to speak as I do?" she asked.
" Not to me, Dorothy. I wish you might be spared
all that unlicensed gossip that you hear at table not
that it could harm such innocence as yours! For, on
135
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
honor, I never knew a woman such as you, nor a
maid so nobly fashioned!"
I stopped, meeting her wide eyes.
"Say it," she murmured. "It is happiness to hear
you."
"Then hear me," I said, slowly. "Loyalty, de-
votion, tenderness, all are your due; not alone for tlu
fair body that holds your soul imprisoned, but for the
pure tenant that dwells in it so sweetly behind the bhu-
idows of your eyes! Dorothy! Dorothy 1 Have
I said too much? Yet I beg that you remember
lest you forget me wlu-n I have gone from you.
And say to Sir George that I said it. ... Tell him
after you are wedded, and say that all men envy him.
yet wish him well. For the day he weds he weds the
noblest woman in all the confines of this earth!"
d, she stared at nu through the fading light;
and I saw her eyes all wt t in the shadow of her tangled
;ind the pulse beating in her throat.
so good so pitiful," she said; "and I
cannot even find the words to tell you of those deep
thoughts you stir in me to tell you how sweetly you
use me "
11 me no more," I stammered, all .Mjimvr .a h< r
voice. She shrank back as at a blow, and I, head
swimming, frighted, penitent, caught her small hand
in mine and drew her nearer; nor could I speak for
the loud beating of my heart
What is it?" she murmured. " Have I pained you
that you tremble so? Look at me, cousin. I can
scarce see you in the dusk. Have I hurt you? I love
you dearly."
Her horse moved nearer, our knees touched. In the
forest darkness I found I held her waist imprisoned,
and her arms were heavy on my shoulders. Then her
lips yielded and her arms tightened around my neck*
136
HIDDEN FIRE
and that swift embrace in the swimming darkness
kindled in me a flame that has never died that shall
live when this poor body crumbles into dust, lighting
my soul through its last dark pilgrimage.
As for her, she sat up in her saddle with a strange
little laugh, still holding to my hand. " Oh, you are
divine in all you lead me to/' she whispered. " Never,
never have I known delight in a kiss; and I have
been kissed, too, willing and against my will. But
you leave me breathing my heart out and all a-trem-
ble with a tenderness for you no, not again, cousin,
not yet."
Then slowly the full wretchedness of guilt burned
me, bone and soul, and what I had done seemed a black
evil to a maid betrothed, and to the man whose wine
had quenched my thirst an hour since.
Something of my thoughts she may have read in
my bent head and face averted, for she leaned forward
in her saddle, and drawing me by the arm, turned me
parti}- towards her.
"What troubles you?" she said, anxiously.
"My treason to Sir George."
"What treason?" she said, amazed.
"That I caressed you."
She laughed outright.
" Am I not free until I wed ? Do you imagine I should
have signed my liberty away to please Sir George?
Why, cousin, if I may not caress whom I choose and
find a pleasure in the way you use me, I am no better
than the winter log he buys to toast his shins at!"
Then she grew angry in her impatience, slapping
her bridle down to range her horse up closer to mine.
"Am I not to wed him?" she said. "Is not that
enough? And I told him so, flatly, I warrant you,
when Captain Campbell kissed me on the porch
which maddened me, for he was not to my fancy but
137
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Sir George saw him and there was like to be a silly
scene until I made it plain that I would endure no bonds
before 1 \\orc a wedding -ring I" She buighed deli-
ciou I think he understands now that I am nt
yoked until I bend my neck. And until I bend it 1
am free. So if I please you, kiss me, . . . but leave me
a little breath to draw, cousin, . . . and a saddle
to. ... Now loose me for the forest ends!"
A faint red light grew in the woodland gloom ; a rush-
ing noise like swiftly flowing water filled my ears
or was it the blood that surged singing through my
heart?
"Broadalbin Bush," she murmured, clearing her
eyes of the clouded hair and feeling t stirrups
with small, moccasined toes. ' Now we hear
the Komyetto roaring btl hill. See, con
I sunset, the west blazes, all heaven is afire! Ah I
what sorcery has turned the world to paradise riding
this day with you?"
turned in her saddle with an e
pressed her outstretched hand against my lips, ilu-n,
gathering bridle, launched her horse straight through
the underbrush, out into a pasture where, across a
naked hill, a few log-houses reddened in the sunset.
re huntf t smell of sweet-brier as we
drew bridle before a cabin under the hill I leaned '
and plucked a handful of the leaves, bruising them in
my palm to savor v perfum
A man came to the door of the cabin and stared at
us; a tap-room sluggard, a-sunning on the west fi :
rail, chewed his cud solemnly and watched us with
watery eyes.
"Andrew Bowman, have you seen aught to fright
folk on the mountain?" asked Dorothy, gravely.
The man in the doorway shook his head. I
138
HIDDEN FIRE
the cabins near by a few men and women trooped out
into the road and hastened towards us. One of the
houses bore a bush, and I saw two men peering at us
through the open window, pewters in hand.
"Good people/' said Dorothy, quietly, "the patroon
sends you word of a strange smoke seen this day in
the hills."
"There's smoke there now," I said, pointing into
the sunset.
At that moment Peter Van Horn galloped up, halt-
ed, and turned his head, following the direction of
my outstretched arm. Others came, blinking into the
ruddy evening glow, craning their necks to see, and
from the wretched tavern a lank lout stumbled forth,
rifle shouldered, pewter a-slop, to learn the news that
had brought us hither at that hour.
"It is mist," said a woman; but her roice trembled
as she said it.
"It is smoke," growled Van Horn. "Read it, you
who can."
Whereat the fellow in the tavern window fell a-laugh-
ing and called down to his companion : " Francy Mc-
Craw! Francy McCrawl The Brand t-Meester says a
Mohawk fire burns in the north!"
" I hear him," cried McCraw, draining his pewter.
Dorothy turned sharply. "Oh, is that you, Mc-
Craw? What brings you to the Bush?"
The lank fellow turned his wild, blue eyes on her, then
gazed at the smoke. Some of the men scowled at him.
" Is that smoke?" I asked, sharply. " Answer me,
McCraw!"
" A canna' deny it," he said, with a mad chuckle.
" Is it Indian smoke?" demanded Van Horn.
" Aweel," he replied, craning his skinny neck and
cocking his head impudently "aweel, a'll admit that,
too. It's Indian smoke; a canna deny it, no."
139
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Is it a Mohawk signal?' 1 I asked, bluntly.
At which he burst out into a crowing laugh.
"What does he say?" called out the man from the
tavern. "What does he say, Francy McCraw?"
Me says it maun be Mohawk smoke, Danny Red-
stock/'
"And what if it is?" blustered Redstock, shouldering
way to McCraw, rifle in hand. "Keep your black
looks for your neighbors, Andrew Bowman. What
have we to do with your Mohawk fires?"
I Icrman Salisbury!" cried Bowman to a neighbor,
"do you hear what this Tory renegade says?"
"Quiet! Quut, tluiv said Redstock, swaggt
out into the road. " Francy McCraw, our good neigh-
bors are woful perplexed by that thread o' birch smoke
yonder."
" Then tell the feckless fools tae watch it!" screamed
McCraw, seizing his rifle and menacing the little throng
of men and women who had closed swiftly in on him
"Hands off me, Johnny Putnam back, for your life.
Charley Cadyl Ay, stare at the smoke till ye're eyes
I> frae th' sockets! But no; there's some foulk ill
tak' nae warnin'l"
He backed off down the road, followed by Redstock,
ies cocked.
" An' ye'll bear me out," he shouted, " that there's
t lu in wha' hear these words now shall meet their weirds
ere a hunter's moon is wast
He laughed his insane laugh and, throwing his rifle
over his shoulder, halted, facing us
"Hae ye no heard o' Catrine Montour?" he jeered.
"She'll come in the night, Andrew Bowman! L<
mon, but she's a grewsome carlm', wi the witch-locks
hangin' to her neck an' her twa een blazm ' '
"You drive us out to-night!" shouted Redstock.
" We'll remember it when Brant is in the hil
140
HIDDEN FIRE
"The wolf-yelp! Clan o' the wolf!*' screamed Mo
Craw. " Woe ! Woe to Breadalbane ! Tis the pibroch
o' Glencoe shall wake ye to the woods afire! Be
warned! Be warned, for ye stand knee-deep in ye're
shrouds!"
In the ruddy dusk their dark forms turned to shad-
ows and were gone.
Van Horn stirred in his saddle, then shook his shoul-
ders as though freeing them from a weight.
"Now you have it, you Broadalbin men/' he said,
grimly. "Go to the forts while there's time."
In the darkness around us children began to whim-
per; a woman broke down, sobbing.
" Silence!" cried Bowman, sternly. And to Dorothy,
who sat quietly on her horse beside him, " Say to the
patroon that we know our enemies. And you, Peter
Van Horn, on whichever side you stand, we men of
the Bush thank you and this young lady for your
coming."
And that was all. In silence we wheeled our horses
northward, Van Horn riding ahead, and passed out of
that dim hamlet which lay already in the shadows of
an unknown terror.
Behind us, as we looked back, one or two candles
flickered in cabin windows, pitiful, dim lights in the
vast, dark ocean of the forest. Above us the stars
grew clearer. A vesper-sparrow sang its pensive song.
Tranquil, sweet, the serene notes floated into silver
echoes never-ending, till it seemed as if the starlight
all around us quivered into song.
I touched Dorothy, riding beside me, white as a spirit
in the pale radiance, and she turned her sweet, fearless
face to mine.
"There is a sound," I whispered, "very far away."
She laid her hand in mine and drew bridle, listening.
Van Horn, too, had halted.
141
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Far in the forest the sound stirred the silence; snft,
stealthy, nearer, nearer, till it grew into a fuller. Sud-
denly Van Horn's horse reared.
Its there! it's there!" he cried, hoarsely, as our
horses swung round in terror.
" Lookl" muttered Dorothy.
Then a thing occurred that stopped my heart's blood.
For straight through the forest came running a dark-
shape, a squattering thing that passed us i >uld
draw breath to shriek; animal, human, or spirit. I
knew not, but it ran on, thuddy- thud, thuddy- thud !
and we struggling with our frantic horses to ma
them ere they dashed us lifeless a morn: UK- trees.
"Jesu!" gasped Van Horn, dragging his powerful
horse back into the road. "Can you make aught o'
yonder fearsome thing, like a wart-toad scrabbling <>n
two le^
Dorothy, teeth set, drove her heels into her gray's
ribs and forced him to where my mare stood all
a-quiver,
.: from hell," panted Van Horn, flighting
and wrist with his roan. " My nagshiesat nn
bear nor wolf 1 Look at him no
"Nor mine at anything save a savage," said I, fear-
fully peering behind me while my maiv trembled un-
der me.
"I think we have seen a savage, that is all, ft 11
Dorothy's calm voice. " I think we have seen Catrine
At the name, Van Horn swore steadily.
" If that be the witch Montour, she runs like a !
man with the fiery cross," I said, shuddering.
" And that is like to be her business, muttered Van
Horn. "The painted forest-men are in tin hill .-, and if
Senecas, Cayugas, and Onondagas do not know it
night, it will be no fault of Catrine Montour."
142
HIDDEN FIRE
"Ride on, Peter/' said Dorothy, and checked her
horse till my mare came abreast.
"Are you afraid?" I whispered.
"Afraid? No!" she said, astonished. "What
should arouse fear in me?"
"Your common-sense!" I said, impatiently, irritated
to rudeness by the shocking and unearthly spectacle
which had nigh unnerved me. But she answered very
sweetly :
" If I fear nothing, it is because there is nothing that
I know of in the world to fright me. I remember," she
added, gravely, " ' A thousand shall fall at my side
and ten thousand at my right hand. And it shall
not come nigh me.' How can I fear, believing that?"
She leaned from her saddle and I saw her eyes search*
ing my face in the darkness.
"Silly," she said, tenderly, "I have no fear save
that you should prove unkind."
"Then give yourself to me, Dorothj," I said, hold-
ing her imprisoned.
"How can I? You have me."
"I mean forever."
"But I have."
"I mean in wedlock!" I whispered, fierce!/.
"How can I, silly I am promised!"
"Can I not stir you to love me?" I said.
"To love you? . . . Better than I do? . . . You may
try."
"Then wed me!"
" If I were wed to you would I lore you better than
I do?" she asked.
"Dorothy, Dorothy," I begged, holding her fast,
"wed me; I love you."
She swayed back into her saddle, breaking my clasp.
"You know I cannot," she said. . . . Then, almost
tenderly: "Do you truly desire it? It is so dear to
143
THE MAID- AT- ARMS
hear you say it and I have heard the words often
enough, too, but never as you say them. ... I lad
you asked me in December, ere I was in honor bound.
. But I am promised ; . . . only a word, but it holds
me like a chain. . . . Dear lad, forget it. ... Use me
kindly . . Teach me to lo\ <. , . . an unresisting pu-
pil, ... for all life is too short for me to learn in, ... alas!
. God guard us both from love's unhappiness and
grant us only its sweetness which you have taught
me; to \vliu h I am I am awaking, . . . after all these
years, . . . after all these years without you.
. . . .
Perhaps it were kinder to let me deep. ... I am but
half awake to love.
.
Is it best to wake me, after all? Is it too late? . . . Draw
bridle in the starlight Look at me. ... It is too late,
for I shall never sleep again. "
X
TWO LESSONS
FOR two whole days I did not see my cousin Doro-
thy, she lying abed with hot and aching head, and
the blinds drawn to keep out all light. So I had time
to consider what we had said and done, and to what
we stood committed.
Yet, with time heavy on my hands and full leisure
to think, I could make nothing of those swift, fevered
hours together, nor what had happened to us that the
last moments should have found us in each other's
arms, her tear-stained eyes closed, her lips crushed to
mine. For, within that same hour, at table, she told
Sir Lupus to my very face that she desired to wed Sir
George as soon as might be, and would be content with
nothing save that Sir Lupus despatch a messenger to
the pleasure house, bidding Sir George dispose of his
affairs so that the marriage fall within the first three
days of June.
I could not doubt my own ears, yet could scarce
credit my shocked senses to hear her; and I had sat
there, now hot with anger, now in cold amazement;
not touching food save with an effort that cost me all
my self-command.
As for Sir Lupus, his astonishment and delight dis-
gusted me, for he fell a-blubbering in his joy, loading his
daughter with caresses, breaking out into praises of
her, lauding above all her filial gratitude and her con-
stancy to Sir George, whom he also larded and smeared
145
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
with compliments till his eulogium, buttered all too
thick for my weakened stomach, drove me from the
table to pace the dark porch and strive to reconcile
all these warring memories a-battle in my swimming
brain
What demon possessed her to throw away time, when
time was our most precious ally, our only hope! With
time if she truly loved me what might not be done?
And here, too, was another ally swiftly coming to our
aid on Time's own wm^s the war! whose far breath
already fanned the Mohawk smoke on the north
hills! And still another friendly ally stood to aid us
absence! For, with Sir George away, plunged into
new scenes, new hopes, new ambitions, he might well
change in his affections. An officer, and a successful
one, rising higher every day in the esteem of his country-
men, should find all paths open, all doors unlocked,
and a gracious welcome among those great folk of
New Y< .whose prii. -lent living mi
not only be justified, but even titled under a new regime
and a new monarch
These were the half -formed, maddened thoughts
through my mind as I paced tin-
porch that night; and I think they were, perhaps, the
-t unworthy thoughts that ever tempted me. For I
hated Sir George and wished him a quick flight to
immortality unless he changed in his desire for wed-
lock with my cousin
Gnawing my lips in growing rage I saw the messen-
ger for the pleasure house mount and gallop out of the
kade, and I wished him evil chance and a fall to
dash his senses out ere he rode up with his cursed mes-
sage to Sir George's door.
Passion blinded and deafened me to all whispers of
decency; conscience lay stunned within me, and I
think I know now what black obsession drives men's
U6
TWO LESSONS
bodies into murder and their souls to punishments
eternal.
Quivering from head to heel, now hot, now cold, and
strangling with the fierce desire for her whom I was
losing more hopelessly every moment, I started aim-
lessly through the starlight, pacing the stockade like
a caged beast, and I thought my swelling heart would
choke me if it broke not to ease my breath.
So this was love! A ghastly thing, God wot, to
transform an honest man, changing and twisting
right and wrong until the threads of decency and duty
hung too hopelessly entangled for him to follow or
untwine. Only one thing could I see or understand :
I desired her whom I loved and was now fast losing
forever.
Chance and circumstance had enmeshed me ; in vain
I struggled in the net of fate, bruised, stunned, con-
fused with grief and this new fire of passion which had
flashed up around me until I had inhaled the flames
and must forever bear their scars within as long as my
seared heart could pulse.
As I stood there under the dim trees, dumb, miser-
able, straining my ears for the messenger's return,
came my cousin Dorothy in the pale, flowered gown
she wore at supper, and ere she perceived me I saw
her searching for me, treading the new grass without
a sound, one hand pressed to her parted lips.
When she saw me she stood still, and her hands fell
1 loosely to her side.
"Cousin/' she said, in a faint voice.
And, as I did not answer, she stepped nearer till I
could see her blue eyes searching mine.
"What have you done!" I cried, harshly.
" I do not know," she said.
"I know," I retorted, fiercely. "Time was all we
had a few poor hours a day or two together. And
147
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
with time there was chance, and with chance, hope.
You have killed all ton
"No; . . . there was no chance; there is no longer
any time; there never was any hoj^. "
"There was hope!" I said, bitterly.
"No, there was none," she murmured.
"Then why did you tell me that you were free till
the yoke locked you to him? Why did you desire to
love? Why did you bid me teach v< tt? Why did you
consent to my lips, my arms? Why did you awake
me?"
"God knows," she said, faintly.
"Is that your defence?" I asked. "Have you no
defence?"
" None. ... I had never loved. ... I found you kind
and I had known no man like you. . . . Every moment
with you entranced me till, ... I don't know why,
that sweet madness came upon ... us ... which can
cr come again which must never come. ... 1
give me. I did not understand. Love was a word to
" Dorothy, Dorothy, what have I done!" I stammered.
"Not you, but I, ... and now it is plain to me why,
un wedded, I stand yoked together with my hoi
and you stand apart, fettered to yours. . . . We have
shaken our chains in play, the links still hold firm
and bright; but if we break them, then, as they snap,
our honor dies forever. For what I have done in idle
ignorance forgive me, and leave me to my penance, .
which must last for all my life, cousin. . . . And you
\ull forget . . . Hush! dearest lad, and let me speak.
Well, then I will say that I pray you may forgetl Well,
then I will not say that to grieve you. ... I u i h
to remember yet not know the pain that I "
"Dorothy, Dorothy, do you still love me?"
"Oh, I do love you! . . . No, no! I ask you to spare
148
TWO LESSONS
me even the touch of your hand ! I ask it, I beg you
to spare met I implore Be a shield to me 1 Aid me,
cousin. I ask it for the Ormond honor and for the
honor of the roof that shelters us both! . . . Now do
you understand? . . . Oh, I knew you to be all that I
adore and worship!
Our fault was in our ignorance. How could we know
of that hidden fire within us, stirring its chilled em-
bers in all innocence until the flames flashed out and
clothed us both in glory, cousin? Heed me, lest it turn
to flames of hell!
And now, dear lad, lest you should deem me mad to cut
short the happy time we had to hope for, I must tell
you what I have never told before. All that we have
in all the world is by charity of Sir George. He stood
in the breach when the Cosby heirs made ready to
foreclose on father; he held off the Van Rensselaers;
he threw the sop to Billy Livingston and to that great
villain, Klock. To-day, unsecured, his loans to my
father, still unpaid, have nigh beggared him. And
the little he has he is about to risk in this war whose
tides are creeping on us through this very night.
And when he honored me by asking me in marriage,
I, knowing all this, knowing all his goodness and his
generosity though he was not aware I knew it I
\vus thankful to say yes deeming it little enough to
please him and I not knowing what love meant "
Her soft voice broke ; she laid her hands on her eyes,
and stood so, speaking blindly. "What can I do,
cousin? What can I do? Tell me! I love you. Tell
me, use me kindly ; teach me to do right and keep my
honor bright as you could desire it were I to be your
wife!"
I4Q
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
It was that appeal, I think, that brought me 1
through the distorted shadows of my passion ; through
the dark pit of envy, past snares of jealousy and maU
ice, and the traps and pitfalls dug by Satan, safe to
UK trembling rock of honor once again.
Like a blind man healed by miracle, yet still gm
in the precious light that mazed him, so I peering with
aching eyes for those threads to guide me in my stumud
perplexity. But when at last I felt their touch, I found
I held one already the thread of hope and wluthcr
for good or evil I did not drop it, but gathered all to-
gether and wove them to a rope to hold by.
" What is it I must swear/' I asked, cold to the knees,
" Never again to kiss me."
" Never again "
"Nor to caress me."
" Nor to caress \
" Nor speak of love."
* Nor speak of lov<
" And . . . that is all/' she faltered.
* No, not all. I swear to love you always, never to
forget you, never to prove unworthy in your eyes,
never to wed ; living, to honor you ; dying, with your
name upon my lips."
She had stretched out her arms towards me as
though warning me to stop; but, as I spoke slowly,
weighing each word and its cost, her hands trembled
and sought each other so that she stood looking at
. fingers interlocked and her sweet face as white as
death.
And after a long time she came to me, and, raising
my hands, kissed them; and I touched her hair \
dumb lips; and she stole away through the starlight
like a white ghost returning to its tornh.
And long after, long, long after, as I stood there,
broke on my wrapt ears the far stroke of horse's hoofs,
TWO LESSONS
nearer, nearer, until the black bulk of the rider rose up
in the night and Sir Lupus came to the porch.
" Eh! What?" he cried. " Sir George away with the
Palatine rebels? Where? Gone to Stanwix? Now
Heaven have mercy on him for a madman who mixes
in this devil's brew! And he'll drown me with him,
too! Dammy, they'll say that I'm in with him. But
I'm not! Curse me if I am. I'm neutral neither
rebel nor Tory and I'll let 'em know it, too; only de-
siring quiet and peace and a fair word for all. Dam-
nation!"
And so had ended that memorable day and night;
and now for two whole wretched days I had not seen
Dorothy, nor heard of her save through Ruyven, who
brought us news that she lay on her bed in the dark
with no desire for company.
" There is a doctor at Johnstown/' he said ; " but
Dorothy refuses, saying that she is only tired and re-
quires peace and rest. I don't like it, Cousin George.
Never have I seen her ill, nor has any one. Suppose
you look at her, will } T ou?"
" If she will permit me," I said, slowly. " Ask her,
But he returned, shaking his head, and I sat down
once more upon the porch to think of her and of all I
loved in her; and how I must strive to fashion my life
so that I do naught that might shame me should she
know.
Now that it was believed that factional bickering
between the inhabitants of Try on County might lead,
in the immediate future, to something more serious
than town brawls and tavern squabbles; and, more-
over, as the Iroquois agitation had already resulted
in the withdrawal to Fort Niagara of the main body
of the Mohawk nation for what ominous purpose it
151
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
might be easy to guess Sir Lupus forbade the chil-
i to go a-roaming outside his own bounds!
Further, he had cautioned his servants and tenants
out of bounds, to avoid public houses like
the " Turtle-dove and Olive," and to refrain from busy-
themselves about matters in which they had no
Yet that very day, spite of the patroon's orders,
when General Schuyler s militia-call went out. o
half of his tenantry disappeared overnight, abandon-
ing everything save their live-stock and a rough cart
heaped with household furniture; journeyin
women and children, goods and chattels, towards the
nearest block-house or fort, there to deposit all except
powder-horn, flint, and rifle, and join the district regi-
ment now laboring with pick and shovel on the works
at Fort Stanwix.
As I sat there on the porch, wn trlud, restless, de-
bating what course I should take in the presence of
growing disorder which, aft 1 have said, had
ready invaded our own tenantry, came Sir Lupus
a-waddling, pipe in hand, and Cato bearing his huge
i hair so he mitfht sit in the sun, which was warm on
the porch.
" You've heard what my tenant rascals have done?"
he grunted, settling in his chair and stretching his fat
Itg*
Yes, sir," I said.
"Whatd'yethi t? Kh? Whatd'ycih
is very pitiful and sad to see these poor
creatures leaving their little farms to face the British
regulars and starvation."
ice the devil!" he snorted. " Nobody forces 'cm!"
"The greater honor due them," I retorted.
" Honor 1 Fol-d i I lad it been any other pa troon
but me, he'd turn his manor-house into a court-house.
TWO LESSONS
arrest 'em, try 'em, and hang a few for luck! In the
old days, I'll warrant you, the Cosbys would have
stood no such nonsense no, nor the Livingstons, nor
the Van Cortlandts. A hundred lashes here and there,
a debtor's jail, a hanging or two, would have made
things more cheerful. But I, curse me if I could ever
bring myself to use my simplest prerogatives; I can't
whip a man, no! I can't hang a man for anything
even a sheep-thief has his chance with me like that
great villain, Billy Bones, who turned renegade and
joined Danny Redstock and the McCraw."
He snorted in self-contempt and puffed savagely at
his clay pipe.
"la patroon? Dammy, I'm an old woman 1 Get
me my knitting! I want my knitting and a sunny
spot to mumble my gums and wait for noon and a dish
o' porridge! . . . George, my rents are cut in half, and
half my farms left to the briers and wolves in one day,
because his Majesty, General Schuyler, orders his
Highness, Colonel Dayton, to call out half the nnliti
to make a fort for his Eminence, Colonel Gansevoort!"
"At Stanwix?"
" They call it Fort Schuyler now after his Highness
in Albany."
"Sir Lupus," I said, "if it is true that the British
mean to invade us here with Brant's Mohawks, there is
but one bulwark between Tryon County and the enemy,
and that is Fort Stanwix. Why, in Heaven's name,
should it not be defended? If this British officer and
his renegades, regulars, and Indians take Stanwix
and fortify Johnstown, the whole country will swarm
with savages, outlaws, and a brutal soldiery already
hardened and made callous by a year of frontier war-
fare!
"Can you not understand this, sir? Do you think
it possible for these blood-drunk ruffians to roam the
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Mohawk and Sacandaira valleys and respect you and
yours just because you say you are neutral? Turn
loose a pack of famished panthers in a common pasture
and mark your sheep with your device and see h\v
many are alive at daybreak '
"Dammy, sir!" cried Sir Lupus, "the enemy arc Kd
l>v Hritish m-Mtleinen."
"Who doubtless will keep their own cuffs clean : it
were shame to doubt it' But if the Mohawks m;uvh
with them there'll be a bloody page in Tryon County
annals."
"The Mohawks will not join!" he said, violent lv.
" Has not Schuyler held a council-fire and talked wnh
belts to the entire confederacy?"
"The confederacy returned no belts," I said,
the Mohawks were not present."
Kirkland saw Brant/' he persisted, obstinate! v
s, and sent a secret report to Albany. If there
had been good news in that report, you Tryon County
had heard it long since, Sir Lu
ii have you been t.-i 11 he sneered,
removing his pipe from his yellow U
With one of your tenants yesterday, a certain
Christian Schell, lately returned with Stoner's scout '
" And what did Stoner's men see in the northwest?"
he demanded, con tempt uou
"They saw half a thousand Mohawks with eyes
painted in black circles and white. Sir Lupus."
" For the planting-dai muttered.
" No, Sir Lupus. The castles are empty, the villages
deserted. There is not one Mohawk left on their an-
cient lands, there is not one seed planted, not one foot
of soil cultivated, not one apple-bough grafted, not one
fish-line set!
"And you tell me the Mohawks are painted for
the planting-dance, in black and white? With everv
154
TWO LESSONS
hatchet shining like silver, and every knife ground to
a razor-edge, and every rifle polished, and every flint
new?"
"Who saw such things?" he asked, hoarsely.
"Christian Schell, of Stoner's scout."
" Now God curse them if they lift an arm to harm a
Tryon County man!" he burst out. "I'll not believe
it of the British gentlemen who differ with us over
taxing tea! No, dammy if I'll credit such a mon-
strous thing as this alliance I"
" Yet, a few nights since, sir, you heard Walter Butler
and Sir John threaten to use the Mohawks."
"And did not heed them!" he said, angrily. "It is
all talk, all threats, and empty warning. I tell you
they dare not for their names' sakes employ the sav-
ages against their own kind against friends who think
not as they think against old neighbors, ay, their
own kin!
"Nor dare we. Look at Schuyler a gentleman, if
ever there was one on this rotten earth standing,
belts in hand, before the sachems of the confederacy,
not soliciting Cayuga support, not begging Seneca
aid, not proposing a foul alliance with the Onondagas ;
but demanding right manfully that the confederacy
remain neutral ; nay, more, he repulsed offers of war-
riors from the Oneidas to scout for him, knowing what
that sweet word 'scout 9 implied God bless him! ... I
have no love for Schuyler. . . . He lately called me
'malt-worm/ and, if I'm not at fault, he added, 'skin
flint Dutchman/ or some such tribute to my thrift.
But he has conducted like a man of honor in this Iro-
quois matter, and I care not who hears me say it!"
He settled himself in his chair, mumbling in a rum-
bling voice, and all I could make out was here and
there a curse or two distributed impartially 'twixt Tory
and rebel and other asses now untethered in the world.
155
THE iMAID-AT-ARMS
"Well, sir/' I said, " from all I can gather, Burgoyne
is inarching southward through the lakes, and Clinton
is gathering an army in New York to inarch north and
meet Burgoyne, and now comes this Barry St Li
on the flank, aiming to join the others at Albany a:
taking Stanwix and Johnstown on the march three
spears to pierce a common centre, three torches to fire
three valleys, and you neutral Tryon men in UK ivntrr,
calm, undismayed, smoking your pipes and singing
songs of peace and good-will for all on earth."
"And why not, sir!" he snapped.
"Did you ever hear of Juggernaut?"
"I've heard the name a Frenchman, waa he not '
I think he burned Schenectady."
"No, sir; he is a heathen god/'
* And what the devil, sir, has Tryon County to do
with heathen gods!" he bawled.
"You shall see when the wheels pass," I said,
gloomily.
He folded his fat hands over his stomach and smoked
obstinate silence. I, too, was silent; again a faint
disgust for this man seized nu Mow noble and un-
selfish now appeared the conduct of those poor tenants
of his who had abandoned their little farms to am
Schuyler's call! trudging northward with wives and
babes, trusting to God for bread to fall like manna in
this wilderness to save ilu- frail lives of tlun 1
ones, while they faced the trained troops of Great Brit-
ain, and perhaps the Iroquois.
And here he sat, the patroon, sucking his pipe, i
ing his stomach; too cautious, too thrifty to stand like
a man, even for the honor of his own roof-tree I Lx
how mean, how sordid did he look to me, sulking
there, his mottled double-chin rwded out upon
stock, his bow-legs \viiK- t<> c radio tlu huge belly, his
small eyes obstinately a-squint and partly shut, which
TWO LESSONS
lent a gross shrewdness to the expanse of fat, almost
baleful, like the eye of a squid in its shapeless, jellied
body!
" What are your plans?'' he said, abruptly.
I told him that, through Sir George, I had placed mj
poor services at the State's disposal.
"You mean the rebel State's disposal?"
"Yes, sir."
" Then you are ready to enlist?"
"Quite ready, Sir Lupus."
" Only awaiting summons from Clinton and Schuy
ler?" he sneered.
"That is all, sir."
" And what about your properties in Florida?"
"I can do nothing there. If they confiscate them
in my absence, they might do worse were I to go back
and defy them. I believe my life is worth something
to our cause, and it would be only to waste it foolishly
if I returned to fight for a few indigo-vats and cane-
fields."
"While you can remain here and fight for other
people's hen-coops, eh?"
"No, sir; only to take up the common quarrel and
stand for that liberty which we inherited from those
who now seek to dispossess us."
"Quite an orator!" he observed, grimly. "The
Ormonds were formerly more ready with their swords
than with their tongues."
" I trust I shall not fail to sustain their traditions,"
I said, controlling my anger with a desperate effort.
He burst out into a hollow laugh.
"There you go, red as a turkey-cock and madder
than a singed tree-cat! George, can't you let me
plague you in comfort! Dammy, it's undutiful! For
pity's sake! let me sneer let me gibe and jeer if it
eases me."
157
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
I glared at him, half inclined to lautrh.
;rse it!" he said, wrathfully, " I'm serious You
don't know how serious I am. It's no laughing mat-
George. I must do something to ease me!" He
burst out into a roa -:ng in volleys.
"D' ye think I wish to appear contemptible'.'" he
shouted. "D' ye think I like to sit here like an old
wife, scolding in one breath and preaching thrift in
next? A weak-kneed, chicken-hvered, while IK 1
lied old bullfrog that squeaks and jumps, plunk! into
the puddle when a footstep falls in the grass!
1 not a patroon? Am I not Dutch? Granted I'm
and slow and a glutton, and lazy as a wolverine. I
can fight like one, too! Don't make any mistake
there, Ceorget"
broad face flushed crimson, his lit tie, green eyes
snap|H/d lire.
" D'ye thin 1 1 ve a fight as well as my ru
bor? D'ye think I've a stomach for mMilts and flo
and winks and nudges? Have I a liver to sit do
sums on my thumbs when these irnpu<!ent British are
kicking my people out of their own doors? Am I of a
i ley to smile and bow, and swallow and digest
orders of Tory swashbucklers, who lay down a rule of
conduct for men who should be framing rules of c<
mon decency for them? I)' ye think I'm a snail or a
potato or an empty pair o' breeches? Damnation!"
Rage convulsed him He recovered his self-com-
mand slowly, smashing his pij* in the interval; and
I, astonished beyond measure, waited for the expla
tion which he appeared to be disposed to gn
" If I'm wh.r he said, hoarsely, "an old
ass he-hawing 'Peace! peace! thrift! thrift!' it is be-
cause I must and not because the music pleases me.
And I had not meant to tell you why for none
other suspects it but my personal honor i* at stai
158
TWO LESSONS
rm in debt to a friend, George, and unless I am left in
I>eace here to collect my tithes and till my fields and
run my mills and ship my pearl -ashes, I can never
hope to pay a debt of honor incurred and which I
mean to pay, if I live, so help me God !
"Lad, if this house, these farms, these acres were
my own, do you think I'd hesitate to polish up that
old sword yonder that my father carried when Sche-
nectady went up in flames? . . . Know me better,
George! . . . Know that this condemnation to in-
action is the bitterest trial I have ever known. How
easy it would be for me to throw my own property into
one balance, my sword into the other, and say, ' De-
fend the one with the other or be robbed I' But I can't
throw another man's lands into the balance. I can't
raise the war-yelp and go careering about after glory
when I owe every shilling I possess and thousands
more to an honorable and generous gentleman who
refused all security for the loan save my own word of
honor.
" And now, simple, brave, high-minded as he is, he
offers to return me my word of honor, free me from his
debt, and leave me unshackled to conduct in this com-
in- war as I see fit.
" But that is more than he can do, George. My
word once pledged can only be redeemed by what it
stood for, and he is powerless to give it back.
"That is all, sir. . . . Pray think more kindly of
an old fool in future, when you plume yourself upon
your liberty to draw sword in the most just cause this
world has ever known."
" It is I who am the fool, Sir Lupus/' I said, in a low
voice.
XI
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
{REMEMBER it was the last day of May before I
saw my cousin Dorothy again.
Late that afternoon I had taken a fishing-rod and a
book. The Poems of Pansard, and had set out for the
grist mill on the stream below the log-bridge; but did
not go by road, as the dust was deep, so instead crossed
the meadow and entered the cool thicket, making a
shorter route to the stream.
Through the woodland, as I passed, I saw violets
hollows and blue innocence starring moist glades
with its heavenly color, and in the drier woods those
slender-stemmed blue bell-flowers which some call
Venus 's looking-glass.
In my saddened and rebellious heart a more inno-
cent passion stirred and awoke the tender pleasure
1 have always found in seeking out those shy people
of the forest, the wild blossoms a harmless pleasure,
for it is ever my habit to leave them undisturbed upon
their stalks.
Deeper in the forest pink moccasin-flowers bloomed
among rocks, and the air was tinctured with a honeyed
smell from the spiked orchis cradled in its sheltering
leaf under the hemlock shade.
Once, as I crossed a marshy place, about me floated
a violet perfume, and I was at a loss to find its source
until I espied a single purple blossom of the Areth li-
sa bedded in sturdy thickets of rose -azalea, faintly
160
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
spicy, and all humming with the wings of plundering
bees.
Underfoot my shoes brushed through spikenard,
and fell silently on carpets of moss-pinks, and once I
saw a matted bed of late Mayflower, and the forest
dusk grew sweeter and sweeter, saturating all the
woodland, until each breath I drew seemed to intoxi-
cate.
Spring languor was in earth and sky, and in my
bones, too ; yet, through this Northern forest ever and
anon came faint reminders of receding snows, melting
beyond the Canadas delicate zephyrs, tinctured with
the far scent of frost, flavoring the sun's balm at mo-
ments with a sharper essence.
Now traversing a ferny space edged in with sweet-
brier, a breeze accompanied me, caressing neck and
hair, stirring a sudden warmth upon my cheek like a
breathless maid close beside me, whispering.
Then through the rustle of leafy depths 1 heard the
stream's laughter, very far away, and 1 turned to the
left across the moss, walking more swiftly till I came
to the log-bridge where the road crosses. Below me
leaped the stream, deep in its ravine of slate, roaring
over the dam above the rocky gorge only to flow out
again between the ledge and the stone foundations of
the grist-mill opposite. Down into the ravine and
under the dam I climbed, using the mossy steps that
nature had cut in the slate, and found a rock to sit on
where the spray from the dam could not drench me.
And here I baited my hook and cast out, so that the
swirling water might carry my lure under the mill's
foundations, where Ruyven said big, dusky trout most
often lurked.
But I am no fisherman, and it gives me no pleasure
to drag a finny creature from its element and see its
poor mouth gasp and its eyes glaze and the fiery dots
161
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
on its quivering sides grow dimmer. So when a sly
trout snatched off my bait I was in no mood to c<
my hook again, but set the rod on the rocks and let
the bright current waft my line as it would, harmless
now as the dusty alder leaves dimpling yonder rip;
So I opened my book, idly attentive, reading The
Poems of Pansard, while dappled shadows of clush
maple leaves moved on the page, and droning bees
set old Pansard 's lines to music.
" Like two sweet skylarks springing skyward, singing,
Piercing the empyrean of blinding light.
So shall our souls take flight, serenely winging.
Soaring on azure heights to God's delight .
While from below through sombre deeps come stealing
The floating notes of earthward church-bells pealing."
My thoughts wandered and the yellow page fa<K ! to
a glimmer amid pale spots of sunshine waning when
some slow cloud drifted across the sun. Again my
eyes returned to the printed page, and again thou
parted from its moorings, a den lu t upon the tide of
memory. Far in the forest I heard tin throat's
call with the endless, sad refrain, "Weep -wee
Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy!" Though some vow that
the little hird sings plainly, " Sweet - sw - eet I Canada,
Canada, Canad
Then for a while I closed my eyes until, slowly, that
awakening sense that somebody was looking at me
came over me, and I raised my head.
Dorothy stood on the log-bridge above the dam, elbows
on tlu rail, gazing pensively at me.
Well, of all idle men!" she said, steadying her
ce perceptibly. "Shall I come down '
And without waiting for a reply she walked around
to the south end of the bridge and began to descend
the ravine.
162
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
I offered assistance; she ignored it and picked her
own way down the cleft to the stream-side.
"It seems a thousand years since I have seen you/'
she said " What have you been doing all this while?
What are you doing now? Reading? Ohl fishing 1
And can you catch nothing, silly? . . . Give me that
rod. . . . No, I don't want it, after all; let the trout swim
in peace. . . . How pale you have grown, cousin 1"
" You also, Dorothy," I said.
" Oh, I know that ; there's a glass in my room, thank
you. ... I thought I'd come down. . . . There is company
at the house some of Colonel Gansevoort's officers,
Third Regiment of the New York line, if you please,
and two impudent young ensigns of the Half-moon
Regiment, all on their way to Stanwix fort."
She seated herself on the deep moss and balanced
her back against a silver-birch tree.
"They're at the house, all these men," she said;
"and what do you think? General Schuyler and his
lady are to arrive this evening, and I'm to receive them,
dressed in my best tucker! . . . and there may be others
with them, though the General comes on a tour of in-
spection, being anxious lest disorder break out in this
district if he is compelled to abandon Ticonderoga. . . .
What do you think of that George?"
My name fell so sweetly, so confidently, from her
lips that I looked up in warm pleasure and found her
grave eyes searching mine.
"Make it easier for me," she said, in a low voice.
" How can I talk to you if you do not answer me?"
"I I mean to answer, Dorothy," I stammered;
"I am very thankful for your kindness to me."
"Do you think it is hard to be kind to you?" she
murmured. "What happiness if I only might be
kind!" She hid her face in her hands and bowed her
head. "Pay no heed to me," she said; "I I thought
163
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
i could see you and control this rebel tongue of mine.
And here am I with heart insurgent beating the long
roll and every nerve a-quiver with sedition!"
"What are you saying?' 1 protested, miserably.
She dropped her hands from her face and gazed at
me quite cal:
" Saying? I was saying that these rocks are wet,
and that 1 was silly to come down here in my Pompa-
dour shoes and stockings, and I'm silly to stay here,
and I'm going!"
And go she did, up over the moss and rock 1
fawn, and I after her to the top of the bank, where she
seemed vastly surprised to see me.
"Now I pray you choose which way you HUN
stroll," she said, impatient "Here lie two paths,
and I will take this straight and narrow one."
She turned sharply \vith her, and for a 1 >n^
e we walked .^ side by side, exchann
neither word nor glance until at last she stopped short,
seated herself on a mossy log, and touched her hot face
a crumpled bit of lace and cambric.
what, Mr. Longs hanks I" she said
shall go no farther with you unless you talk to me.
Mercy on the lad with his seven-league boots! He
has me breathless and both hat-strings flying and my
shoe -points dragging to trip my heels! Sit down,
sir, till I knot my ribbons under my ear; and I '11 thank
you to tie my shoe-points 1 Not doubled in a sailo
knot, silly! . . . And, oh, cousin, I would I had a sun-
mask! . . . Now you are laughing! Oh, I know you
think me a country hoyden, careless of sunburn and
dust! But I'm not I love a smooth, white skin as
well as any London beau who praises it in verses.
And I shall have one for myself, too. You may see,
to-night, if the Misses Carmichael come with Lady
Schuyler, for we'll have a dance, perhaps, and I mean
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
to paint and patch and powder till you'd swear me a
French marquise! . . . Cousin, this narrow forest path-
way leads across the water back to the house. Shall
we take it? ... You will have to carry me over the
stream, for I'll not wet my shins for love of any man,
mark that!"
She tied her pink hat -ribbons under her chin and
stood up while I made ready ; then I lifted her from the
ground. Very gravely she dropped her arms around
my neck as I stepped into the rushing current and
waded out, the water curling almost to my knee-buckles.
So we crossed the grist-mill stream in silence, eyes
averted from each other's faces ; and in silence, too, we
resumed the straight and narrow path, now deep with
last year's leaves, until we came to a hot, sandy bank
covered with wild strawberries, overlooking the stream.
In a moment she was on her knees, filling her hand-
kerchief with strawberries, and I sat down in the yel-
low sand, eyes following the stream where it sparkled
deep under its leafy screen below.
"Cousin," she said, timidly, "are you displeased ? n
"Why?"
"At my tyranny to make you bear me across the
stream with all your heavier burdens, and my own "
" I ask no sweeter burdens," I replied.
She seated herself in the sand and placed a scarlet
berry between lips that matched it.
" I have tried very hard to talk to you," she said.
"I don't know what to say, Dorothy," I muttered.
** Truly I do desire to amuse you and make you laugh
as once I did. But the heart of everything seems
dead. There! I did not mean that! Don't hide your
face, Dorothy! Don't look like that! I I cannot
bear it. And listen, cousin; we are to be quite hap-
py. I have thought it all out, and I mean to be gay
and amuse you. . . . Won't you look at me, Dorothy?"
165
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Wh why?" she asked, unsteadily.
lust to see how happy I am just to see that I pull
no long faces idiot that I was! . . . Dorothy, will you
smile just once?"
JTd hispered, lifting her head and raising
her wet lashes. Presently tur lips parted in one of
her adorable smiles. "Now t! have made me
weep till my nose is red you may pick me even
berry in sight," she said, winking away the bright
tears. "You have heard of the penance of the Al-
gonquin witch?"
1 kiu \v IK -thing of Northern Indian lore, and I said so.
What? You never heard of the Stonish Giants?
You never heard of the n\ m^ Head? Mercy on the
boy! Sit here and we'll eat strawberries and I shall
tell you tales of the Long House. ... Sit nearer, for I
shall speak in a low voice lest old Atotarho awake
i his long sleep and the dead pines ring hollow,
witch-drums under tin yellow-hammer's double
blows. . . . Are you afra
I whispered, gayly.
"Then listen/' she breathed, rai^inc: one pink-
r "Ti lie tale of the Kight Thim-
. told in tlu oldest tongue of the confederacy and
to all ensigns of the three clans ere the Brians sued for
peace. The: rue.
" Long ago, the Holder of the Heavens made a very
poisonous blue otter, and the Mohawks killed it and
threw its body into the lake. And the Holder of Hi-.
en came to the eastern door of the Long House and
knocked, saying : ' Where is the very poisonous blue
r that I made, Keepers of the Eastern Door?'
A'ho calls?' asked the Mohawks, peeping out to see.
"Then the Holder of the Heavens named hn:
and the Mohawks were afraid and hid in the Long
House, listening.
1 66
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
" ' Be afraid 1 you wise men and sachems ! The
\visclom of a child alone can save you!' said the Holder
of the Heavens. Saying this he wrapped himself in a
bright cloud and went like a swift arrow to the sun."
My cousin's voice had fallen into a low, melodious
sing-song ; her rapt eyes were fixed on me.
" A youth of the Mohawks loved a maid, and they
sat by the lake at night, counting the Dancers in the
sky which we call stars of the Pleiades.
"'One has fallen into the lake/ said the youth.
"'It is the eye of the very poisonous blue otter/ re-
plied the maid, beginning to cry.
"'I see the lost Dancer shining down under the
water/ said the youth again. Then he bade the maid
go back and wait for him ; and she went back and built
a fire and sat sadly beside it. Then she heard some one
coming and turned around. A young man stood there
dressed in white, and with white feathers on his head.
' You are sad/ he said to the maid, ' but we will help
you/ Then he gave her a belt of purple wampum to
show that he spoke the truth.
"Follow/ he said; and she followed to a place in
the forest where smoke rose. There she saw a fire,
and, around it, eight chiefs sitting, with white feathers
on their heads.
" ' These chiefs are the Eight Thunders/ she thought ;
' now they will help me/ And she said : ' A Dancer has
fallen out of the sky and a Mohawk youth has plunged
for it/
" ' The blue otter has turned into a serpent, and the
Mohawk youth beheld her eye under the waters/ they
said, one after the other. The maid wept and laid the
wampum at her feet. Then she rubbed ashes on
her lips and on her breasts and in the palms of her
hands.
" ' The Mohawk youth has wedded the Lake Serpent/
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
they said, one after the other. The maid wept and
S}K ruhlvd ashes on her thighs and on her feet.
Li>u-!!,' iiu \ said, one after a 'take straw-
andgot be, Bbn will know what to do.
When that is done we will conic in the form of a cloud
on the lake, not in the s
"So she found strawberries in the starlight and
went to the lake, calling, 'Friend! 1 am
going away and wish to see y <
" Out on the lake the water began to boil, and
ing out of it she saw her friend. 1 le had a spot on his
forehead and looked like a serpent, and yet like a man.
Then she spread the berries on the shore and I
to the land and ate. Then he went but K i.. il
and placed his lips to the water, drinking. Aiul the
maid saw him going down through the water like a
snake. So she cried, ' Friends! Friends I I am going
away and wish to see you!'
" The lake boiled and her friend came out of it Tin
lake boiled once more; not in one spot alone, but all
like a hii:h sea spouting on a reef.
"Outoi er came her friend's wife, beautiful to
behold and shinnm with silver scales, lln- loQfl
fell all around her, and seemed like silver and ^
When she came ashore she stretched out on the sand
and took a strawberry between her lips. The y<>ung
maid watched the lake until she saw something n
ing on the waters a great way off, which seemed like a
cloud.
In a moment the stars went out and it grew dark,
and it thundered till the skies fell down, torn into i
the terrible 1 _ r . All was still at last, and it
\v lighter The inaid opened her eyes to find herself
in the arms of her friend. But at their feet lay the
dying sparks of a shattered star.
hen as they went back through the woods the eiyht
1 68
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
chiefs passed them in Indian file, and they saw them
rising higher and higher, till they went up to the sky
like mists at sunrise."
Dorothy's voice died away ; she stretched out one arm.
"This is the end, you wise men and sachems,
told since the beginning to us People of the Morning.
Hiro [I have spoken]!"
Then a startling thing occurred ; up from the under-
brush behind us rose a tall Indian warrior, naked to
the waist, painted from belt to brow with terrific, name-
less emblems and signs. I sprang to my feet, horror-
struck; the savage folded his arms, quietly smiling;
and I saw knife and hatchet resting in his belt and a
long rifle on the moss at his feet.
"K6ue! That was a true tale/' he said, in good
English. " It is a miracle that one among you sings
the truth concerning us poor Mohawks."
"Do you come in peace?" I asked, almost stunned.
He made a gesture. " Had I come otherwise, you
had known it ! " I le looked straight at Dorothy. " You
are the patroon's daughter. Does he speak as truth-
fully of the Mohawks as do you?"
"Who are you?" I asked, slowly.
He smiled again. "My name is Brant," he said.
" Joseph Brant ! Thayendanegea ! ' ' murmured Doro-
thy, aloud.
" A cousin of his," said the savage, carelessly. Then
he turned sternly on me. " Tell that man who follows
me that I could have slain him twice within the hour;
once at the ford, once on Stoner's hill. Does he take
me for a deer? Does he believe I wear war-paint?
There is no war betwixt the Mohawks and the Boston
people yet I Tell that fool to go home!"
"What fool?" I asked, troubled.
"You will meet him journeying the wrong way/'
said the Indian, grimly.
160
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
With a quick, guarded motion he picked up his rifle,
turned short, and passed swiftly northward sti Mi-'nt
into the forest, leaving us listening there together
after he had disappeared.
"That chief was Joseph Brant, . . . but he wore no
war-paint," whispered my cousin. " He was painted
for the secret rites of the False-Faces."
" He could have slain us as we sat," I said, bitterly
humiliated.
She looked up at me thoughtfully ; there was not in
face the slightest trace of the deep emotions whieh
had shocked me.
"A tribal fire is lighted somewhere/ 1 she mused.
like Brant do not travel alone unless un-
less he came to consult that witch Calnne Montour,
or to guide her to some national council -fire in tin
Nor
She pondered awhile, and I stood by in silence, niv
heart still heatinir heavily from my astonishment at
tin hideous apparition of a m<> ice.
"Do you know," she said, "that I believe Brant
spoke the truth. There is no \\ as far as
concerns the M ke we saw was a
secret signal ; that hag was scuttling around to col
False-Faces for .1 council. Tlu-v may mean war;
I'm sure they mean it, though Brant won- no \
paint. But war has not yet been declared; it is
scant ceremony when a nation of the Iroquois decides
And if the confederacy declares war
monies may last a fortnight. The False-Faces
must be heard from first A help us! 1
eve their fires are lighted now."
"What ghastly manner of folk are these False-
Faces? I : ked.
"A secret clan, common to all Northern and We
Indians, celebrating secret rites among the six nations
170
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
of the Iroquois. Some say the spectacle is worse than
the orgies of the Dream-feast a frightful sight, truly
hellish ; and yet others say the False-Faces do no harm,
but make merry in secret places. But this I know; if
the False-Faces are to decide for war or peace, they
will sway the entire confederacy, and perhaps every
Indian in North America; for though nobody knows
who belongs to the secret sect, two-thirds of the Mo-
hawks are said to be numbered in its ranks; and a*
go the Mohawks, so goes the confederacy."
"How is it you know all this?" I asked, amazed.
"My playmate was Magdalen Brant," she said.
"Her playmates were pure Mohawk."
" Do you mean to tell me that this painted savage is
kin to that lovely girl who came with Sir John and
the Butlers?" I demanded.
"They are related. And, cousin, this 'painted sav-
age' is no savage if the arts of civilization which he
learned at Dr. Wheelock's school count for anything.
He was secretary to old Sir William. He is an edu-
cated man, spite of his naked body and paint, and the
more to be dreaded, it appears to me. . . . Hark\ See
those branches moving beside the trail 1 There is a
man yonder. Follow me."
On the sandy bank our shoes made little sound, yet
the unseen man heard us and threw up a glittering
rifle, calling out: "Halt! or I fire."
Dorothy stopped short, and her hand fell on my
arm, pressing it significantly. Out into the middle of
the trail stepped a tall fellow clad from throat to ankle
in deer-skin. On his curly head rested a little, round
cap of silvery mole-skin, light as a feather; his leg-
gings' fringe was dyed green ; baldrick, knife-sheath,
bullet - pouch, powder - horn, and hatchet - holster were
deeply beaded in scarlet, white, and black, and bands
of purple porcupine -quills edged shoulder - cape and
171
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
moccasins, around which were painted orange-colored
flowers, each central with a golden bead.
"A forest-runner/' she motioned with her lips, "and,
if I'm not blind, he should answer to the name of
Mount and many crimes, they say/'
The forest-runner stood alert, rifle resting easily in
the hollow of his left arm.
" Who passes?" he called out
" White folk," replied Dorothy, laughing. Then u c
stepped out
," said the forest-runner, lifting his mole-
akin cap with a grin ; " if this is not the pleasan <
sight that has soothed my eyes since we hung that
Tory whelp last Friday and no disrespect to Mistress
Varick, whose father is more patriot than many an-
other I might nan;
" I bid you good-even, Jack Mount," said Dorothy,
smiling.
o you. Mistress Varick/' he said, bowing
deeper; then glanced keenly at me and recognized me
at the same moment. "Has my} rcometi
sir?" he asked, instantly.
"God save our i said, significantly.
" Then I was rij: said, and flushed with pleas-
ure when I offered him my hand.
I am not too free," he muttered, taking my hand
in his great, hard paw, almost affectionately.
>u may walk with us if you jourm-y our way,"
said Dorothy; and the great fellow <1 up beside
her, cap in hand, and it amused me to see him strive
to shorten his strides to hers, so that he presently fell
into a strange gait, half-skip, half-Uxld
" Pray cover yourself," said Dorothy, encouragingly,
and Mount did so, dumb as a Matanzas oyster and
crimson as a boiled sea-crab. Then, doubtless, deem-
ing that gentility required some polite observation, he
172
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
spoke in a high-pitched voice of the balmy weather
and the sweet profusion of birds and flowers, when
there was more like to be a " sweet profusion " of Ind-
ians; and I nigh stifled with laughter to see this lum-
bering, free -voiced forest - runner transformed to a
mincing, anxious, backwoods macaroni at the smile
of a pretty woman.
" Do you bring no other news save of the birds and
blossoms?" asked Dorothy, mischievously. "Tell us
what we all are fearful of. Have the Senecas and
Cayugas risen to join the British?"
Mount stole a glance at me.
"I wish I knew," he muttered.
" We will know soon, now," I said, soberly.
"Sooner, perhaps, than you expect, sir," he said.
" I am summoned to the manor to confer with General
Schuyler on this very matter of the Iroquois."
" Is it true that the Mohawks are in their war-paint?"
asked Dorothy, maliciously.
"Stoner and Timothy Murphy say so," replied
Mount. " Sir John and the Butlers are busy with
the Onondagas and Oneidas; Dominie Kirkland is
doing his best to keep them peaceable ; and our General
played his last cards at their national council We
can only wait and see, Mistress Varick."
He hesitated, glancing at me askance.
"The fact is," he said, "I've been sniffing at moo
casin tracks for the last hour, up hill, down dale, o
the ford, where I lost them, then circled and picked
them up again on the moss a mile below the bridge.
If I read them right, they were Mohawk tracks and
made within the hour, and how that skulking brute
got away from me I cannot think."
He looked at us in an injured manner, for we were
striving not to smile.
"I'm counted a good tracker," He muttered. Tin
173
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
as good as Walter Butler or Tim Murphy, and my
friend, the Weasel, now with Morgan's nt: no
keener forest-runner than am I. Oh, I do not mean
to brag, or say I can match my cunning against such
a human bloodhound as Joseph Brant."
He paused, in hurt surprise, for we were laughing.
And then I told him of the Indian and what message
he had sent by us, and Mount listened, red as a j j ;
LMi.tum^ Ins lip.
I am glad to know it/' he said. "This will IK
1 news to General SchuyKr, I have no doubt. L<
but it makes me mad to think how close to Brant 1
stood and could not drill his painted hide!"
!e spared you," I said.
"That is his affair," muttered Mount, striding on
" There speaks the obstinate white man, who can see
no good in any savage," whispered Dorothy. " Noth-
ing an Indian does is riirht or generous; these forest-
runners hate them, distrust them, fear them though
y may deny it and kill all they can. And you
may argue all day with an Indian-hater and have
your trouble to pay you. Yet I have heard that this
man Mount is brave and generous to enemies of his
own col
We had now come to the road in front of the
house, and Mount set his cap rakishly on his head,
straightened cape and baldrick, and ran his fingers
tli rough the gorgeous thrums rippling from sleeve and
barter a month's pay for a pot o' beer," he said
to me, "I learned to drink serving with Cresap's
riflemen e*. the siege of Boston; a godless compa
tor an innocent man to fall among. But Morga
rifles are worse, Mr. Ormond ; they drink no water save
when it rain in their gin toddy."
174
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
"Sir Lupus says you tried to join them/' said Doro-
thy, to plague him.
" So I did, Mistress Varick, so I did/' he stammered';
"to break 'em o' their habits, ma'am. Trust me, if
I had that corps I'd teach 'em to let spirits alone if I
had to drink every drop in camp to keep 'em sober!"
"There's beer in the buttery," she said, laughing;
" and if you smile at Tulip she'll see you starve not."
"Nobody," said I, "goes thirsty or hungry at Var-
ick Manor."
"Indeed, no," said Dorothy, much amused, as old
Cato came down the path, hat in hand. " Here, Catol
do you take Captain Mount and see that he is com-
fortable and that he lacks nothing."
So, standing together in the stockade gateway, we
watched Cato conducting Mount towards the quarters
behind the guard-house, then walked on to meet the
children, who came dancing down the driveway to
greet us.
"Dorothy! Dorothy!" cried Cecile, "we've shaved
candles and waxed the library floors. Lady Schuyler
is here and the General and the Carmichael girls we
knew at school, and their cousin, Maddaleen Dirck,
and Christie McDonald and Marguerite Haldimand
cousin to the Tory general in Canada and "
"I'm to walk a minuet with Madge Haldimand!"
broke in Ruyven ; " will you lend me your gold stock-
buckle, Cousin Ormond?"
" I mean to dance, too," cried Harry, crowding up to
pluck my sleeve. "Please, Cousin Ormond, lend me
a lace handkerchief."
"Paltz Clavarack, of the Half -moon Regiment,
asked me to walk a minuet," observed Cecile, tossing
her head. " I'm sure I don't know what to say. He's
so persistent."
Benny's clamor broke out : " Thammy thtole papath
175
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
betht thnuff-boxth! Thammy thtole papath bclht
thnuff-boxth!"
" Sammy I 1 ' cried Dorothy, " what did you steal your
father's best snuff-box for?"
I only desired to offer snuff to General Schuyler,"
said Sammy, sullenly, amid a roar of laughter
"We're to dine at eight I Everybody is dressing;
come on, Dorothy!" cried Cecile. "Mr. Clavarack
vowed he'd perish if I kept him waiting '
"You should see the escort I" said Ruyven to me.
" Dragoons, cousin, in leather helmets and jack-boots,
and all wearing new sabres taken from the Hessian
cavalry. They're in the quarters with Tim Murphy,
of Morgan's, and. Lord! how thirsty they appear to
be!"
"There's the handsomest man I ever saw/' rnurmuml
Cecile to Dorothy, "Captain O'Neil, of the New York
iiiu lie's dying to see you; he said so to Mr. Clav-
arack, and I heard hi-
Dorothy looked up with heightened color.
" Will you walk the minuet with me, Dorothy?" 1
whispered.
looked down, faintly smiling:
"Perhaps/' she said.
"That is no answer," I retorted, surprised and hurt
1 know it," she said, demurely.
"Then answer me, Doroti
She looked at me so gravely that I could not be cer-
tain whether it was pretence or earnest.
" I am hostess/' she said ; " I belong to my guests.
If my duties prevent my walking the minuet with you,
I shall find a suitable partner for you, cousin
"And no doubt for yourself/' I retorted, irritated to
rudeness.
Surprise and disdain were in her eyes. Her raised
brows and cool smile boded me no good.
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS
"I thought I was free to choose/' she said, serenely.
"You are, and so am I," I said. "Will you have
me for the minuet?"
We paused in the hallway, facing each other.
She gave me a dangerous glance, biting her tip in
silence.
And, the devil possessing me, I said, "For the last
time, will you take me?"
" No!" she said, under her breath. " You have your
answer now."
"I have my answer," I repeated, setting my teeth.
xn
THE GHOST-RING
I HAD bathed and dressed me in my best suit of pale-
lilac silk, with flapped waistcoat of primrose
u ith gold, and Cato was powdering my hair ; when
Lupus waddled in, magnificent in scarlet ,md \\1.
and smelling to heaven of French perfume and poma-
tum.
"Georgel" he cried, in his brusque, explosive fash-
I like Schuyler, and I care n.-t \\lio knows n!
Dammy! I was cool enough with him and his lady
when they arrived, but he played Valentine to my
Orson till I gave up; yes, I did, George, I capitulated.
Says he, 'Sir Lupus, if a painful misunderstanding
has kept us old neighbors from an exchange of civili-
ties, I trust di (Terences may be forgotten in this graver
I, In our social stratum there is but one great
of cleavage now, opened by the convulsions of
sir."
1 >amn the convulsions of wa
"'Quite right/ says he, mildly; 'war is always
damnal Lupus/
"'General Schuyler/ says I, 'there is no nonsense
about me. You and L^dy Schuyler are under my
roof, and you are welcome, whatever opinion you en-
tertain of me and my fashion of living. I understand
perfectly that this visit is not a visit of ceremony from
i^hbor, but a military necessity.
-ir Lupus/ says Lady Schuyler, 'had it been
178
THE GHOST-RING
only a military necessity I should scarcely have ac-
companied the General and his guests/
"Madam/ says I, 'it is commonly reported that I
offended the entire aristocracy of Albany when I had
Sir John Johnson's sweetheart to dine with them. And
for that I have been ostracized. For which ostracism,
madam, I care not a brass farthing. And, madam,
were I to dine all Albam^ to-night, I should not ignore
my old neighbors and friends, the Putnams of Tribes
Hill, to suit the hypocrisy of a few strangers from Al-
bany. Right is right, madam, and decency is decency 1
And I say now that to honest men Claire Putnam is
Sir John's wife by every law of honor, decency, and
chivalry ; and I shall so treat her in the face of a rotten
world and to the undying shame of that beast, Sir John !'
" Whereupon would you believe it, George? Schuy-
ler took both my hands in his and said my conduct
honored me, and more of the same sort o' tiling, and
Lady Schuyler gave me her hand in that sweet, stately
fashion; and,dammy! I saluted her finger-tips. Heav-
en knows how I found it possible to bend my waist,
but I did, George. And there's an end to the whole
matter!"
He took snuff, blew his nose violently, snapped his
gold snuff-box, and waddled to the window, where, be-
low, in the early dusk, torches and rush-lights burned,
illuminating the cavalry horses tethered along their
picket-rope, and the trooper on guard, pacing his beat,
musket shining in the wavering light.
"That escort will be my undoing/' he muttered.
" Folk will dub me a partisan now. Dammy I a man
under my roof is a guest, be he Tory or rebel. I do
but desire to cultivate my land and pay my debts of
honor; and I'll stick to it till they leave me in peace or
hang me to my barn door!"
And he toddled out, muttering and fumbling with his
179
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Bnuff-box, bidding nie h ind not keep them wait
ing dinner.
I stood before the mirror with its lighted sconces,
gazing grimly at my solx: \hilc Cato lied
ibbon and dusted nr coat-skirts. Then
1 fastened the brilliant buckle under mv chin, shook
out the deep, soft lace at throat and wristband, and
took my small-sword from Cato.
"Mars' George," murmured the old man, "yo' look
lak yo 1 is gwine wed wif mah li'l Miss Dorry."
I stared at him ann What put that into your
head
!;inno f suh ; hit drss l>ok dat-a-way to me, suh."
"You're a fool," I said, sharply.
"No, suh, I ain' no fool, Mars' George. I done aee
de sign I Yaas, suh, I done see de sign."
"What m*.-:
old man chuckled, looked slyly at my left hand,
then chuckled again.
"Mars' George, yo' is wearin' yo' weddirf - rim;
now!"
* A ring 1 There is no ring on my hand, you rascal I"
I said.
" Yaas, suh ; dey sho' is, Mars' George," he insisted,
still chuckling.
ell you I never wear a ring/' I said, ini|viti
'"Scuse me, Mars' George, suh/' he said, hum
Mv. And, lifting my left hand, laid it in his wrinkled,
black palm, peering closely. I also looked, and saw
at the base of my third linger a circle like the mark
left by a wedding-rim:
iat is strantf \vore a rinp in all
"Das de sign, suh," muttered the old man; "das de
Onnond sign, suh. Yo' pap wore de an'
his pap wore it too, suh. All de Ormonds done wore
180
THE GHOST-RING
de ghos'-ring fore dey wus wedded. Hit arn dess
dat-a-way, Mars' George "
He hesitated, looking up at me with gentle, dim
"Miss Dorry, suh "
He stopped short, then dropped his voice to a whis-
per.
' Tore Miss Dorry git up outen de baid, suh, I done
tote de bre'kfus in de mawnin'. An' de fustest word
dat lil Miss Dorry say, 'Cato,' she say, 'whar Mars'
George?' she say. 'He 'roun' de yahd, Miss Dorry/
I say. ' Tears lak he gettin' mo' res less an' mis'blf,
Miss Dorry.'
"'Cato,' she low, 'I spec' ma' haid gwine ache *1
I lie hyah in dishyere baid mo'n two free day. Whar
ma' milk an' co'n pone, Cato?'
" So I des sot de salver down side de baid, suh, an'
lil Miss Dorry she done set up in de baid, suh, an' hole
out one lil bare arm "
He laid a wrinkled finger on his lips; his dark face
quivered with mystery and emotion.
"One lil bare arm," he repeated, "an 'I seede sign!"
"What sign?" I stammered.
"De bride-sign on de ring-finger! Yaas, suh. An'
I say, 'Whar yo' ring, Miss Dorry?' An' she low
ain' nebber wore no ring. An' I say, 'Whar dat rin^,
Miss Dorry?'
"Den Miss Dorry look kinder queer, and rub de
ghos'-ring on de bridal-finger.
"'What dat?' she low.
"'Dasser ghos'-ring, honey.'
"Den she rub an' rub, but, bless yo' heart, Mars'
George! she dess natch ly gwine wear dat pink ghos'-
ring twill yo' slip de bride-ring on. . . . Mars' George!
Honey! What de matter, chile? ... Is you a- weeping
Mars' George?"
l&l
THE MAID-AT ARMS
"Oh, Cato, Catot" I choked, dropping my head on
his shoulder.
* What dey do to mah Til Mars' George?" he said,
soothingly. "'Spec' SOUR one done git saucy! Huh!
Who care? Dar de sign! Dar de ghos'-ring! M
George, yo' is dess boun' to wed, suh! Miss Dorry,
she dess boun' to wed, too "
"But not with me, Cato, not with me. There's
another man coming for Miss Dorry, Cato. She has
promised hi
"Who dat?" he cried. " How come dishyere gh> -i-
roun yo' weddin '-finger?"
I don't know," I said; "the chance pressure
ruling-glove, perhaps. It will fade away, Cato, this
gh<> as you call it . . . ( iive me that rag
dust tlu-}H)udiraway, Cato. . . . Th railing;
>u see, you rascal? . . . And tell Tulip she is
"What dat foolish wench done tole you?" he ex-
elaimed, wrathfully.
But I only shook my head imjutiently and walked
Down the hallway I halted in tin- liuht of the.
sconces and looked at the strange mark on my linger
It was plainly "A tight glove, ' i muttered,
walked on towards the stairs.
ic floor below came a breezy buzz d
laughter, the snap of i is spreading, the whi*k
and rustle of petticoats. I leaned a morm the
rail uh:eh circled the stair -gallery and looked down
Unaccustomed cleanliness and wax and candle-
light made a pretty background for all this powdered
and silken cornpanv swarming below. The servants
children had gathered ground-pine to festoon the
walls; stair-rail, bronze cannon, pict :<>phies,
and windows were all bright with the aromatic gr
foliage; enormous bunches of peonies perfumed trie
182
THE GHOST-RING
house, and everywhere masses of yellow and white
elder-bloom and swamp-marigold brightened the cor-
ners.
Sir Lupus, standing in the hallway with a tall gen-
tleman who wore the epaulets and the buff -and- blue
uniform of a major-general, beckoned me, and I de-
scended the stairs to make the acquaintance of that
noblest and most generous of soldiers, Philip Schuyler.
He held my hand a moment, scrutinizing me with kind-
ly eyes, and, turning to Sir Lupus, said, " There are
few men to whom my heart surrenders at sight, but
your young kinsman is one of the few, Sir Lupus/'
" He's a good boy, General, a brave lad," mumbled
Sir Lupus, frowning to hide his pride. "A bit quick
at conclusions, perhaps eh, George?"
" Too quick, sir," I said, coloring.
"A fault you have already repaired by confession/'
said the General, with his kindly smile. " Mr. Ormond,
I had the pleasure of receiving Sir George Covert the
day he left for Stanwix, and Sir George mentioned
your desire for a commission/'
" I do desire it, sir," I said, quickly.
" Have you served, Mr. Ormond?" he asked, gravely.
" I have seen some trifling service against the Florida
savages, sir."
"As officer, of course/'
"As officer of our rangers, General."
"You were never wounded?"
"No, sir; ... not severely/'
"Oh! ... not severely."
"No, sir."
"There are some gentlemen of my acquaintance/*
said Schuyler, turning to Sir Lupus, " who might take
a lesson in modesty from Mr. Ormond."
"Yes," broke out Sir Lupus "that pompous ass,
Gates."
183
THE MAID-AT-ARMs
"General Gates is a loyal soldier," said Schuykr.
grav
" Who the devil cares?" fumed Sir Lupus. " I call
a spade a spade! And I say he is at the head of th.it
infamous cabal which seeks to disgrace you. Don't
tell ' Tin an older man than you, sir! I've a
right to say it, and I do. Gates is an envious ass,
and unfit to hold your stirrup I"
"This is a painful matter," said SchuvK r, in a low
voice. "Indiscreet friendship may make it worse. 1
regard General Gates as a patriot and a brother soldier.
. . . Pray let us choose a gayer topic nds."
His manner was so noble, his courtesy so charming,
that there was no sting in his snub to Sir Lupus. Even
I had heard of the ymanng jealousies and intrigues
which had made Schuyler 's life miserable charges
of incompetency, of indifference, of corruption nay,
some wretched creatures who sought to push Gates
into Sthuyler's command even hinted at cowardice
and treason. And none could doubt that Gates knew
it and encouraged it, for he had publicly spoken of
Schuyler in slighting and c< uous terms.
Yet the gentleman whose honor had been the target
for these slanderers never uttered one word against
his traducers: and, when a friend asked him whether
he was too proud to defend himself, replied, seren-
"Not too proud, but too sensible to spread discord in
my country's army."
"Lady Schuyler desires to know you," said the
General, "for I see her fan-signal, which I always
obey." And he laid his arm on mine as a fatfu-r
might, and led me across the room to where Doro
stood with Lady Schuvk>r on lu r rierht, surrounded by
a bevy of bright-eyed girls and gay young officers.
Dorothy presented me in a quiet voice, and I bowed
vtty low to Lady Schuyler, who made me an old-time
THE GHOST-RING
reverence, gave me her fingers to kiss, and spoke most
kindly to me, inquiring about my journey, and how
I liked this Northern climate.
Then Dorothy made me known to those near her,
to the pretty Carmichael twins, whose black eyes
brimmed purest mischief; to Miss Haldimand, whose
cold beauty had set the Canadas aflame; and to others
of whom I have little recollection save their names,
Christie McDonald and Lysbet Dirck, two fashionable
New York belles, kin to the Schuylers.
As for the men, there was young Paltz Clavarack, en-
sign in the Half-moon Regiment, very fine in his orange-
faced uniform; and there was Major Harrow, of the
New York line; and a jolly, handsome dare-devil,
Captain Tully O'Neil, of the escort of horse, who hung
to Dorothy's skirts and whispered things that made
her laugh. There were others, too, aides in new uni-
forms, a medical officer, who bustled about in the r61e
of everybody's friend; and a parcel of young subal-
terns, very serious, very red, and very grave, as though
the destiny of empires reposed in their blue-and-gold
despatch pouches.
" I wonder," murmured Dorothy, leaning towards me
and speaking behind her rose-plumed fan "I won-
der why I answered you so."
" Because I deserved it," I muttered.
"Cousin! Cousin!" she said, softly, "you deserve
all I can give all that I dare not give. You break
my heart with kindness."
I stepped to her side ; all around us rose the hum of
voices, laughter, the click of spurs, the soft sounds of
silken gowns on a polished floor.
"It is you who are kind to me, Dorothy," I whis-
pered. " I know I can never have you, but you must
never doubt my constancy. Say you will not?"
"Hush!" she whispered; "come to the dining-hall;
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
I must look at the table to see that all is well done.
and there is nobody there. ... We can talk t!u
slipped off through the throng, and I sunn
nit.) the gun-room, from whence I crossed the halhv
and entered the dining-hall. Dorothy stood inspecting
the silver and linen, and giving orders to Cato in a l>w
voice. Then she dismissed the row of servants am'
sat down in a leather chair, resting her forehead in
her hanfjjt.
" Deary me! Deary me!" she murmured, "how my
brain whirls! ... I would I were abed! ... I would T
were dead! . . . What was it you said concerning con-
stancy? Oh, I remember; I am never to doubt your
constancy. She raised her fair head from between
her lyiriHit,
" Promise you will never doubt it," I whispered.
"I I never will," she said. "Ask me again fot
the minuet, dear. I I refused everybody for you."
" Will you walk it with me, Doroth
-Yes yes, indeed! I told them all I must wait till
you asked me."
"Good heavens!" I said, laughing nervously, "you
didn't Ull them that, did you?"
She bent her lovely face, and I saw the smile in
her eyes glimmering through unshed tears.
" Yes ; I told them that Captain O'Neil protests he
means to call you out and run you through. And I
said you would probably cut off his queue and tir him
up by his spurs if he presumed to any levity. Then
he said he'd tell Sir George Covert, and I said I'd
him myself and everybody else that I loved my cousin
Ormond better than anybody in the world and meant
to wed him "
'I gasped.
"Wed him to the most beautiful and lovely and
desirable maid in America
THE GHOST-RING
"And who is that, if it be not yourself?" I asked,
amazed.
" It's Maddaleen Dirck, the New York heiress, Lys-
bet's sister; and you are to take her to table."
"Dorothy/' I said, angrily, "you told me that you
desired me to be faithful to my love for you!"
"I do! Oh, I do!" she said, passionately. "But
it is wrong; it is dreadfully wrong. To be safe we
must both wed, and then God knows! we cannot
in honor think of one another."
" It will make no difference," I said, savagely.
"Why, of course, it will!" she insisted, in astonish-
ment. "We shall be married."
" Do you suppose love can be crushed by marriage?"
I asked.
"The hope of it can."
"It cannot, Dorothy."
"It must be crushed '" she exclaimed, flushing scar-
let. " If we both are tied by honor, how can we hope?
Cousin, I think I must be mad to say it, but I never see
you that I do not hope. We are not safe, I tell you,
spite of all our vows and promises. . . . You do not need
to woo me, you do not need to persuade me! Ere you
could speak I should be yours, now, this very mo-
ment, for a look, a smile were it not for that pale
spectre of my own self which rises ever before me,
stern, inexorable, blocking every path which leads to
you, and leaving only that one path free where the
sign reads ' honor. ' . . . And I I am sometimes fright-
ened lest, in an overwhelming flood of love, that sign
be torn away and no spectre of myself rise to confront
me, barring those paths that lead to you. . . . Don't
touch me ; Cato is looking at us. ... He's gone. . . . Wait,
do not leave me. ... I have been so wretched and un-
happy. ... I could scarce find strength and heart to
let them dress me, thinking on your face when I an-
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
swered you so cruelly. . . . Oh, cousin' where are our
vou ' Where are the solemn promises we made
never to speak of love? . . . Lovers make promises like
that in story-books and keep them, too, and die sane
tified, blessing one another and mounting on radiant
wings to heaven. . . . Where I should find no hea
save in you 1 Ah, God I that is the most terrible. Th 1 1
takes my heart away to die and wake to find myself
still his wife to live through all eternity without you
and no hope of you no hope! . . . For I could be pa-
tient through this earthly life, losing my youth and
yours forever, . . . but not after death) No, no! I
cannot . . . Better hell with you than endless heir
with him) . . . Don't speak to me. . . . Take your hand
from my hand. . . . Can you not see that I mean notlr
of what I say that I do not know what 1 am saying?
I must go back ; I am hostess a happy one, as you
perceive. . . . Will I never learn to curb my tongue?
You must forget every word I uttered do you hear
me?"
She sprang up in her rustling silks and took a dozen
steps towards the door, then turned.
"Do you hear me?" she &i I bid you remember
every word I uttered every word!"
She was gone, leaving me staring at the flowers and
silver and the clustered lights. But I saw them i
for before my eyes floated the vision of a slender hand,
and on the wedding-finger I saw a faint, rosy circle, as
I had seen it there a moment since, when Dorothy drop-
ped her bare arms on the cloth and laid her head be-
tween them.
So it was true; whether for good or ill my cousin
wore the ghost -ring which for ages, Cato says, we
Ormonds have worn before the marriage-ring. There
was Ormond blood in Dorothy. Did she wear the
as prophecy for that ring Sir George should wed
THE GHOST-RING
with? I dared not doubt it and yet, why did I also
wear the sign?
Then in a flash the forgotten legend of the Maid-
at-Arms came back to me, ringing through my ears
in clamorous words:
" Serene, 'mid love's alarms,
For all time shall the Maids-at-Arms,
Wearing the ghost-ring, triumph with their constancy!"
I sprang to the door in my excitement and stared
At the picture of the Maid-at-Arms.
Sweetly the violet eyes of the maid looked back at
me, her armor glittered, her soft throat seemed to swell
with the breath of life.
Then I crept nearer, eyes fixed on her wedding-fin-
ger. And I saw there a faint rosy circle as though a
golden ring had pressed the snowy flesh.
XIII
THE MAID-AT-ARM8
I REMEMBER litUe of that dinner save that it dif-
1 fered vastly from the quarrelsome carousal at whi.-h
the Johnsons and Butlers figured in so sinister a r61c,
and at which the Glencoe captains d 1 them-
selves. But now, if the patroon's wine lent new color
to the fair faces round me, there was no \\ laugh-
ter, nothing of brutal license. Healths were given
and drunk with all the kindly ceremony to which I
had been accustomed. At times pattering gusts of
hand-clapping followed some popular toast, such as
"Our New Flag," to which General SchuyK ided
in perfect taste, veiling the deep emotions that tin
toast stirred in many with graceful allegory tem-
pered by modesty and self-restraint.
At the former dinner I had had for my neighl>>rs
Dorothy and Magdalen Brant. Now I sat between
Miss Haldimand and Maddaleen Dink, \\h-.m I had
for partner, a pretty little tiling, who peppered
conversation with fashionable New York phrases and
spiced the intervals with And I remember
she assured me that New York was the only city fit
to live in and that she should never survive a i
longed transportation from that earthly paradise of
gance and fashion. Which made me itch to go tht
I think, without meaning any un kindness, that
Miss Haldimand, the Canadian beauty, was some-
what surprised that I had not already fallen a victim
190
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
to her lovely presence ; but, upon reflection, set it down
to my stupidity; for presently she devoted her conver-
sation exclusively to Ruyven, whose delight and grati-
tude could not but draw a smile from those who ob-
served him. I saw Cecile playing the maiden's game
with young Paltz Clavarack, and Lady Schuyler on
Sir Lupus's right, charmingly demure, faintly amused,
and evidently determined not to be shocked by the free
bluntness of her host.
The mischievous Carmichae: twins had turned the
batteries of their eyes on two solemn, faultlessly dressed
subalterns, and had already reduced them to the verge
of capitulation ; and busy, bustling Dr. Sleeper cracked
witticisms with all who offered him the fee of their at-
tention, and the dinner went very well.
Radiant, beautiful beyond word or thought, Doro-
thy sat, leaning back in her chair, and the candle-light
on the frosty-gold of her hair and on her bare arms
and neck made of her a miracle of celestial loveliness.
And it was pleasant to see the stately General on her
right bend beside her with that grave gallantry which
young girls find more grateful than the privileged
badinage of old beaus. At moments her sweet eyes
stole towards me, and always found mine raised to
greet her with that silent understanding which brought
the faintest smile to her quiet lips. Once, above the
melodious hum of voices, the word "war" sounded
distinctly, and General Schuyler said:
" In these da} T s of modern weapons of precision and
long range, conflicts are doubly deplorable. In the
times of the old match-locks and blunderbusses and
unwieldly weapons weighing more than three times
what our modern light rifles weigh, there was little
chance for slaughter. But now that we have our
deadly flint-locks, a battle-field will be a sad spectacle.
Bunker Hill has taught the whole world a lesson
191
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
that might not be in vain if it incites us to rid the earth
of this wicked frenzy men call war."
"General, " said Sir Lupus, "if weapons were twenty
es as quick and deadly which is, of course, impos-
sible, thank God! there would always be enough men
in the world to get up a war, and enjoy it, tool"
" I do not lik believe that," said Schuyler, si nil-
ing.
"Wait and see/' muttered the patroon. "I'd
to live a hundred years hence, just to prove I in riuht. "
" I should rather not live to see it," said the General,
with a iwinklc in his small, grave eyes.
I lun quietly the last healths were given and pledged;
Dorothy rose, and we all stood while she and Lady
Schuyler passed out, followed by the other ladies; and
I had to restrain I \uyven, who had made plans to fol-
low Marguerite Haldimand. Thru we men K
once more over our port and walnuts, conversing fn
while the fiddles and bassoons tuned up fr< > ill-
way, and General Schuyler told us pleasantly as much
of the military situation as he desired us to know. A
it did amuse me to observe the solemn subalterns nod-
ding all like wise young owlets, as though they could,
if they only dared, reveal secrets that would astonish
the General himself.
Snuff was passed, offered, and accepted with cere-
mony befitting ; spirits replaced the port, but '
Schuyler drank sparingly, and his well-trained M
perforce followed his example. So that wi me
time to rejoin our ladies there was no evidence of
wandering legs, no amiably vacant laughter, no loud
Yokes to strike the postprandial discord at the da
or at the card-tables.
"How did I conduct, cousin " whispered Ruyven,
arm in arm with me as we entered the long drawing-
room. And my response pleasing him, he made off
192
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
straight towards Marguerite Haldimand, who viewed
his joyous arrival none too cordially, I thought. Poor
Ruyven! Must he so soon close the gate of Eden
behind him? leaving forever his immortal boyhood
sleeping amid the never-fading flowers.
It was a fascinating and alarming spectacle to see
Sir Lupus walking a minuet with Lady Schuyler, and
I marvelled that the gold buttons on his waistcoat
did not fly off in volleys when he strove to bend what
once, perhaps, had been his waist.
Ceremony dictated what we had both forgotten, and
General Schuyler led out Dorothy, who, scarlet in
her distress, looked appealingly at me to see that 1
understood. And I smiled back to see her sweet face
brighten with gratitude and confidence and a promise
to make up to me what the stern rule of hospitality
had deprived us of.
So it was that I had her for the Sir Roger de Cover-
ley, and after that for a Delaware reel, which all danced
with a delightful abandon, even Miss Haldimand un-
bending like a goddess surprised to find a pleasure
in our mortal capers. And it was a pretty sight to
see the ladies pass, gliding daintily under th arch of
glittering swords, led by Lady Schuyler and Dorothy
in laughing files, while the fiddle-bows whirred, and
the music of bassoon and hautboys blended and ended
in a final mellow crash. Then breathless voices rose,
and skirts swished and French heels tapped the pol-
ished floor and solemn subalterns stalked about seek-
ing ices and lost buckles and mislaid fans ; and a faint
voice said, "Oh!" when a jewelled garter was found,
and a very red subaltern said, " Honi soit!" and every-
body laughed.
Presently I missed the General, and, a moment later,
Dorothy. As I stood in the hallway, seeking for her,
came Cecile, crying out that they were to have pictures
" 193
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
and charades, and that General Schuyler, who was to
be a judge, awaited me in the tfun-room.
The door of the gun-room was closed. I tapped and
General sat at the mahogany table, leaning
back in his arm-chair; opposite sat Dorothy, bare rl
bows on the table, fingers clasped. Standing by the
General, arms folded, Jack Mount loomed a colossal
figure in his beaded buckskins.
"Ah, Mr. Onnond!" said the General, as I closed
the door quietly behind me; "pray be seated. They
are to have pictures and charades, you ki. hall
not keep Miss Dorothy and yourself very long."
I seated myself beside Dorothy, exchanging a smile
with Mount
"Now," said the General, dropping his voice to a
lower tone, " what was it you saw in the forest to-day ?"
So Mount had already reported the apparition of the
painted savage!
I luld what I had seen, describing tin' Indian in de-
tail, and repeating word for word his warning message
to Mount
The General looked inquiringly at Dorothy. " I un-
derstand," he said, " that you know as much about
the Iroquois as the Iroquois do themselves."
"I think I do/' she said, simply.
"May I ask how you acquired your knowledge,
Miss Dorothy?"
4 There have always been Iroquois villages along
our boundary until last spring, when the Mohawks
with Guy Johnson," she said. "I have always
played with Iroquois children; I went to school with
Magdalen Brant. I taught among our Mohawks and
Oneidas when I was thirteen. Thm I \v, ted
by sachems and I learned what the witch-drums say,
and I need use no signs in the six languages or the
194
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
clan dialects, save only when I speak with the Lenni-
Lenape. Maybe, too, the Hurons and Algonquins
have words that I know not, for many Tuscaroras do
not understand them save by sign."
" I wish that some of my interpreters had your knowl-
edge, or a fifth of it," said the General, smiling. " Tell
me, Miss Dorothy, who was that Indian and what did
that paint mean?"
"The Indian was Joseph Brant, called Thayen-
danegea, which means, 'He who holds many peo-
ples together/ or, in plainer words, 'A bundle of
sticks/'
"You are certain it was Brant?"
"Yes. He has dined at this table with us. He is
an educated man." She hesitated, looking down
thoughtfully at her own reflection in the polished table.
"The paint he wore was not war-paint. The signs
on his body were emblems of the secret clan called the
'False-Faces/'
The General looked up at Jack Mount.
"What did Stoner say?" he asked.
"Stoner reports that all the Iroquois are making
ready for some unknown rite, sir. He saw pyramids
of flat river-stones set up on hills and he saw smoke
answering smoke from the Adirondack peaks to the
Mayfield hills."
" What did Timothy Murphy observe?" asked Schuy-
ler, watching Mount intently.
" Murphy brings news of their witch, Catrine Mon-
tour, sir. He chased her till he dropped like all the
rest of us but she went on and on a running, hopl
tap! hopl tap! and patter, patter, patter! It stirs my
hair to think on her, and I'm no coward, sir. We call
her 'The Toad- woman."
" I'll make you chief of scouts if you catch her," said
the General, sharply.
195
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Very good, sir/' replied Mount, pulling a wry face,
which made us all laugh
'It has been reported to me," said the General,
quietly, "that the Butlers, father and son, are in this
county to attend a secret council ; and that, with the
help of Catrine Montour, they expect to carry the Mo-
hawk nation with them as well as the Cayugas and
the Scnecas.
lias further been reported to me by the Pal
scout that the Onondagas are wavering, that the Oiu i
das are disposed to stand our friends, that the Tusca-
roras are anxious to remain ncui
"Now, within a few days, news has reached me that
these three doubtful nations are to be persuaded by
an unknown woman who is, they say, the prophetess
of the False-Faces."
! K paused, looking straight at Dorothy
<>m your knowledge," he said, slowly, "tell rue
\sh< is this unknown woman
" Do you not kno\\ asked, simply.
" Yes, I think I do, child. It is Magdalen Brant."
" Yes," she said, quietly ; " from childhood she stood
as prophetess of the False-Faces. She is an educated
girl, sweet, lovable, honorable, and sincere. She has
been petted by the fine ladies of New York, of Phila-
delphia, of Albany. Yet she is partly Moha
"Not that charming girl whom I had to dm
I cried, astonished.
"Yes, cousin," she said, tranquilly. " You are sur-
prised? Why? You should see, as I have seen, pu-
from Dr. Wheelock's school return to tluir tribes
and, in a summer, sink to the level of the painted sa-
chem, every vestige of civilization vanished with the
knowledge of the tongue that taught
I have seen that," said Schuyler, frown i
"And I by your leave, sir I have seen it, tool"
196
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
said Mount, savagely. "There may be some virtue
in the rattlesnake; some folk eat 'em! But there is
none in an Indian, not even stewed "
"That will do/' said the General, ignoring the grim
jest. " Do you speak the Iroquois tongues, or any of
them?" he asked, wheeling around to address me.
"I speak Tuscarora, sir/' I replied. "The Tusca-
roras understand the other five nations, but not the
Hurons or Algonquins."
"What tongue is used when the Iroquois meet?" he
asked Dorothy.
" Out of compliment to the youngest nation they use
the Tuscarora language," she said.
The General rose, bowing to Dorothy with a charm-
ing smile.
" I must not keep you from your charades any
longer," he said, conducting her to the door and
thanking her for the great help and profit he had de-
rived from her knowledge of the Iroquois.
He had not dismissed us, so we awaited his return ;
and presently he appeared, calm, courteous, and walked
up to me, laying a kindly hand on my shoulder.
"I want an officer who understands Tuscarora and
who has felt the bite of an Indian bullet," he said,
earnestly.
I stood silent and attentive.
"I want that officer to find the False-Faces' council-
fire and listen to every word said, and report to me. I
want him to use every endeavor to find this woman,
Magdalen Brant, and use every art to persuade her to
throw all her influence with the Onondagas, Oneidas,
and Tuscaroras for their strict neutrality in this com-
ing war. The service I require may be dangerous
and may not. I do not know. Are you ready, Captain
Ormond?"
"Ready, sir!" I said, steadily.
197
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
He drew a parchment from his breast-pocket and
it in my hands. It was my commission in the armies
of the United States of America as captain in UK militia
battalion of Morgan's regiment of riflemen, and signed
by our Governor, George Clinton.
"Do you accept this commission, Mr. Ormond?' he
asked, regarding me pleasantly.
"I do, sir."
Sir Lupus's family Bible lay on the window
the General bade Mount fetch it, and he did so. The
General placed it before me, and I laid my hand upon
it, looking him in the face. Then, in a low voice, he
administered the oath, and I replied slowly but clearly,
ending, "So help me God," and kissed the Book.
"Sit down, sir/' said the General; and when I was
seated he told me how the Continental Congress in
July of 1775 had established three Indian depart-
ments; how that he, as chief commissioner of this
Northern department, which included the Six Nations
of the Iroquois confederacy, had summoned the na-
tional council, first at German Flatts, then at Albany;
how he and the Reverend Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Dean
had done all that could be done to keep the Iroquois
neutral, but that they had not fully prevailed against
the counsels of Guy Johnson and Brant, though the
venerable chief of the Mohawk upper castle had seemed
inclined to neutrality. He told me of General Hi
mer's useless conference with Brant at Unadilla, where
thai had declared that "The King of England's
belts were still lodged with the Mohawks, and that the
Mohawks could >late their pledges."
I think we have lost the Mohawks," said the Gen-
eral, thoughtfully. "Perhaps also the Senecas and
Cayugas; for this she -devil, Catrine Montour, is a
Huron-Seneca, and her nation will follow her. But,
if we can hold the three other nations back, it will be
198
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
a vast gain to our cause not that I desire or would
permit them to do battle for me, though our Congress
has decided to enlist such Indians as wish to serve;
but because there might be some thousand warriors
the less to hang on our flanks and do the dreadful work
among the people of this country which these people
so justly fear."
He rose, nodding to me, and I followed him to the
door.
" Now," he said, " you know what you are to do."
"When shall I set out, sir?" I asked.
He smiled, saying, " I shall give you no instructions.
Captain Ormond; I shall only concern myself with re-
sults."
" May I take with me whom I please?"
"Certainly, sir."
I looked at Mount, who had been standing motion-
less by the door, an attentive spectator.
"I will take the rifleman Mount," I said, "unless he
is detailed for other service "
"Take him, Mr. Ormond. When do you wish to
start? I ask it because there is a gentleman at Broad-
albin who has news for you, and you must pass that
way."
"May I ask who that is?" I inquired, respectfully.
"The gentleman is Sir George Covert, captain on my
personal staff, and now under your orders."
"I shall set out to-night, sir," I said, abruptly; then
stepped back to let him pass me into the hallway be-
yond.
"Saddle my mare and make every preparation,"
I said to Mount. " When you are ready lead the
horses to the stockade gate. . . . How long will you
take?"
"An hour, sir, for rubbing down, saddling, and
packing fodder, ammunition, and provisions."
199
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Very well," I said, soberly, and walked out to the
long drawing-room, where the company had takm
chairs and were all whispering and watching a green
baize curtain which somebody had hung across the
farther end of the room.
"Charades and pictures/ whispered Cecile, at my
elbow. "I guessed two, and Mr. Clavarack says ii
was wonderful."
It certainly was/' I said, gravely. "Whcr
Ruyven? Oh, sitting with Miss Haldimand? Cecile,
would you ask Miss Haldimand s indulgence for a
few moments? I must speak to Sir Lupus and to you
and Ruyvi
I stepped back of the rows of chairs to where Sir
Lupus sat in his great arm-chair by the doorway;
and in another moment Cecile and Ruyven canu up,
tin- latter polite but scarcely pleased to be torn away
from his first inamorata.
"Sir Lupus, and you, Cecile and Ruyven," I said,
in a low voice, "I am going on a little journey, and
shall be absent for a few days, perhaps longer. 1
li to take this opportunity to say good-bye, and to
thank you all for your great kindness to me."
" Where the devil are you going?" snapped Sir Lu-
pus.
"I am not at liberty to say, sir; perhaps General
Schuyler may tell you."
The patroon looked up at me sorrowfully. " George!
George!" he said, " has it touched us already?"
"Yes, sir." I muttered.
"What?" whispered Cecile.
** Father means the war. Our cousin Ormond is go-
ing to the war," exclaimed Ruyven, softly.
There was a pause; then Cecile flung both arras
around my neck and kissed i ing siler
The patroon 's great, fat hand sought mine and held
200
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Ruyven placed his arm about my shoulder. Never
had I imagined that I could love these kinsmen of
mine so dearly.
" There's always a bed for you here ; remember that,
my lad/' growled the patroon.
" Take me, too/' sniffed Ruyven.
"Eh! What?" cried the patroon. " 1'U take you;
oh yes over my knee, you impudent puppy! Let
me catch you sneaking off to this war and I'll "
Ruyven relapsed into silence, staring at me in
troubled fascination.
" The house is yours, George," grunted the patroon.
" Help yourself to what you need for your journey."
"Thank you, sir; say good-bye to the children, kiss
them all for me, Cecile. And don't run away and
get married until I come back."
A stifled snivel was my answer.
Then into the room shuffled old Cato, and began to
extinguish the candles; and I saw the green curtain
twitch, and everybody whispered " Ah-h!"
General Schuyler arose in the dim light when the
last candle was blown out. "You are to guess the
title of this picture!" he said, in his even, pleasant
voice. " It is a famous picture, familiar to all present,
I think, and celebrated in the Old World as well as in
the New. . . . Draw the curtain, Cato 1"
Suddenly the curtain parted, and there stood the
living, breathing figure of the " Maid-at- Arms. " Her
thick, gold hair clouded her cheeks, her eyes, blue as
wood-violets, looked out sweetly from the shadowy
background, her armor glittered.
A stillness fell over the dark room ; slowly the green
curtains closed; the figure vanished.
There was a roar of excited applause in my ears as
I stumbled forward through the darkness, groping
my way towards the dim gun-room through which
201
Till] MAID-AT-ARMS
she must pass to regain her chamber by the narrow
stairway which led to the attic.
She was not there; I waited a moment, listening in
the darkness, and presently I heard, s ra oxer-
head, a faint ringing sound and the deadened clash
of armed steps on the garret floor.
"Dorothy!" I called.
The steps ceased, and I mounted the steep stairway
and came out into the garret, and saw her standing
there, her armor outlined against the window and
the pale starlight streaming over her steel shoulder*
pieces.
I shall never forget her as she stood looking at me,
her steel-clad figure half buried in the darkness, yet
dimly apparent in its youthful symmetry where the
starlight fell on the curve of cuisse and greave, ulmi-
mering on the inlaid gorget with an unearthly 1;- lit,
and Mining pale sparks like fire-flies tangled in her
hair.
(1 I please you?" she whispered. " Did I not sur-
prise you? Cato scoured the armor f< the
same armor she wore, they say the Maid - at - Arms.
And it fits me like ray leather clothes, limb and body.
Hark! . v are applauding yet I But I do not
mean to spoil the magic picture by a senseless repeti-
tion. . . . And some are sure to say a ghost appeared.
. . . Why are you so silent ? >t please you?"
She flung casque and sword on the floor, cleared her
white forehead from its tumhled veil of hair; then bent
nearer, scanning my eyes close
"Is aught amiss?" she asked, under her breath.
I turned and slowly traversed the upper hallway to
her chamber door, she walking beside me in silence,
striving to read my face.
"Let your maids disarm you," I whispered; "then
drc.vs and tap at my door. I shall be waiting."
202
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Tell me now, cousin."
"No; dress first."
" It will take too long to do my hair. Oh, tell me!
You have frightened me."
"It is nothing to frighten you," I said. "Put off
your armor and come to my door. Will you promise?"
"Ye-es," she faltered; and I turned and hastened
to my own chamber, to prepare for the business which
lay before me.
I dressed rapidly, my thoughts in a whirl ; but I had
scarcely slung powder-horn and pouch, and belted
in my hunting-shirt, when there came a rapping at
the door, and I opened it and stepped out into the dim
hallway.
At sight of me she understood, and turned quite
white, standing there in her boudoir -robe of China
silk, her heavy, burnished hair in two loose braids to
her waist.
In silence I lifted her listless hands and kissed the
fingers, then the cold wrists and palms. And I saw
the faint circlet of the ghost-ring on her bridal finger,
and touched it with my lips.
Then, as I stepped past her, she gave a low cry,
hiding her face in her hands, and leaned back against
the wall, quivering from head to foot.
" Don't go!" she sobbed. " Don't go-don't go!"
And because I durst not, for her own sake, turn or
listen, I reeled on, seeing nothing, her faint cry ring-
ing in my ears, until darkness and a cold wind struck
me in the face, and I saw horses waiting, black in the
starlight, and the gigantic form of a man at their
heads, fringed cape blowing in the wind.
"All ready?" I gasped.
" All is ready and the night fine I We ride by Broad-
albin, I think. . . . Whoa! back up! you long-eared
ass! D' ye think to smell a Mohawk? ... Or is it
203
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
your comrades on the picket -rope that bedevil you?
. . Look at the troop-horses, sir, all a-rolling
backs in the sand, four hoofs 1 in the air. It's
easier on yon sentry than when they're all a-squealin'
and a-bitin' This way, sir. We swing by the bush
and pick up the Iroquois trail 'twixt the Hollow and
Mayfield.
XIV
ON DUTY
A3 we galloped into Broadalbin Bush a house on
our right loomed up black and silent, and I saw
shutters and doors swinging wide open, and the stars
shining through. There was something sinister in
this stark and tenantless homestead, whose void case-
ments stared, like empty eye-sockets.
"They have gone to the Middle Fort all of them
except the Stoners," said Mount, pushing his horse
up beside mine. " Look, sir 1 See what this red teiror
has already done to make a wilderness of County
Tryon and not a blow struck yet!"
We passed another house, doorless, deserted; and
as I rode abreast of it, to my horror I saw two shining
eyes staring out at me from the empty window.
"A wolf already!" muttered Mount, tugging at
his bridle as his horse sheered off, snorting ; and I saw
something run across the front steps and drop into the
shadows.
The roar of the Kennyetto sounded nearer. Woods
gave place to stump-fields in which the young corn
sprouted, silvered by the stars. Across a stony past-
ure we saw a rushlight burning in a doorway; and,
swinging our horses out across a strip of burned stub-
ble, we came presently to Stoner's house and heard
the noise of the stream rushing through the woods
below.
I saw Sir George Covert immediately; he was sit-
205
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
ting on a log under the wind* sod in his uni-
form, a dark military cloak mantling his should
and knees. When he recoi ic he rose and came
to my side.
"Well, Ormond," he said, quietly, "it's a comfort
to see you. Leave your horses will n Who is
that with you oh. Jack Mount? Th< :u rifle-
men, Elerson and Murphy Morgan's i< know."
The two riflemen saluted me with easy ceremony
and sauntered over to where Mount was standing at
our horses' heads.
"I Kilo, Catamount Jack/' said ' humor-
ously. "Where'd ye steal the squaw-bucksk
Look at the macaroni, Tim all yellow and purple
fringe!"
Mount surveyed the riflemen in their suits of brown
holland and belted rifle-frocks.
" Dave Elerson, you look like a Quakeress in a Dutch
:i," he observed.
r nate turrn to yere leg he grudges ye/'
said Murphy to K M the
legsav a beau I"
"Bow-legs, Dave," commented Mount. "It's not
your fault, lad. I've seen 'em run from the Iroquois
as fast as Tim's"
The bantering reply of the big Irishman was 1<
me as Sir George led me out of earshot, one arm linked
in mine.
I told him briefly of my mission, of my new rank in
the army. He congratulated me warmly, and asked,
in his pleasant way, for news of the manor, yet did
not name Dorothy, which surprised me to the verge
of resentment. Twice I spoke of her, and he replied
courteously, yet seemed nothing eager to learn of
beyond what I volunteered.
And at last I said: "Sir George, may I not claim a
206
ON DUTY
kinsman's privilege to wish you joy in your great
happiness?"
"What happiness?" he asked, blankly; then, in
slight confusion, added: "You speak of my betrothal
to your cousin Dorothy. I am stupid beyond pardon,
Ormond; I thank you for your kind wishes. ... I sup-
pose Sir Lupus told you," he added, vaguely.
"My cousin Dorothy told me," I said.
"Ah! Yes yes, indeed. But it is all in the future
yet, Ormond." He moved on, switching the long weeds
with a stick he had found. " All in the future," he mur-
mured, absently " in fact, quite remote, Ormond. . . ,
By-the-way, you know why you were to meet me?"
"No, I don't," I replied, coldly.
"Then Til tell you. The General is trying to head
off Walter Butler and arrest him. Murphy and Elerson
have just heard that Walter Butler's mother and sis-
ter, and a young lady, Magdalen Brant you met her
at Varicks' are staying quietly at the house of a
Tory named Beacraft. We must strive to catch him
there; and, failing that, we must watch Magdalen
Brant, that she has no communication with the Iro-
quois." He lusituted, head bent. "You see, the
General believes that this young girl can sway the
False-Faces to peace or war. She was once their pet
as a child. ... It seems hard to believe that this lovely
and cultivated young girl could revert to such savage
customs. . . . And yet Murphy and Elerson credit it,
and say that she will surely appear at the False-Faces'
rites. ... It is horrible, Ormond; she is a sweet child
by Heaven, she would turn a European court with
her wit and beauty!"
" I concede her beauty," I said, uneasy at his warm
praise, "but as to her wit, I confess I scarcely ex-
changed a dozen words with her that night, and so
am no judge."
207
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
" Ah!" he said, with an absent-minded stare.
" I naturally devoted myself to my cousin Doro-
thy/ I added, irritated, without knowing why.
" Quite so quite so/' he mused. " As I was saying,
it seems cruel to suspect Magdalen Brant, but
General believes she can sway the Oneidas and Tus-
caroras. ... It is a ghastly idea. And if she does
attempt this thing, it will he through the infernal
machinations and devilish persuasions of the But
mark that, Ormond!"
He turned short in his tracks and made a fierce gest-
with his stick It broke short, and he flung the
splintered ends into the darkness.
"Why," he said, warmly, "there is not a gentler,
sweeter disposition in the world than Magdalen I
if no one comes a-tampering to wake the Iroquois blood
in her. These accursed Butlers seem inspired by lull
itself and Guy Johnson! What kind of a man is
that, to take this young girl from Albany, where she had
otten what a council lire meant, and bring her 1
to these savages sacrifice her! undo all those years
of culture and education! rouse in her the donn
traditions and passions which she had imbibed with
her first milk, and whii h she forgot when she was
weaned! That is the truth, I till you! I know,
It was my uncle who took her from Guy Park and ^
her to my aunt Livingston. She had the best of school-
ing; she was reared in luxury; she had every ad v
tage that could be gained in Albany; my aunt took
her to London that she mitrht acquire those graces of
deportment which we but roughly i . . Is it not
sickening to see Guy Johnson and Sir John exercise
their power of relationship and persuade her from a
good home back to t . Think of it, Ormond!"
" I do think of it/ 1 said I. 'It is wrong- : t is cruel
and shameful!"
208
ON DUTY
"It is worse/' said Sir George, bitterly. "Scarce a
year has she been at Guy Park, yet to-day she is in
full sympathy with Guy and Sir John and her dusky
kinsman, Brant. Outwardly she is a charming, mod-
est maid, and I do not for an instant mean you to think
she is not chaste! The Irish nation is no more famed
for its chastity than the Mohawk, but I know that she
listens when the forest calls listens with savant ears,
Ormond, and her dozen drops of dusky blood set her
pulses flying to the free call of the Wolf clan!"
"Do you know her well?" I asked.
"I? No. I saw her at my aunt Livingston's. It
was the other night that I talked long with her for
the first time in my life."
He stood silent, knee-deep in the dewy weeds, hand
worrying his sword-hilt, long cloak flung back.
" You have no idea how much of a woman she is,"
he said, vaguely.
" In that case," I replied, "you might influence her."
He raised his thoughtful face to the stars, studying
the Twin Pointers.
"May I try?" he asked.
" Try? Yes, try, in Heaven's name, Sir George! If
she must speak to the Oneidas, persuade her to throw
her influence for peace, if you can. At all events, I
shall know whether or not she goes to the fire, for I am
charged by the General to find the False-Faces and
report to him every word said. ... Do you speak Tus-
carora, Sir George?"
" No ; only Mohawk," he said. " How are you going
to find the False-Faces' meeting-place?"
"If Magdalen Brant goes, I go," said I. "And
while I'm watching her, Jack Mount is to range, and
track any savage who passes the Iroquois trail. . . .
What do you mean to do with Murphy and Elerson?"
"Elerson rides back to the manor with our horses;
* 209
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
we've no further use for them here. Murphy follows
me. . . And I think we should be on our way/' he
added, impatiently.
We walked back to the house, where old man Si
and his two big boys stood with our riflemen, drinking
" Elerson," I said, " ride my mare and lead the other
horses back to Varicks'. Murphy, you will pilot us to
Beacraft's. Jack, go forward with Murf
Old Stoner wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand, bit into a twist of tobacco, spat derisively, and
said: "This pup Beacraft swares he'll lift my haar
'fore he gits through with me! Threatened men 1
long. Kindly tell him me an' ray sons is to hum.
.
The lug, lank boys laughed, and winked at me as I
I>assed.
"Good trail an' many skelps to ye!" said old Stoner.
" If yeseeFrancy McCraw, jest Ull him thar'saropean'
a apple-tree waitin' fur him down to Fundy's Bi;
11 Danny Redstock an' Billy Bones that the
Stoner boys is smcllin' almighty close on their trail 1
Uler youth.
Elerson, in his saddle, gathered the bridles that
Mount hi ruled him and rode off into the darkness,
leading Mount's horse and Sir George's at a trot. We
filed off due west. Murphy and Mount striding
lead, the noise of the river below us on our U ft. A
few rods and we swung south, then west into a wretched
Stamp-road < 'leorirc said was the Mayfield
road and part of the Sacandaga trail
roar of the Kennyetto accompanied us, then for
a while was lost in the swaying murmur of the pines.
Twice we passed trodden carrying-places before the
rushing of the river sounded once more far below us
in a gorge; and we descended into a hollow to a ford
210
ON DUTY
from which an Indian trail ran back to the north. This
was the Balston trail, which joined the Fish-House
road; and Sir George said it was the trail I should
have followed had it not been necessary for me to
meet him at Fonda's Bush to relieve him of his horse.
Now, journeying rapidly west, our faces set towards
the Mayfield hills, we passed two or three small, cold
brooks, on stepping-stones, where the dark sky, set with
stars, danced in the ripples. Once, on a cleared hill,
we saw against the sky the dim bulk of a lonely barn ;
then nothing more fashioned by human hands until,
hours later, we found Murphy and Mount standing
beside some rough pasture bars in the forest. How
they had found them in the darkness of the woods
for we had long since left the stump-road I do not
know; but the bars were there, and a brush fence;
and Murphy whispered that, beyond, a cow-path led
to Beacraft's house.
Now, wary of ambuscade, we moved on, rifles primed
and cocked, traversing a wet path bowered by willow
and alder, until we reached a cornfield, fenced with
split rails. The path skirted this, continuing under a
line of huge trees, then ascended a stony little hill, on
which a shadowy house stood.
" Beacraft's," whispered Murphy.
Sir George suggested that we surround the house
and watch it till dawn; so Mount circled the little hill
and took station in the north, Sir George moved east-
ward, Murphy crept to the west, and I sat down under
the last tree in the lane, cocked rifle on my knees, pan
sheltered under my round cap of doeskin.
Sunrise was to be our signal to move forward. The
hours dragged; the stars grew no paler; no sign of
life appeared in the ghostly house save when the
west wind brought to me a faint scent of smoke, in-
visible as yet above the single chimney.
211
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
But after a long while I knew that dawn was on
the way towards the western hills, for a bird twitu
restlessly in the tree above me, and I began to t
rather than hear, a multitude of feathered stirrings
all about me in the darkness.
Would dawn never come? The stars seemed brighter
than ever no, one on the eastern horizon twinkled
paler; the blue-black sky had faded; another star
paled ; others lost their diamond lustre ; a silvery pallor
spread throughout the east, wink the increasing chorus
of the birds grew in my ears.
Then a cock-crow rang out, close by, and the bird
o' dawn's clear fanfare roused the feathered world to
a rushing outpour of song.
All the east was yellow now; a rose -light quiv-
ered behind the forest like the shimmer of a hidden
fire; then a blinding shaft of light fell across the
world.
mging to my feet, I shouldered my rifle and started
across the pasture, ankle deep in glittering dt v
as I advanced Sir George appeared, breasting the hill
from the east; Murphy's big bulk loomed in tlu west;
and, as we met before the door of the house, Jack Mount
sauntered around the corner, chewing a grass-st
Ins long, brown rifle cradled in his arm.
"Rap on the door, Mount, 1 said. Mount gave a
round double rap, chewed his grass-stem, considered,
then rapped again, humming to himself in an under-
tone:
Is the old fox in'
Is the old fox out"
1 the old fox gone to Glo-ry?
Oh, he's just come in,
But he's just gone out,
And I hope you like my sto-ry I
Tmk-a-diddle-diddle-diddle,
Tink-a-diddle-diddle-dum "
212
ON DUTY
"Rap louder/' I said.
Mount obeyed, chewed reflectively, and scratched
his ear.
" Is the Tory in?
Is the Tory out?
Is the Tory gone to Glo-ry?
Oh, he's just come in,
But he's just gone out "
"Knock louder/' I repeated.
Murphy said he could drive the door in with his
gun-butt; I shook my head.
"Somebody's coming," observed Mount
" Tink-a-diddle-diddle "
The door opened and a lean, dark-faced man ap-
peared, dressed in his smalls and shirt. He favored
us with a sour look, which deepened to a scowl when
he recognized Mount, who saluted him cheerfully.
"Hello, Beacraft, old cock! How's the mad world
usin' you these palmy, balmy days?"
"Pretty well," said Beacraft, sullenly.
"That's right, that's right," cried Mount. "My
friends and I thought we'd just drop around. Ain't
you glad, Beacraft, old buck?"
"Not very," said Beacraft.
"Not very!" echoed Mount, in apparent dismay and
sorrow. "Ain't you enj'yin' good health, Beacraft?"
"I'm well, but I'm busy," said the man, slowly.
"So are we, so are we/' cried Mount, with a brisk
laugh. "Come in, friends; you must know my old
acquaintance Beacraft better; a King's man, gentle-
men, so we can all feel at home now!"
For a moment Beacraft looked as though he meant
to shut the door in our faces, but Mount's huge bulk
was in the way, and we all followed his lead, enter-
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
ing a large, unplastered room, part kitchen, part bed-
room.
"A King's man," repeated Mount, cordially, rub-
bing his hands at the smouldering liiv and looking
around in apparent satisfacti "A King's man;
what the nasty rebels call a 'Tory/ gentlemen. Myl
Ain't this nice to be all together so fru ndly and cosey
with my old friend Beacraft? Who's visitiif ye, Bea-
craft? Anybody sleepin' up-stairs, old friend ?
Beacraft looked around at us, and his eyes rested
on Sir George.
"Who be you?" he asked.
s my friend, Mr. Covert," said Mount, f
sweating cordiality from every pore "my dear old
friend, Mr. Covert "
"Oh," said Beacraft, "I thought he was Sir George
Covert. . . . And yonder stands your dear old friend
Timothy Murphy, I suppose?"
"Exactly," smiled Mount, rubbing his palms in ap-
preciation.
The man gave me an evil look.
"1 don't know you," he said, "but I could guess
your business. " And to Mount : " What do you wai i
" We want to know," said I, " whether Captain Wal-
ter Butler is lodging her
"He was/' said Beacraft, grimly; "he left yester-
day."
"And I hope yon like my sto-ryr
hummed Mount, strolling about the room, peeping into
closets and cupboards, poking under the bed with
rifle, and finally coming to a halt at the foot of the
stairs with his head on one side, like a jay -bird im-
mersed in thought.
Murphy, who had quietly entered the cellar, re-
turned empty-handed, and, at a signal from me, stepped
214,
ON DUTY
outside and seated himself on a chopping-block in the
yard, from whence he commanded a view of the house
and vicinity.
"Now, Mr. Beacraft," I said, " whoever lodges above
must come down ; and it would be pleasanter for every-
body if you carried the invitation."
" Do you propose to violate the privacy of my house?"
he asked.
"I certainly do."
" Where is your warrant of authority?" he inquired,
fixing his penetrating eyes on mine.
"I have my authority from the General command-
ing this department. My instructions are verbal
my warrant is military necessity. I fear that this ex-
planation must satisfy you."
"It does not," he said, doggedly.
"That is unfortunate/' I observed. "I will give
you one more chance to answer my question. What
person or persons are on the floor above?"
"Captain Butler was there; he departed yesterday
with his mother and sister/' replied Beacraft, mali-
ciously.
"Is that all?"
"Miss Brant is there," he muttered.
I glanced at Sir George, who had risen to pace the
floor, throwing back his military cloak. At sight of
his uniform Beacraft's small eyes seemed to dart
fire.
"What were you doing when we knocked?" I in-
quired.
"Cooking," he replied, tersely.
"Then cook breakfast for us all and Miss Brant,"
I said. " Mount, help Mr. Beacraft with the corn-bread
and boil those eggs. Sir George, I want Murphy to
stay outside, so if you would spread the cloth
"Of course/' he said, nervously; and I started up
215
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
the flimsy wooden stairway, which shook as I mount-
ed. Beacraft's malignant eyes followed me for a mo-
ment, then he thrust his hands into his pockets and
glowered at Mount, who, whistling cheerfully, squatted
before the fireplace, blowing the embers with a pair of
e-made belle
On the floor above, four doors faced the narrow pas-
sage-way. I knocked at one. A gentle, sleepy voice
answered :
"Very well."
Then, in turn, I entered each of the remaining r
and searched. In the first room there was nothing
but a bed and a bit of mirror framed in pun ; in tlu-
second, another bed and a clothes-press which con-
tained an empty cider-jug and a tattered almanac;
in the third room a mattress lay on the floor, and be-
lt two ink-horns, several quills, and a sheet of blue
paper, such as comes wrapped around a sugar-loaf.
The licet of paper was pinned to the floor with j
splinters, as though a draughtsman had prepared n
for drawing some plan, but there were no lines on it,
and I was about to leave it when a peculiar odor in
the close air of the room brought me back to re-cxan
it on both sides.
re was no mark on the blue surface. 1 p
up an ink-horn, sniffed it, ,md spilled a drop of the
fluid on my linger. The fluid left no stain, but
odor I had noticed certainly came from it. I folded the
paper and placed it in my beaded pouch, tlu n deseend-
ed the stairs, to find M< ring tlu
Sir George laying a cloth over the kitchen table, \
Beacraft sat moodily by th \\u\n: e\<
body askance. The fire needed nu-ndim: and I used
the bellows. And, as 1 knelt there on the hetrth, I
saw a milky white stain slowly spread over the linger
which I had dipped into the ink-horn. I walked to the
216
ON DUTY
door and stood in the cool morning air. Slowly the
white stain disappeared.
"Mount," I said, sharply, "you and Murphy and
Beacraft will eat your breakfast at once and be quick
about it/' And I motioned Murphy into the house
and sat down on an old plough to wait.
Through the open door I could see the two big riflemen
plying spoon and knife, while Beacraft picked furtively
at his johnny-cake, eyes travelling restlessly from Mount
to Murphy, from Sir George to the wooden stairway.
My riflemen ate like hounds after a chase, tipping
their porridge-dishes to scrape them clean, then bolted
eggs and smoking corn-bread in a trice, and rose, tak-
ing Beacraft with them to the doorway.
" Fill your pipes, lads/' 1 said. "Sit out in the sun
yonder. Mr. Beacraft may have some excellent stories
to tell you."
" I must do my work," said Beacraft, angrily, but
Mount and Murphy each took an arm and led the un-
willing man across the strip of potato-hills to a grassy
l;n<>ll under a big oak, from whence a view of the house
and clearing could be obtained. When I entered the
house again, Sir George was busy removing soiled
plates and arranging covers for three ; and I sat down
close to the fire, drawing the square of blue paper from
my pouch and spreading it to the blaze. When it was
piping hot I laid it upon my knees and examined the
design. What I had before me was a well-drawn map
of the Kingsland district, made in white outline, show-
ing trails and distances between farms. And, out of
fifty farms marked, forty-three bore the word " Rebel,"
and were ornamented by little red hatchets.
Also, to every house was affixed the number, sex, and
age of its inhabitants, even down to the three-months
babe in the cradle, the number of cattle, the amount
of grain in the barns.
217
THE MA ID- AT- A RMS
Further, the Kingsland district of the county was
divided into three sections, the first marked "Mr-
Craw's Gyrations," the second " Butler and Indians/*
the third "St. Leger's Indians and Royal (.
The paper was signed by Uriah Bi
After a few moments I folded this can-fully prepared
plan for deliberate and wholesale murder and placed
it in my wallet
Sir George looked up at me with a question in his
eyes. I nodded, saying: "We have enough to ar
Beacraft If you cannot persuade MagdaKn llrant,
we must arrest her, too. You had best use all y
art, Sir George."
I will do what I can," he said, gravel v.
A moment later a 1 <1 <>n the stairs;
we both sprang to our feet and removed our hats. Mag-
dalen Brant appeared, fresh and sweet as a rose-peony
on a dewy morning.
r George!" she exclaimed, in flushed dismay
"and you, too, Mr. Ormond!"
Sir George bowed, laughingly, saying that mr jour-
ney had brought us so near her that we could not neglect
to pay our respects.
"Where is Mr. Beacraft?" she said, bewildered, and
at the same moment caught sight of him through the
open doorway, seated under the oak-tree, apparently in
htful confab with Murphy and Mount
<> not quite understand," she said, gazing steadily
at Sir George. "We are King's people here. And
you-"
She looked at his blue-and-buff uniform, shaking
her head, then glanced at me in my fringed buckskins.
rust this war cannot erase the pleasant men:
of other days, Miss Brant/' said Sir George, eas
"May we not have one more hour together before the
storm breal;
218
ON DUTY
"What storm, Sir George?" she asked, coloring up.
"The British invasion," I said. "We have chosen
our colors; your kinsmen have chosen theirs. It is a
political, not a personal difference, Miss Brant, and
we may honorably clasp hands until our hands are
needed for our hilts. "
Sir George, graceful and debonair, conducted her
to her place at the rough table; I served the hasty-
pudding, making a jest of the situation. And pres-
ently we were eating there in the sunshine of the open
doorway, chatting over the dinner at Varicks', each
outvying the others to make the best of an unhappy
and delicate situation.
Sir George spoke of the days in Albany spent with
his aunt, and she responded in sensitive reserve, which
presently softened under his gentle courtesy, leaving
her beautiful, dark eyes a trifle dim and her scarlet
mouth quivering.
" It is like another life," she said. " It was too lovely
to last. Ah, those dear people in Albany, and their
great kindness to mel And now I shall never see
them again."
"Why not?" asked Sir George. "My aunt Living,
ston would welcome you."
"I cannot abandon my own kin, Sir George," she
said, raising her distressed eyes to his.
"There are moments when it is best to sever such
ties," I observed.
"Perhaps," she said, quickly; "but this is not the
moment, Mr. Ormond. My kinsmen are exiled fugi-
tives, deprived of their own lands by those who have
risen in rebellion against our King. How can I, whom
they loved in their prosperity, leave them in their ad-
versity?"
"You speak of Guy Johnson and Sir John?" I
asked.
219
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Yes; and of those brave people whose blood flows
in my veins," she said, quietly. "Where is the Mo-
hawk nation now, Sir George? This is their country,
secured to them by solemn oath and covenant, in-
late for all time. Their belts lie with the King of Eng-
land ; his belts lie still with my people, the Moha\\
Where are they?"
Fled to Oswego with Sir John," I said.
"And homeless!" she added, in a low, tense voice
"homeless, without clothing, without food, save what
Guy Johnson gives them; their women and children
iitu-rly helpless, the graves of their fathers abandoned,
their fireplace at Onondaga cold, and the brands scat-
tered for the first time in a thousand years! Tins
have you Boston people done done already, without
.striking a blow."
She turned her head proudly and looked straight at
Sir George.
"Is it not the truth'.'" she asked.
"Only in part," he said, gently. Then, with in-
finite pains and delicacy, he told her of our govern-
ment's desire that the Iroquois should not engage in
the struggle; that if they had consented to neutrality
they might have remained in possession of their lands
and all their ancient rights, guaranteed by our Con-
gress.
He pointed out the fatal consequences of Guy John-
son's councils, the effect of Butler's lying promises,
tin dreadful results of such a struggle between Indians,
maddened by the loss of their own homes, and settlers
desperately clinging to thei
is not the Mohawks I blame," he said, "it is
those to whom opportunity has given wider eel
and knowledge the Tories, who are attcmp
use the Six Nations for their own selfish and terrible
ends! ... If in your veins run a few drops of Mo-
220
ON DUTY
hawk blood, my child, English blood runs there, too.
Be true to your bright Mohawk blood ; be true to the
generous English blood. It were cowardly to deny
either shameful to betray the one for the other."
She gazed at him, fascinated ; his voice swayed her,
his handsome, grave face held her. Whether it was
reason or emotion, mind or heart, I know not, but her
whole sensitive being seemed to respond to his voice;
and as he played upon this lovely human instrument,
varying his deep theme, she responded in every nerve,
every breath. Reason, hope, sorrow, tenderness, pas-
sion all these I read in her deep, velvet eyes, and in
the mute language of her lips, and in the timing
pulse-beat under the lace on her breast.
I rose and walked to the door. She did not heed
my going, nor did Sir George.
Under the oak-tree I found Murphy and Mount,
smoking their pipes and watching Beacraft, who lay
with his rough head pillowed on his arms, feigning
slumber.
"Why did you mark so many houses with the red
hatchet?" I asked, pleasantly.
He did not move a muscle, but over his face a deep
color spread to the neck and hair.
"Murphy," I said, "take that prisoner to General
Schuyler!"
Beacraft sprang up, glaring at me out of bloodshot
eyes.
"Shoot him if he breaks away," I added.
From his convulsed and distorted lips a torrent of
profanity burst as Murphy laid a heavy hand on his
. shoulder and faced him eastward. I drew the blue pa-
per from my wallet, whispered to Murphy, and handed it
to him. He shoved it inside the breast of his hunting-
shirt, cocked his rifle, and tapped Beacraft on the arm.
So they marched away across the sunlit pasture,
221
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
where blackbirds walked among the cattle, and tin
dew sparkled in tinted drops of fire.
In all my horror of the man I pitied him, for I km -w
he was going to his death, there through the fresh,
sweet morning, under the blue heavens. Once I saw
him look up, as though to take a last long look at a free
sky, and my heart ached heavily. Yet he had plotted
death in its most dreadful shapes for others who 1<
life as well as he- death to neighbors, death to sir
gers whole families, whom he had perhaps m
even seen to mothers, to fathers, old, young, babes
in the cradle, babes at the breast ; and he had set down
the total of one hundred and twenty-nine scalps at twenty
dollars each, over hit own signature.
Schuyler had said to me that it was not the black-
eyed Indians the people of Tryon County dreaded, but
the blue -eyed savages. And I had scarcely m,
stood at that time how the ferocity of demons could lie
dormant in white breasts.
Standing there with Mount under the oak, I saw
Sir George and Magdalen Brant leave the house and
stroll down the path towards the stream. Sir George
was still speaking in his quiet, earnest manner;
eyes were fixed on him so that she scarce heeded her
steps, and twice long sprays of sweetbrier caught
lur gown, and Sir George freed her. But her eyes
never wandered from him; and I myself thought he
IT looked so handsome and courtly as he d
in his officer's uniform and black cockade.
Where their pathway entered the alders, below tin
lane, they vanished from our sight ; and, leaving Mount
to watch I went back to the house, to search it
thoroughly from cellar to the dark garret beneath
eaves.
At two o'clock in the afternoon Sir George and Mag-
dalen Brant had not returned. I called Mount into UK
222
ON DUTY
nouse, and we cooked some eggs and johnny-cake to
stay our stomachs. An hour later I sent Mount out
to make a circle of a mile, strike the Iroquois trail and
hang to it till dark, following any traveller, white or
red, who might be likely to lead him towards the secret
trysting-place of the False-Faces.
Left alone at the house, I continued to rummage,
finding nothing of importance, however; and towards
dusk I came out to see if I might discover Sir George
and Magdalen Brant. They were not in sight. I waited
for a while, strolling about the deserted garden, where
a few poppies turned their crimson disks towards the
setting sun, and a peony lay dead and smelling rank,
with the ants crawling all over it. In the mellow light
the stillness was absolute, save when a distant white-
throat's silvery call, long drawn out, floated from the
forest's darkening edge.
The melancholy of the deserted home oppressed
me, as though I had wronged it ; the sad little house
seemed to be watching me out of its humble windows,
like a patient dog awaiting another blow. Beacraft's
worn coat and threadbare vest, limp and musty as the
garments of a dead man, hung on a peg behind the
door. I searched the pockets with repugnance and
found a few papers, which smelled like the covers of
ancient books, memoranda of miserable little trans-
actions threepence paid for soling shoes, twopence
here, a penny there; nothing more. I threw the pa-
pers on the grass, dipped up a bucket of well-water,
and rinsed my fingers. And always the tenantless
house watched me furtively from its humble windows.
The sun's brassy edge glittered above the blue chain
of hills as I walked across the pasture towards the
path that led winding among the alders to the brook
below. I followed it in the deepening evening light
and sat down on a log, watching the water swirling
223
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
through the flat stepping-stones where trout were
swarming, leaping for the tiny winged ereatures that
drifted across the dusl r. And as I sat th
I became aware of sounds like voices ; and at first, see*
no one, I thought the noises came from the low
bubbling monotone of the stream. Then I heard a
voice murmuring: "I will do what you ask me I
will do everything you desi
Fearful of eavesdropping, I rose, peering ahead to
make myself known, but saw nothing in the deepen-
ing dusk. On the point of calling, the words died on
my lips as the same voice sounded again, close to me :
" I pray you let me have my way. I will obey you.
How can you doubt it? But I must obey in my own
way."
And Sir George's deep, pleasant voice answered:
"There is danger to you in this. I could not endure
that, Magdalen.
They were on a path parallel to the trail in ulu li I
stood, separated from me by a deep fringe of willow.
I could not see them, though now they were slowly
passing abreast of me.
" What do you care for a maid you so easily per-
suade?" she asked, with a little laugh that rang j
fully false in the dusk.
is her own merciful heart that persuades her/'
he said, under his breath.
1 think my heart is merciful/' she said "more
merciful than even I knew. The restless blood in
set me afire when 1 saw the wrong done to these pati
people of the Long House. . . . And when th.-v.-ipjx/aled
to me I came here to justify .tnd bid them stand
for their own hearths. . . . And now } r ou come, teach-
ing me the truth concerning nd wrong, and how
God views justice and injustice; and how tli
pest, once loosened, can never be chained until inm>
224
ON DUTY
cent and guilty are alike ingulfed. ... I am very young
to know all these things without counsel. ... I needed
aid and wisdom to teach me your wisdom. Now,
in my turn, I shall teach; but you must let me teach
in my way. There is only one way that the Long
House can be taught. . . . You do not believe it, but
in this I am wiser than you I know."
" Will you not tell me what you mean to do, Mag-
dalen?"
"No, Sir George."
"When will you tell me?"
" Never. But you will know what I have done. You
will see that I hold three nations back. What else can
you ask? I shall obey you. What more is there?"
Her voice lingered in the air like an echo of flowing
water, then died away as they moved on, until nothing
sounded in the forest stillness save the low ripple of the
stream. An hour later I picked my way back to the
house and saw Sir George standing in the starlight,
and Mount beside him, pointing towards the east
"I've found the False -Faces' trysting- place/' said
Mount, eagerly, as I came up. " I circled and struck
the main Iroquois trail half a mile yonder in the bot-
tom land a smooth, hard trail, worn a foot deep, sir.
And first comes an Onondaga war-party, stripped and
painted something sickening, and I dogged 'em till
they turned off into the bush to shoot a doe full of ar-
rows though all had guns ! and left 'em eating. Then
comes three painted devils, all hung about with witch-
drums and rattles, and I tied to them. And, would you
believe it, sir, they kept me on a fox-trot straight east,
then south along a deer-path, till they struck the Ken-
nyetto at that sulphur spring under the big cliff you
know, Sir George, where Klock's old line cuts into the
Mohawk country?"
" I know," said Sir George.
" 22*
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Mount took off his cap and scratched his ear.
The forest is full of little heaps of flat stones. I
could see my painted friends with the drums and '
s stop as they ran by, and each pull a flat stone from
the river and add it to the nearest heap. Then they
disappeared in the ravine and I guess that settles it,
Captain Ormond. "
Sir George looked at me, nodding.
That settles it, Ormond," he said
I bade Mount cook us something to eat Sir George
looked after him as he entered the house, then began
a restless pacing to and fro, arms loosely clasped be-
hind him.
"About Magdalen Brant/' he said, abruptly. "She
will not speak to the three nations for Butler's partv
The child had no idea of this wretched conspiracy to
turn the savages loose in the valley. She thou
our people meant to drive the Iroquois from their own
lands a black disgrace to us if we ever dol . . . They
implored her to speak to them in council. Did you
know they believe her to be inspired? Well, they do.
When she was a child they got that notion, and < -
Johnson and Walter Butler have been lying to her and
telling her what to say to the Oneidas and Onon-
dagas."
He turned impatiently, pacing the yard, scowling,
and gnawing his lip.
"Where is ! asked.
" She has gone to bed. She would eat nothing. We
must take her back with us to Albany and sumn
the sachems of the three nations, with belts."
* Yes," I said, slowly. " But before we leave I must
see the Fals^Faces."
"Did Schuyler make that a point?"
"Yes, Sir George."
"They say the False-Faces' rites are terrific/' he
226
ON DUTY
muttered. "Thank God, that child will not be lured
into those hideous orgies by Walter Butler!"
We walked towards the house where Mount had \ >iv-
pared our food. I sat down on the door-step to eat my
porridge and think of what lay before me and how best
to accomplish it. And at first I was minded to send
Sir George back with Magdalen Brant and take only
Mount with me. But whether it was a craven dread
of despatching to Dorothy the man she was pledged to
wed, or whether a desire for his knowledge and expe-
rience prompted me to invite his attendance at the
False-Faces' rites, I do not know clearly, even now. He
came out of the house presently, and I asked him if he
would go with me.
"One of us should stay here with Magdalen Brant,"
he said, gravely.
" Is she not safe here?" I asked.
" You cannot leave a child like that absolutely alone/'
he answered.
" Then take her to Varicks'," I said, sullenly. " If
she remains here some of Butler's men will be after her
to attend the council."
" You wish me to go up-stairs and rouse her for a
journey now ?"
" Yes; it is best to get her into a safe place," I mut-
tered. " She may change her ideas, too, betwixt now
and dawn."
He re-entered the house. I heard his spurs jingling
on the stairway, then his voice, and a rapping at the
door above.
Jack Mount appeared, rifle in hand, wiping his
mouth with his fingers; and together we paced the
yard, waiting for Sir George and Magdalen Brant to
set out before we struck the Iroquois trail.
Suddenly Sir George's heavy tread sounded on the
stairs; he came to the door, looking about him, east
227
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
and west. His features were pallid and set and
seamed with stern lines; he laid an unsteady hand
on my arm and drew me a jiaee as;
"Magdalen Brant is gone," he said.
I repeated. "\\h
"I don't know!" he said, hoarsely.
I stared at him in astonishment. Gone? Where?
Into the tremendous blackness of this wilderness that
menaced us on all sides like a sea? And they had
thought to tame her like a land-blown gull among the
poultry!
"Those drops of Mohawk blood are not in hi \vins
for nothing," I said, bitterly. " Here is our first les-
son."
Mr hunir his head. She had lied to him with in-
nocent, smooth face, as all such fifth-castes lie. No
jewelled snake could shed her skin as deftly as this
young maid had slipped from her shoulders the I
garment of ion.
The man beside me stood as though stunned. I
was obliged to speak to him thrice ere he roused to
follow Jack Mount, who, at a sign from me, had started
across the dark hill side to guide us to the trysting-
place of the False-Faces' clan.
" Mount spered, as he lingered waiting for us
at the stepping-stones in the dark, "some one has
passed this trail since I stood here an hour ago/' And,
bending down, I pointed to a high, flat stepping-stone,
which glimmered wet in the pale helit of the si
Sir George drew his tinder-box, struck steel to flint,
and lighted a short wax dip.
iere!" whispered Mor
On the edge of the sand the dip-lipht illuminated the
small imprint of a woman's shoe, pointing southeast
Magdalen Brant had heard the voices in the Long
House.
228
ON DUTY
mischief is done/' said Sir George, steadily.
"I take the blame and disgrace of this."
"No; I take it/' said I, sternly. "Step back, Sir
George. Blow out that dip! Mount, can you find
your way to that sulphur spring where the flat stones
are piled in little heaps?"
The big fellow laughed. As he strode forward into
the depthless sea of darkness a whippoorwill called.
"That's Elerson, sir," he said, and repeated the
call twice.
The rifleman appeared from the darkness, touch-
ing his cap to me. "The horses are safe, sir," he
said. " The General desires you to send your report
through Sir George Covert and push forward with
Mount to Stanwix."
He drew a sealed paper from his pouch and handed
it to me, saying that I was to read it.
Sir George lighted his dip once more. I broke the
seal and read my orders under the feeble, flickering
light:
"TEMPORARY HEADQUARTERS,
"VARICK MANOR,
" June i, 1777.
" To Captain Ormond, on scout?
" SIR, The General commanding this department desires you
to employ all art and persuasion to induce the Oneidas, Tusca-
roras, and Onondagas to remain quiet. Failing this, you are
again reminded that the capture of Magdalen Brant is of the
utmost importance. If possible, make Walter Butler also pris-
oner, and send him to Albany under charge of Timothy Mur-
phy; but, above all, secure the person of Magdalen Brant
and send her to Varick Manor under escort of Sir George Covert.
If, for any reason, you find these orders impossible of execution,
send your report of the False-Faces' council through Sir George
Covert, and push forward with the riflemen Mount, Murphy, and
Elerson until you are in touch with Gansevoort's outposts at
Stanwix. Warn Colonel Gansevoort that Colonel Barry St. Leger
has moved from Oswego, and order out a strong scout towards
Fort Niagara. Although Congress authorizes the employment of
229
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
friendly One Idas as scouts, General Schuylcr trusts that you \vill
not avail yourself of this liberty. Noblesse oblige/ The General
directs you to return only when you have carried out these order A
to the best of your ability. You will burn this paper before you
act out for Stanwix. I am,
" Your most humble and obedient scr
"JOHN HARROW.
"Major and A. D. C to the Major-General Commanding.
urned) PHILIP SCHUYLER,
"Major-General Commanding the Department of the N<
rtification at thi \vn -u lu-d muddle I had
already made of my mission, I thrust the paper into
my pouch and turned to Elerson.
" You know Magdalen I I asked, impatiently.
"There is a chance," I said, "that she may n
liat house on the hill behind us. If she comes back
you will see that she does not leave the house until
return "
1 Jeorge extinguished the dip once more. Mount
turned and set off at a swinging pace along the
1>K- pith; after him strode Sir George; I followed, brood-
ing bitterly on my stupidity, and hopeless now of se-
curing the prisoner in whose fragile hands the fate of
the Northland lay.
XV
THE FALSE-FACES
FOR a long time we had scented green birch smoke,
and now, on hands and knees, we were crawling
along the edge of a cliff, the roar of the river in our
ears, when Mount suddenly flattened out and I heard
him breathing heavily as I lay down close beside him.
"Look!" he whispered, "the ravine is full of fire!"
A dull-red glare grew from the depths of the ravine;
crimson shadows shook across the wall of earth and
rock. Above the roaring of the stream I heard an im-
mense confused murmur and the smothered thumping
rhythm of distant drumming.
"Go on," I whispered.
Mount crawled forward, Sir George and I after him.
The light below burned redder and redder on the cliff ;
sounds of voices grew more distinct ; the dark stream
sprang into view, crimson under the increasing fur-
nace glow. Then, as we rounded a heavy jutting
crag, a great light flared up almost in our faces, not
out of the kindling ravine, but breaking forth among
the huge pines on the cliffs.
" Their council-fire ! " panted Mount. " See them sit-
ting there!"
"Flatten out," I whispered. "Follow me!" And
I crawled straight towards the fire, where, ink - black
against the ruddy conflagration, an enormous pine lay
uprooted, smashed by lightning or tempest, I know not
which.
231
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Into the dense shadows of the d6bris I crawled, Mount
and Sir George following, and lay there in the dark,
staring at the forbidden circle where the secret mys-
teries of the False-Faces had already begun.
Three great fires roared, set at regular intervals in
a cleared space, walled in by the huge black pines. At
the foot of a tree sat a white man, his elbows on his
knees, his chin in his hands. The man was Walter
Butler.
On his right sat Brant, wrapped in a crimson blanket ,
face painted black and scarlet. On his K ft knelt
a ghastly figure wearing a scowling wooden mask
painted yellow and bla
Six separate groups of Indians surrounded the fires.
They were sachems of the Six Nations, each sachem
bearing in his hands the symbol of his nation and of
his clan. All were wrapped in black-and-white blankets,
and tluir faces were painted v.lute above the upper IIP
as though they wore skin-tight masks.
ee young girls, naked save for the beaded clout,
and painted scarlet from brow to ankle, beat the witch-
drums tump-a-tump! tuinp-a- tump! while a fourth
stood, erect as a vermilion statue, holding a chain
belt woven in black-and-white wampum
Behind these central figures the firelight fell on a
solid M of savages, crowns shaved, feathers
aslant on the braided lock, and all oiled and painted
for war.
A chief, wrapped in a blue blanket, stepped out into
the circle summing the carcass of a white dog by the
hind -legs. He tied it to a black -birch sapling and
K ft it d .inkling and turning round and round.
\eepers of th laid, in Tus-
carora, and flung the dog's entraiK into the middle fire.
Three young men sprang into the ring; each threw
a log onto one of the fires.
232
THE FALSE-FACES
"The name of the Holder of the Heavens may now
be spoken and heard without offence/' said an old
sachem, rising. "Hark! brothers. Harken, O you
wise men and sachems! The False-Faces are laugh-
ing in the ravine where the water is being painted with
firelight. I acquaint you that the False -Faces are
coming up out of the ravine!"
The witch-drums boomed and rattled in the silence
that followed his words. Far off I heard the sound of
many voices laughing and talking all together; near-
er, nearer, until, torch in hand, a hideously masked
figure bounded into the circle, shaking out his bristling
cloak of green reeds. Another followed, another, then
three, then six, then a dozen, whirling their blazing
torches; all horribly masked and smothered in coarse
bunches of long, black hair, or cloaked with rustling
river reeds.
"Hal Ah-weh-hot-kwahf
Hal Ah-weh-hahf
Hal Tlu- crimson flower'
Hal The flower I"
they chanted, thronging around the central fire; then
falling back in a half-circle, torches lifted, while the
masked figures banked solidly behind, chanted monot-
onously :
n Red fire burns on the maple I
Red fire burns in the pines.
The red flower to the ma pie I
The red death to the pines I"
At this two young girls, wearing white feathers and
white weasel pelts dangling from shoulders to knees,
entered the ring from opposite ends. Their arms were
full of those spectral blossoms called "Ghost-corn/'
and they strewed the flowers around the ring in silence.
Then three maidens, glistening in cloaks of green pine-
233
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
aeedles, slipped into the tire circle, throwing showers
of violets and yellow moccasin flowers over the earth,
calling out, amid laughter, "Moccasins for whipjwor-
willsl Violets for the two heads entangled!" And,
their arms empty of blossoms, they danced a\\
laughing while the False -Faces clattered their wood-
en masks and swung their torches till the flames
whistled.
Then six sachems rose, casting off their black-and-
white blankets, and each in turn planted branches of
yellow willow, green willow, red osier, samphire. \s itch-
hazel, spice-bush, and silver birch along the edge of
the silent throng of savages.
" Until the night-sun comes be these your barriers,
O IroquoisI" they chanted. And all answered :
The Cherry-maid shall lock the gates to the People
of the Morning! A-e! ja-e! Wild cherry and cherry
that is red!"
Then came the Cherry-maid, a slender creatu
from head to foot with thick bunches of wild cherries
which danced and swung when she walked; and the
False-Faces plucked the fruit from her as she passed
around, laughing and tossing her black hair, until
she had been despoiled and only the garment of sewed
leaves hung from shoulder to ankle
A green blanket was spread for her and she sat
down under the branch of witch-hazel.
"The barrier is closed!" she said. "Kindle
coals from Onondaga, O you Keepers of the Central
An aged sachem arose, and, lifting his withered arm,
swept it eastward.
" The hearth is cleansed," he said, feebly. " Broth-
era, attend I She-who-runs is coming. Listen!"
A dead silence fell over the throng, broken only by
the rustle of the flames. After a moment, very fa;
234
THE FALSE-FACES
away in the forest, something sounded like the muffled
gallop of an animal, paddy-pad! paddy-pad, coming
nearer and ever nearer.
"It's the Toad- woman 1" gasped Mount in my
ear. "It's the Huron witch! Ah! My God! look
there!"
Hopping, squattering, half scrambling, half bound-
ing into the firelight came running a dumpy creature
all fluttering with scarlet rags. A coarse mat of gray
hair masked her visage ; she pushed it aside and raised
a dreadful face in the red fire-glow a face so marred,
so horrible, that I felt Mount shivering in the dark-
ness beside me.
Through the hollow boom-boom of the witch-drums
I heard a murmur swelling from the motionless crowd,
like a rising wind in the pines. The hag heard it too ;
her mouth widened, splitting her ghastly visage. A
single yellow fang caught the firelight.
"O you People of the Mountain! O you Ononda-
gas!" she cried. " I am come to ask my Cayugas and
my Senecas why they assemble here on the Kennyettc
when their council-fire and yours should burn at On
ondaga! O you Oneidas, People of the Standing
Stone! I am come to ask my Senecas, my Mountain-
snakes, why the Keepers of the Iroquois Fire have let
it go out? you of the three clans, let your ensigns
rise and listen. I speak to the Wolf, the Turtle, and
the Bear! And I call on the seven kindred clans of
the Wolf, and the two kindred clans of the Turtle, and
the four kindred clans of the Bear throughout the Six
Nations of the Iroquois confederacy, throughout the
clans of the Lenni-Lenape, throughout the Huron-Al-
gonquins and their clans!
" And I call on the False-Faces of the Spirit-water
and the Water of Light!"
She shook her scarlet rags and, raising her arm
235
Till: MA1D-AT-ARMS
hurled a hatchet into a painted post which stood be-
hind the central lire.
"O you Caj'ugas, People of the Carry in u-place!
ike that war-post with your hatchets or face the
ghosts of your fathers in every trail ! "
There was a deathly silence. Catrine Montour
closed her horrible little eyes, threw back her head,
and, marking time with her flat foot, began to chant
chanted the glory of t \* House; of the
nations that drove the Erics, the Hurons, the Al->n-
quins; of the nation that purged the earth of the Stn-
Giants; of the nation that fought the dreadful battle
of the Flying Heads. She sang the triumph of the
confederacy, the bonds that linked the Elder Broth
and Elder Sons with the Esaurora, whose tongue was
the sign of council unr
And the circle of savages began to sway in rhythm
to her chanting, answering back, callin : their chul-
:e from clan to clan; until, suddenly, the Senecas
sprang to their feet and drove their hatehets into the
war-post, challenging the Lenape with their own bat-
thxrry:
Ha-ha! Hagh! Yoagh!"
Then the Mohawks raised their truck
the post; and the Cayugas answered with a terrible
cry, striking the post, and calling out for the N
Youngest Son meaning the Tuscaroras to draw
I hatchets.
" Have the Seminoles made women of you?" screamed
Catrine Montour, menacing the sachems of the Tus-
caroras with clinched lists.
"Let the Lenape tell you of women!" retorted a
Tuscarora sachem, cali:
At this opening of an old wound the Oneidas called
on the Lenape to answer; hut the Lenape sat sullen
and silent, with flashing eyes fixed on the Mohawks*
THE FALSE-FACES
Then Catrine Montour, lashing herself into a fury,
screamed for vengeance on the people who had broken
the chain -belt with the Long House. Raving and
frothing, she burst into a torrent of prophecy, which
silenced every tongue and held every Indian fasci-
nated.
" Look ! " whispered Mount. " The Oneidas are draw-
ing their hatchets ! The Tuscaroras will follow 1 The
Iroquois will declare for warl"
Suddenly the False-Faces raised a ringing shout :
"Kree! Ha-ha! Kre-e!"
And a hideous creature in yellow advanced, rattling
his yellow mask.
Catrine Montour, slavering and gasping, leaned
against the painted war-post Into the fire-ring came
dancing a dozen girls, all strung with brilliant wam-
pum, their bodies and limbs painted vermilion, sleeve-
less robes of wild iris hanging to their knees. With a
shout they chanted :
"O False -Faces, prepare to do honor to the truth!
She who Dreams has come from her three sisters the
Woman of the Thunder-cloud, the Woman of the Sound-
ing Footsteps, the Woman of the Murmuring Skies!"
And, joining hands, they cried, sweetly: "Come,
O Little Rosebud Woman! Ke-neance-e-qua ! 0-gin-
e-o-qua! Woman of the Rose!"
And all together the False-Faces cried: "Welcome
to Ta-lu-la, the leaping waters! Here is I--nia, the
wanderer's rest! Welcome, O Woman of the Rose!"
Then the grotesque throng of the False-Faces parted
right and left; a lynx, its green eyes glowing, paced
out into the firelight; and behind the tawny tree-cat
came slowly a single figure a young girl, bare of
breast and arm; belted at the hips with silver, from
which hung a straight breadth of doeskin to the instep
of her bare feet Her dark hair, parted, fell in two
237
THE MA1D-AT-ARMS
heavy braids to her knees; her lips were tinted with
scarlet ; her small ear-lobes and finger-tips were stained
a faint rose-ci 1
In the breathless * he raised her head. Sir
George's crushing grip clutched my arm, and he fell
a-shuddering like a man with ague.
The figure before us was Magdalen Brai
The lynx lay down at her feet and looked her steadily
in the face.
Slowly she raised her rounded arm, opened her
empty palm; then from space she seemed to pluck ,t
rose, and I saw it there between her forefinger and her
thui
A startled murmur broke from the throng. "Magic!
She plucks blossoms from the empty air I"
"O you Oneidas," came the sweet, serene voice, "at
the tryst of the False-Paces I have kept my tryst
" You wise men of the Six Nations, listen now at*
tcntiM'ly; and you, ensigns and attestants, attend,
honoring the truth which from my twin lips shall flow,
sweetly as new honey and as sap from April maples."
She stooped and picked from the ground a withered
leaf, holding it o r small, pink palm.
l.ii.r this withered leaf is your understanding.
1 1 is for a maid to quicken y< as I re-
store this last year's leaf to life," she said, deliber-
ately.
In her open palm the dry, gray leaf quivered, moved,
straightened, slowly turned moist and fresh and green.
Through the intense silence the heavy, gasj rath
of hundreds of savages told of the tension they strug-
gled under.
She dropped the leaf to her feet; gradually it lost its
green and curled up again, a brittle, ashy flake.
" O you Oneidas I" she cried, in that clear voice which
seemed to leave a floating melody in the air. " I have
THE FALSE-FACES
talked with ray Sisters of the Murmuring Skies, and
none but the lynx at my feet heard us."
She bent her lovely head and looked into the creat-
ure's blazing orbs ; after a moment the cat rose, took
three stealthy steps, and lay down at her feet, closing
its emerald eyes.
The girl raised her head : " Ask me concerning the
truth, you sachems of the Oneida, and speak for the
five war-chiefs who stand in their paint behind you!"
An old sachem rose, peering out at her from dim,
aged eyes.
" Is it war, Woman of the Rose?" he quavered.
"Neah!" she said, sweetly.
An intense silence followed, shattered by a scream
from the hag, Catrine.
" A lie! It is war! You have struck the post, Cayu-
gas! Senecas! Mohawks 1 It is a liel Let this young
sorceress speak to the Oneidas ; they are hers ; the Tus-
caroras are hers, and the Onondagas and the Lenape!
Let them heed her and her dreams and her witchcraft!
It concerns not you, O Mountain-snakes! It concerns
only these and False-Faces! She is their prophetess;
let her dream for them. I have dreamed for you,
Elder Brothers! And I have dreamed of war!!"
"And I of peace!" came the clear, floating voice,
soothing the harsh echoes of the hag's shrieking aj>-
peal. " Take heed, you Mohawks, and you Cayuga
war-chiefs and sachems, that you do no violence to this
council-fire!"
"The Oneidas are women!" yelled the hag.
Magdalen Brant made a curiously graceful gesture,
as though throwing something to the ground from her
empty hand. And, as all looked, something did strike
the ground something that coiled and hissed and rat-
tled a snake, crouched in the form of a letter S; and
the lynx turned its head, snarling, every hair erect.
239
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"Mohawks and Cayugas!" she cried; "are you to
judge the Oneidas? you who dare not take this rat-
tke in your hands?"
There was no reply. She smiled and lifttxl the N
It coiled up in her palm, rattling and liftn
ble head to the level of her eyes. The lynx growled,
lie said, soothingly. "The snake h.ts
gone, Tahagoos, my friend. Behold, my hand is
v ; Sa-kwe-en-ta, the Panged One has gone."
It was true. There was nothing where, an instant
before, I myself had seen the dread thing, crest sway-
>n a level with her eyes.
"Will you be swept away by this young witch's
magic?" shrieked Catrine Montour.
ed Magdalen Brant, "the way is
clearedl Hiro [I have si
Then the sachems of the Oneida stood up, wrapping
:nselves in their blankets, and moved silently away,
tiling into the forest, followed by the war and
those who had accompanied the Oneida delegation
as attestants.
"Tuscarorast" said Magdalen Brant, quietly.
The Tuscarora sachems rose and passed out into
the darkness, followed by their suite of war-chiefs and
attestants.
"Onondagas!"
All but two of the Onondaga delega R the
K il-fire. Amid a profound silence the Lenape fal-
lowed, and in their wake stalked three tall Mol
Walter Butler sprang up from the base of the tree
where he had been sitting and pointed a shaking lin-
ger at Magdalen Brant :
"Damn you!" he shouted; "if you call on my Mo-
hawks, 111 cut your throat, you witch'"
Brant bounded to his feet and caught Butler's rigid,
outstretched arm.
240
THE FALSE-FACES
" Are you mad, to violate a council-fire?" he said,
furiously. Magdalen Brant looked calmly at Butler,
then deliberately laced the sachems.
"Mohawks!" she called, steadily.
There was a silence; Butler's black eyes v/ere al-
most starting from his bloodless visage; the hag,
Montour, clawed the air in helpless fury.
"Mohawks!" repeated the girl, quietly.
Slowly a single war-chief rose, and, casting aside
his blanket, drew his hatchet and struck the war-post.
The girl eyed him contemptuously, then turned again
and called :
"Senecas!"
A Seneca chief, painted like death, strode to the post
and struck it with his hatchet.
"Cayuga!" called the mrl, steadily.
A Cayuga chief sprang at the post and struck it twice.
Roars of applause shook the silence; then a masked
figure leaped towards the central fire, shouting: "The
False-Faces' feast ! Ho ! I loh ! HOKX >h ! "
In a moment the circle was a scene of terrific excesses.
Masked figures pelted each other with live coals from
the fires; dancing, shrieking, yelping demons leaped
about whirling their blazing torches; witch-drums
boomed ; chant after chant was raised as new dancers
plunged into the delirious throng, whirling the car-
casses of white dogs, painted with blue and yellow
stripes. The nauseating stench of burned roast meat
filled the air, as the False-Faces brought quarters of
venison and baskets of fish into the circle and dumixjd
them on the coals.
Faster and more furious grew the dance of the False-
Faces. The flying coals flew in every direction, stream-
ing like shooting-stars across the fringing darkness.
A grotesque masker, wearing the head-dress of a bull,
hurled his torch into the air ; the flaming brand lodged
> 241
Till- MAID-AT-ARMS
in the feathery top of a pine, the foliar caught fire,
and with a crackling rush a vast whirlwind of flame
and smoke streamed skyward from the forest giant.
" To-wen-yon-go [It touches the sky]!" howled the
/.ed dancers, leaping about, while faster and faster
came the volleys of live coals, until a young girl's hair
caught fire.
"Kah-none-ye-tah-we!" they cried, falling back ami
forming a chain around her as she wrung the sparks
ii her long hair, laughing and leaping about be-
tween the flying coals.
Then the nine sachems of the Mohawks rose, all
ering their breasts with their blankets, save the chief
sachem, who is called "The Two Voices." The ser-
ried circle fell back, Senecas, Cayugas, and Mohav
itniK their battle-cries; scores of hatchets glittered,
knives flashed.
All alone in the circle stood Magdalen Brant, slim,
straight, motionless as a tinted statue, her hands on
her hips. Reflections of the fires played over her, in
amber and pearl and rose; violet lights lay under her
eyes and where the hair shadowed hrr hrow. Then,
through the silence, a loud voice cried : " Little Rosebud
Woman, the False-Paces thank you! Koon-wah-yah-
vas [They are burning the white dog]!"
She raised her head and laid a ! heek.
" Neah-wen-ha (I thank you]," she said, soft
At the word the lynx rose and looked up into her
face, then turned and paced slowly across the circle,
green eyes glowing.
The young girl loosened the braids of her hair: a
thick, dark cloud fell over her bare shoulders and
breasts.
" She veils her face!" chanted the False-Faces. " Re-
spect the veil! Adieu, O Woman of the Rose!"
Her hands fell, and, with l>ent head, moving slow-
242
THE FALSE-FACES
ly, pensively, she passed out of the infernal circle, the
splendid lynx stalking at her heels.
No sooner was she gone than hell itself broke loose
among the False-Faces; the dance grew madder and
madder, the terrible rite of sacrifice was enacted with
frightful symbols. Through the awful din the three
war- cries pealed, the drums advanced, thundering;
the iris-maids lighted the six little fires of black-birch,
spice-wood, and sassafras, and crouched to inhale the
aromatic smoke until, stupefied and quivering in every
limb with the inspiration of delirium, they stood erect,
writhing, twisting, tossing their hair, chanting the
splendors of the future!
Then into the crazed orgie leaped the Toad-woman
like a gigantic scarlet spider, screaming prophecy and
performing the inconceivable and nameless rites of
Ak-e, Ne-ke, and Ge-zis, until, in her frenzy, she went
stark mad, and the devil worship began with the aw-
ful sacrifice of Leshee in Biskoonah.
Horror-stricken, nauseated, I caught Mount's arm,
whispering : " Enough, in God's name ! Come away 1 "
My ears rang with the distracted yelping of the
Toad-woman, who was strangling a dog. Faint, al-
most reeling, I saw an iris-girl fall in convulsions ; the
stupefying smoke blew into my face, choking me. I
staggered back into the darkness, feeling my way
among the unseen trees, gasping for fresh air. Be-
hind me, Mount and Sir George came creeping, grop-
ing like blind men along the cliffs.
"This way," whispered Mount
XVI
ON SCOUT
CKE a pursued man hunted through a dream, I la-
bored on, leaden-limbed, trembling ; and it seamed
hours and hours ere the blue starlight broke overhead
and Beacraft's dark house loomed stark and empty on
the stony hill
Suddenly the ghostly call of a whippoorwill broke
out from the willows. Mount answered ; Elerson ap-
peared in the path, making a sign for silence.
igdalen Brant entered the house an hour since/'
he whispered. "She sits yonder on the door-step. I
think she has fallen asleci
We stole forward through the dusk to\vards the si-
lent figure on the door-step. She sat there, her head
fallen back against the closed door, her small hands
King half open in her lap. Under her closed eyes the
dark circles of fatigue lay ; a faint trace of rose paint
still dung to her lips; and from the ragged skirt of her
thorn-rent gown one small foot was thrust, showing
a silken shoe and ankle stained with mud.
There she lay, sleeping, this maid who, with her frail
strength, had split forever the most powerful and an-
cient confederacy the world had ever known
Her superb sacrifice of self, her proud indifference
to delicacy and shame, her splendid acceptance of the
degradation, her instant and fearless execution of the
only plan which could save the land from war with a
244
SCOUT
united confederacy, had left us stunned with admira-
tion and helpless gratitude.
Had she gone to them as a white woman, using the
arts of civilized persuasion, she could have roused
them to war, but she could not have soothed them to
peace. She knew it even I knew that among the
Iroquois the Ruler of the Heavens can never speak to
an Indian through the mouth of a white woman.
As an Oneida, and a seeress of the False -Faces,
she had answered their appeal. Using every symbol,
every ceremony, every art taught her as a child, she
had swayed them, vanquishing with mystery, con-
quering, triumphing, as an Oneida, where a single
false step, a single slip, a moment's faltering in her
sweet and serene authority might have brought out
the appalling cry of accusation :
"Her heart is white!"
And not one hand would have been raised to prevent
the sacrificial test which must follow and end inevitably
in a dreadful death.
Mount and Elerson, moved by a rare delicacy, turned
and walked noiselessly away towards the hill-top.
"Wake her," I said to Sir George.
He knelt beside her, looking long into her face; then
touched her lightly on the hand. She opened her eyes,
looked up at him gravely, then rose to her feet, steady-
ing herself on his bent arm.
"Where have you been?" she asked, glancing anx-
iously from him to me. There was the faintest rimr
of alarm in her voice, a tint of color on cheek and tem-
ple. And Sir George, lying like a gentleman, answered :
" We have searched the trails in vain for you. Where
have you lain hidden, child?"
Her lips parted in an imperceptible sigh of relief:
the pallor of weariness returned.
245
Till: MAID-AT-ARMS
" I have been upon your business, Sir George," she
said, looking down at her mud -stained garments.
Her arms fell to her side; she made a little gesture
with one limp hand. " You see/' she said, "I prom-
ised you/' Then she turned, mounting the steps, pen-
sively; and, in the doorway, paused an instant, look*
ini: back at him over her shoulder.
And all that ni^ht, Iving close to the verge of slum-
ber, I heard Sir George pacing the stony yard under
the great stars; while the riflemen, stretched bt
the hearth, snored heavily, and the death-\\ Ued
iu the wall.
At dawn we three were afield, nosing the Sacanda-
ga trail to count the trades leading to the north the
dread footprints of light, swift feet whuh must re-
turn one day bringing to the Mohawk Valley an awful
reckoning.
At noon we returned. I wrote out my report and
gave it to Sir George. We spoke little together. I
did not see Magdalen Brant again until they bade me
adieu.
And now it was two o'clock in the afternoon
George had already set out with Magdalen Hrant to
Varicks' by way of Stoner's ; Elerson and > i ood
I v the door, waiting to pilot me towards Gansevoort's
distant outposts ; the noon sunshine filled the deserted
house and fell across the table where I sat, read HILT
over my instructions from Schuyler ere I committed
the paper to the flames.
So far, no thanks to myself, I had carried out my
orders in all save the appn n of Walter Butler.
And now I was uncertain whether to remain and hang
around the council tin^ for an opportunity to
seize Butler, or whether to push on at once, warn Ganse-
voort at Stanwix that St Leger's motley army had
246
ON SCOUT
set out ficm Oswego, and then return to trap Butler at
my leisure.
I crumpled the despatch into a ball and tossed it
onto the live coals in the fireplace; the paper smoked,
caught fire, and in a moment more the black flakes sank
into the ashes.
"Shall we burn the house, sir?" asked Mount, as I
came to the doorway and looked out
I shook my head, picked up rifle, pouch, and sack,
and descended the steps. At the same instant a man
appeared at the foot of the hill, and Elerson waved his
hand, saying : " Here's that mad Irishman, Tim Mur-
phy, back already."
Murphy came jauntily up the hill, saluted me with
easy respect, and drew from his pouch a small packet
of papers which he handed me, nodding carelessly at
Elerson and staring hard at Mount as though he did
not recognize him.
"Phwat's this?" he inquired of Elerson "a Frinch
cooroor, or maybe a Sac shquaw in a buck's shirrt?"
" Don't introduce him to me," said Mount to Elerson ;
"he'll try to kiss my hand, and I hate ceremony."
"Quit foolin'," said Elerson, as the two big, over-
grown boys seized each other and began a rough-and-
tumble frolic. "You're just cuttin' capers, Tim, be-
cuz you've heard that we're takin' the war-path quit
pullin' me, you big Irish elephant 1 Is it true we're
takin' the war-path?"
"How do I know?" cried Murphy; but the twinkle
in his blue eyes betrayed him; "bedad, 'tis home to
the purty lasses we go this blessed day, f'r the crool
war is over, an' the King's got the pip, an "
"Murphy!" I said.
"Sorr," he replied, letting go of Mount and stand-
ing at a respectful slouch.
"Did you get Beacraft there in safety?"
247
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"I did, sorr."
"Any trouble?"
"None, sorr fr me."
I opened the first despatch, looking at him keenly.
" Do we take the war-path?" I asked.
" We do, sorr," he said, blandly. " McDonald 's in the
hills wid the McCraw an' ten score renegades. Wan o'
tluir scouts struck old man Schell's farm an' he put
buckshot into sivintecn o' them, or I'm a liar where
I shtai
* I knew it," muttered Elerson to Mount. "Where
you see smoke, there's fire; where you see Murphv,
there's trouble. Look at the grin on him and his
hatch ed up like a Cayuga's war-axel"
I opened the despatch; it was from Schuyl
termanduiL: Ins instructions for me to go to Stan-
wix, an-' ni: me to warn every settlement in tin-
Kingsland district that McDonald and some three
hundred Indians and renegades were loose on the
Schoharie, and that their outlying scouts had struck
Broadalbin.
I broke the wax of the second despatch; it was from
Harrow, briefly thanking me for the capture of Bea-
craft, adding that the man had been sent to Albany
to await court-martial.
That meant that Beacraft must hang; a most dis-
agreeable feeling came over me, and I tore open the
third and last paper, a bulky document, and read it
VARICK MANOR,
" June the 2d.
"An hour to dawn.
' ' In my bedroom I am writing to you the adieu I should have
said the night you left Murphy, a rifleman, goes to you with
despatches in an hour ; he will take this to you, . . . wherever you
are.
"I saw the man you sent in. Father says he must surely
248
ON SCOUT
hang. He was so pale and silent, he looked so dreadfully tired
and I have been crying a little I don't know why, because all
say he is a great villain.
"I wonder whether you are well and whether you remember
me." ("me" was crossed out and "us" written very care-
fully.) " The house is so strange without you. I go into your
room sometimes. Cato has pressed all your fine clothes. I go
into your room to read. The light is very good there. I am
reading the Poems of Pansard. You left a fern between the pages
to mark the poem called ' Our Deaths ' ; did you know it? Do you
admire that verse? It seems sad to me. And it is not true,
either. Lovers seldom die together." (This was crossed out,
and the letter went on.) " Two people who love " (" love "
was crossed out heavily and the line continued) " two friends
seldom die at the same instant. Otherwise there would be no
terror in death.
" I forgot to say tliat Isene, your mare, is very well. Papa
and the children are well, and Ruyven a-pestering General Schuy-
ler to make him a cornet in the legion of horse, and Cecile, all airs,
goes about with six officers to carry her shawl and fan.
"For me I sit with Lady Schuyler when I have the opportu-
nity. I love her ; she is so quiet and gentle and lets me sit by her
for hours, perfectly silent. Yesterday she came into your room,
where I was sitting, and she looked at me for a long time so
strangely and I asked her why, and she shook her head. And
after she had gone I arranged your linen and sprinkled lavender
among it.
" You see there is so little to tell you, except that in the after-
noon some Seneca s and Tories shot at one of our distant tenants,
a poor man, one Christian Schell ; and he beat them off and killed
eleven, which was very brave, and one of the soldiers made a rude
song about it, and they have been singing it all night in their
quarters. I heard them from your room where I sometimes
eleep the air being good there ; and this is what they sang :
" ' A story, a story
Unto you I will teH,
Concerning a brave hero.
One Christian Schell.
*' Who was attacked by the savages*
And Tories, it is said;
But for this attack
Most freely they bled.
249
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
** He fled unto his house
For to save his life,
Where he had left his arms
In care of hrs wife.
"' They advanced upon him
And began to fire.
But Christian with his blunderbus*
Soon made them retire.
He wounded Donald McDonald
And drew him in the door.
Who gave an account
Their strength was sixty-four.
"Six there was wounded
And eleven there was killed
Of this said party.
Before they quit the field.'
M And I think there are a hundred other verses, which I wiD
spare you; not that I forget them, for the soldiers sang them
over and over, and I had nothing better to do than to lie awake
and listen.
" So that is all. I hear my mnssenggr moving about below ; I
am to drop this letter down to him, as all are asleep, and to open
the big door might wake them.
M Good4>ye.
.
* It was not my rifleman, only the sentry. They keep double
watch since 'he news came about Schell.
** Good-b^e. I am thinking of you.
" DOROTHY.
** Postscript Plea se make my compliments and adieux to Sir
George Covert
* Postscript The rifleman is here ; he is whistling like a whip*
poorwill. I must say good-bye. I am mad to go with him. Do
not forget me I
" My memories are so keen, so pitilessly real, I can scarce en-
dure them, yet cling to them the more desperately.
" I did not mean to write this truly I did not! But hen
the dusk, I can see your face just as it looked when you said
good-bye I so close that I could take it in my arms despite my
vows and yours)
250
ON SCOUT
" Help me to reason ; for even God cannot, or will not, help me;
knowing, perhaps, the dreadful after-life He has doomed me to
for all eternity. If it is true that marriages are made in heaven,
where was mine made? Can you answer? I cannot. (Tlie
whimper of tfte whippoorwill again I) Dearest, good-bye. Where
my body lies matters nothing so that you hold my soul a little
while. Yet. even of that they must rob you one day. Oh, if
even in dying there is no happiness, where, where does it abide?
Three places only have I heard of : the world, heaven, arid hell.
God forgive me. but I think the last could cover all.
" Say that you love me I Say it to the forest, to the wind. Per-
haps my soul, which follows you. may hear if you only say it.
(Once more the ghost-call of the whippoorwill/) Dear lad. good*
bycf
xvn
THE FLAG
DAY after day our little scout of four traversed
roads and forests of the Kingsland district, warn-
ing the people at the outlying settlements and farms
that the county militia-call was out, and that safety
lay only in r families to the forts and
responding to the summons of authority without delay.
Many obeyed; some rash or stubborn settlers
pared to defend their homes. A few made no response,
doubtless sympathizing with their T< As who
had fled to join McDonald or Sir John Johnson in the
North.
Rumors were flying thick, every settle -nu-nt had its
full covey; every cross-road tavern buzzed with gos-
sip. As we travelled from settlement to settUn
we, too, heard something <>f v. hat had happened in
I : how the Schoharie militia had been
called out; how one Hudson had been captured as
he was gathering a band of Tories to join the Butlers ;
how a certain Captain Ball had raised a company of
sixty-three royalists at Beaverdam and was fled to
Jhn ; how Captain George Mann, of the mi-
litia, refused service, declaring himself a royalist, and
disbanding his company; how Adam Crysler had
thrown his important influence in favor of the Ki
and that the inhabitants of Tryon County were ghx
and depressed, seeing so many respectable gentlemen
siding with the Tories.
252
THE FLAG
We learned that the Schoharie and Schenectady mi-
litia had refused to march unless some provision was
made to protect their families in their absence; that
congress had therefore established a corps of invalids,
consisting of eight companies, each to have one captain,
two lieutenants, two ensigns, five sergeants, six corpor-
als, two drums, two fifes, and one hundred men ; one
company to be stationed in Schoharie, and to be called
the " Associate Exempts " ; that three forts for the pro-
tection of the Schoharie Valley were nearly finished,
called the Upper, Lower, and Middle forts.
More sinister still were the rumors from the British
armies : Burgoyne was marching on Albany from the
north with the finest train of artillery ever seen in
America; St Leger was moving from the west; Mc-
Donald had started already, flinging out his Indian
scouts as far as Perth and Broadalbin, and Sir Henry
Clinton had gathered a great army at New York and
was preparing to sweep the Hudson Valley from Fish-
kill to Albany. And the focus of these three armies
and of Butler's, Johnson's, and McDonald's renegades
and Indians was this unhappy county of Tryon, torn
already with internal dissensions; unarmed, unpro-
visioned, unorganized, almost ungarrysoned.
I remember, one rainy day towards sunset, coming
into a small hamlet where, in front of the church,
some score of farmers and yokels were gathered, mar-
shalled into a single line. Some were armed with rifles,
some with blunderbusses, some with spears and hay-
forks. None wore uniform. As we halted to watch
the pathetic array, their fifer and drummer wheeled out
and marched down the line, playing Yankee Doodle.
Then the minister laid down his blunderbuss and, fac-
ing the company, raised his arms in prayer, invoking
the " God of Armies " as though he addressed his sup-
plication before a vast armed host.
253
THE MAID-AT ARMS
THE FLAG
Yal
'it
e
-WeVk
.-. -
: . = -
- A
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
anchored in some frontier haven than they fell to
dreaming of the wilderness, of the far in the
trackless sea of trees, of the winds ruffling the forest's
crests till ten thousand trees toss their leaves, silver
side up, as white-caps flash, rolling in long patches on
a heaving waste of waU
Yet, in all those weeks I never heard one word or
hint of that devotion expressed or implied, not one
trace of appreciation, not one shadow of sentinit
If I ventured to speak of the vast beauty of the woods,
there was no response from my shy companions; one
appeared to vie with another in concealing all feeling
under a careless mask and a bantering manner.
Once only can I recall a voluntary expression of
pleasure in beauty; it came fnun Jack Mount, one
blue night in July, when the heavens flashed \\\
summer stars till the vaulted skies seemed plated solid-
ly with crusted gems.
hem stars look kind of nice," he said, then colored
with embarrassment and spat a quid of spruce-gum
the camp-i
Yet humanity demands some outlet for accumulated
sentiment, and these men found it in the dirge-like
songs and laments and rude ballads of the wilderness,
which I think bear a close resemblance to the sailer
men's songs, in words as well as in the dolorous i
odies, fit only for the scraping whine of a two-string
fiddle in a sugar-camp.
The magic of June faded from the forests, smoth-
ered under the magnificent and deeper glory of July's
golden green ; the early summer ripened into August,
mir us still afoot in tin Kini^sland district gathering
in the loyal, warning the rash, comforting the down-
cast, threatening the suspected. T sses
bound for Saratoga, I sent full reports toSchuyler, hut
received no further orders. I wondered whether he was
256
THE FLAG
displeased at my failure to arrest Walter Butler; and
we redoubled our efforts to gain news of him. Three
times we heard of his presence in or near the Kingsland
district: once at Tribes Hill, once at Fort Plain, and
once it was said he was living quietly in a farm-house
near Johnstown, which he had the effrontery to enter
in broad daylight But we failed to come up with him,
and to this day I do not know whether any of this in-
formation we received was indeed correct. It was the
first day of August when we heard of Butler's presence
near Johnstown; we had been lying at a tavern called
" The Brick House/' a two-story inn standing where the
Albany and Schenectady roads fork near Fox Creek,
and there had been great fear of McDonald's renegades
that week, and I had advised the despatch of an ex-
press to Albany asking for troops to protect the valley
when 1 chanced to overhear a woman say that firing
had been heard in the direction of Stanwix.
The woman, a slattern, who was known by the
unpleasant name of Rya's Pup, declared that Walter
Butler had gone to Johnstown to join St Leger before
Stanwix, and that the Tories would give the rebels
such a drubbing that we would all be crawling on our
bellies yelling for quarter this day week. As the wench
was drunk, I made little of her babble; but the next
day Murphy and Elerson, having been in touch with
Gansevoort's outposts, returned to me with a note from
Colonel Willett:
* FORT SCHUYLER (STANWIX),
"August 2d.
"DEAR SIR, I transmit to you the contents of a letter from
Colonel Gansevoort, dated July 28th :
" ' Yesterday, at three o'clock in the afternoon, our garrison
^aa alarmed with the firing of four guns. A party of men was
'nstantly despatched to the place where the guns were fired, which
the edge of the woods, about five hundred vards from the
* 257
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
fort ; but they were too late. The villains were fled, after having
shot three young girls who were out picking raspberries, two of
whom were lying scalped and tomahawked ; one dead and the
r expiring, who died in about half an hour after she was
brought home. The third had a bullet through her face, and
crawled away, lying hid until we arrived. It was pitiful. The
child may live, but has lost her mind.
" ' This was accomplished by a scout of sixteen Tories of Colo-
nel John Butler's command and two savages, Mohawks, all under
direction of Captain Walter Butler/
" This, sir, is a revised copy of Colonel Gansevoort's letter to
Colonel Van Schaick. Permit me to add, with the full approval
of Colonel Gansevoort, that the scout under your command warns
the militia at Whitestown of the instant approach of Colonel Barry
!>eger's regular troops, reinforced by Sir John Johnson's reg-
iment of Royal Greens, Colonel Butler's Rangers, McCraw's out-
laws, and seven hundred Mohawk, Seneca, and Cayuga warriors
under Brant and Walter Butler. I will add. air. that we shall
hold this fort to the end. Respectfully.
MARINUS WILLETT,
cu tenant-Colonel."
Standing knee-deep in the thick undergrowth, I read
:er aloud to my riflenu n. amid a shocked silcn
then folded it ismission to General Schuyler
when opportunity might offer, and signed Murphy to
lead forward.
So Rya's Pup was right Walter Butler had made
his first mark on the red Oswego trail I
We marched in absolute silence, Murphy leading,
every nerve on edge, straining eye and ear for a sign
of the enemy's scouts, now doubtless swarming for-
ward and to cover the British advance.
But the wilderness is vast, and two armies might
pass each other scarcely out of hail and never know.
Towards sundown 1 caught my first glimpse of a
hostile Iroquois war -party. We had halted behind
some rocks on a heavily timbered slope, and Mount
was scrutinizing the trail below, where a little brook
crossed it, flowing between mossy stones; when, with-
THE FLAG
out warning, a naked Mohawk stalked into the trail,
sprang from rock to rock, traversing the bed of the
brook like a panther, then leaped lightly into the trail
again and moved on. After him, in file, followed some
thirty warriors, naked save for the clout, all oiled and
painted, and armed with rifles. One or two glanced up
along our slope while passing, but a gesture from the
leader hastened their steps, and more quickly than I
can write it they had disappeared among the darken-
ing shadows of the towering timber.
"Bad luck!" breathed Murphy; "'tis a rocky road
to Dublin, but a shorter wan to helll Did you want
f 'r to shoot, Jack? Look at Dave Elerson an' th' thrig-
ger finger av him twitchin' all a-thremblel Wisha,
lad! lave the red omadhouns go. Arre you tired o'
the hair ye wear, Jack Mount? Come on out o' this,
ye crazy divill"
Circling the crossing - place, we swung east, then
south, coming presently to a fringe of trees through
which the red sunset glittered, illuminating a great
stretch of swamp, river, and cleared land beyond.
" Vender's the foort," whispered Murphy "ould Stan-
wix or Schuyler, as they call it now. Step this
way, sorr; ye can see it plain across the Mohawk
shwamps."
The red sunshine struck the three-cornered bastions
of the rectangular fort; a distant bayonet caught the
light and twinkled above the stockaded ditch like a
slender point of flame. Outside the works squads of
troops moved, relieving the nearer posts; working de-
tails, marching to and from the sawmill, were evidently
busy with the unfinished abattis; a long, low earth-
work, surmounted by a stockade and a block-house,
which, Murphy said, guarded the covered way to the
creek, swarmed with workmen plying pick and shovel
and crowbar, while the sentries walked their beats
259
THE MAID-AT-ARMR
above, watching the new road which crossed the creek
and ran through the swamp to the sawmill.
It i nge," said Mount, "that they have not
yet finished the fort"
1 1 is stranger yet," said Elerson, " that they should
work so close to the forest yonder. Look at that fa-
tigue-party drawing logs within pistol-shot of the
woods"
Before the rifleman could finish, a sentinel on the
northwest parapet fired his musket; the entire so
changed in a twinkling; the fatigue-party scattered,
dropping chains and logs; the workmen sprang ou
ditch and pit, running for the stockade; a man, driv-
ing a team of hones along the new road, jumped up
in his wagon and lashed his horses to a gallop across
the rough meadow; and I saw the wagon sway HILT
and bumping up the slope, followed by a squad of
troops on the double. Behind these ran a dozen men
driving some frightened cattle; soldiers swarmed out
the bastions, soldiers flung open the water gates,
soldiers hung over parapets, gesticulating and point-
ing westward.
Icnly from the bastion on the west angle of the
fort a shaft of flame leaped; a majestic cloud buried
the parapet, and the deep cannon-thunder shook the
evening air. Above the writhing smoke, now stained
pink in the sunset light, a flag crept jerkily up the
halyards of a tall flag -staff, higher, higher, until it
caught the evening wind aloft and floated la/ily out
s the new flag/' whispered Elerson, in an awed
e.
We stared at it, fascinated. Never before had the
Id seen that flag displayed. Blood-red and silver-
uhite the stripes rippled; the stars on the blue field
glimmered peacefully. There it floated, serene above
Vhe drifting cannon -smoke, the first American flag
260
THE FLAG
ever hoisted on earth. A freshening wind caught it,
blowing strong out of the flaming west; the cannon-
smoke eddied, settled, and curled, floating across its
folds. Far away we heard a faint sound from the
bastions. They were cheering.
Cap in hand I stood, eyes never leaving the flag;
Mount uncovered, Elerson and Murphy drew their
deer-skin caps from their heads in silence.
After a little while we caught the glimmer of steel
along the forest's edge; a patch of scarlet glowed in
the fading rays of sunset. Then, out into the open
walked a red -coated officer bearing a white flag and
attended by a drummer in green and scarlet
Far across the clearing we heard drums beating the
parley; and we knew the British were at the gates of
Stanwix, and that St. Leger had summoned the gar-
rison to surrender.
We waited ; the white flag entered the stockade gate,
only to reappear again, quickly, as though the fort's
answer to the summons had been brief and final. Scarce-
ly had the ensign reached the forest than bang! bang!
bang! bang! echoed the muskets, and the rifles spat
flame into the deepening dusk and the dark woods rang
with the war-yell of half a thousand Indians stripped
for the last battles that the Long House should ever
fight.
About ten o'clock that night we met a regiment
of militia on the Johnstown road, marching noisily
north towards Whitestown, and learned that General
Herkimer's brigade was concentrating at an Oneida
hamlet called Oriska, only eight miles by the river
highway from Stanwix, and a little to the east of Or-
iskany creek. An officer named Van Slyck also in-
formed me that an Oneida interpreter had just come
in, reporting St. Leger's arrival before Stanwix, and
261
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
warning Hcrkimer that an ambuscade had been pre-
pared for him should he advance to raise the siege of
the beleaguered fort
Learning that we also had seen the enemy at Stan-
wix, this officer begged us to accompany him to Oriska,
where our information might prove valuable to Gem
Herkimer. So I and my three riflemen fell in as the
troops tramped past; and I, for one, was astonished to
hear their drums beating so loudly in the enemy's
country, and to observe the careless indiscipline in the
ranks, where men talked loudly and their reckless
laughter often sounded above the steady rolling of the
drums,
"Are there no officers here to cuff their ears!" mut-
tered Mount, in disgust
"Bah!" sneered Elerson; "officers can't teach mi-
litiaonly a thrashing does 'era any good. After all,
our people are like the British, full o' contempt for
untried enemies. Do you recall how the red -coats
went swaggering about that matter o' Bunker Hill ?
They make no m re frontal attacks now, but lay am-
buscades, and thank their stars for the opportunity."
A soldier, driving an ox-team behind us, began to
sing that melancholy ballad called " St Glair's Defeat "
The entire company joined in the chorus, bewailing the
late disaster at Ticonderoga, till Jack Mount, nigh fran-
tic with disgust, leaped up into the cart and bawled out :
" If you must sing, damn you, I'll give something
that rings!"
And he lifted his deep, full-throated voice, sounding
the inarching song of "Morgan's Men."
" The Lord He is our rampart and our buckler and our shield f
We must aid Him cleanse His temple; we must follow Him
To His wrath we leave the guilty, for their punishment is sure ;
To His justice the downtrodden, for His mercy shall endure I*
262
THE FLAG
And out of the darkness the ringing chorus rose,
sweeping the column from end to end, and the echoing
drums crashed amenl
Yet there is a time for all things even for praising
God
xvm
ORISKANY
IT is due, no doubt, to my limited knowledge of mili-
tary s and to my lack of practical expen
that I did not see the battle of Oriskany as our Ins.
torians have recorded it; nor did I, before or during
the affair, notice any intelligent effort towards assum-
ing the offensive as described by those whose reports
portray an engagement in which, after the first onset,
some semblance of military order reigned.
So, as I do not feel at liberty to pict
a the pens of abler men, I must be content to de-
scribe only what I myself witnessed of that sad and
unnecessary tragedy.
For three days we had been camped near the clearing
called Oriska, which is on the south bank of the Mo-
hawk. Here the volunteers and militia of Tryon Coun-
ty were concentrating from Fort Dayton in the utmoet
disorder, their camps so foolishly pitched, so slovml v in
those matters pertaining to cleanliness and health, so
lequately guarded, that I saw no reason why our
twin enemies, St Leger and disease, should not make
an end of us ere we sighted the ramparts of Stanwix.
All night long the volunteer soldiery had been in-
subordinate ano riotous in the hamlet of Oriska,
thronging the roads, shouting, singing, disputing,
clamoring to be led against the enemy. Popular of*
ficers were cheered, unpopular officers jeered at, angry
voices raised outside headquarters, demanding to know
264
ORISKANY
why old Honikol Herkimer delayed the advance. Even
officers shouted, " Forward ! forward ! Wake up Honi-
kol!" And spoke of the old General derisively, even
injuriously, to their own lasting disgrace.
Towards dawn, when I lay down on the floor of a
barn to sleep, the uproar had died out in a measure;
but lights still flickered in the camp where soldiers
were smoking their pipes and playing cards by the
flare of sp i: nter-wood torches. As for the pickets, they
paid not the slightest attention to their duties, continu-
ally leaving their posts to hobnob with neighbors ; and
the indiscipline alarmed me, for what could one ex-
pect to find in men who roamed about where it pleased
them, howling their dissatisfaction with their com-
mander, and addressing their officers by their first
names?
At eight o'clock on that oppressive August morn-
ing, while writing a letter to my cousin Dorothy, which
an Oneida had promised to deliver, he being about to
start with a message to Governor Clinton, I was in-
terrupted by Jack Mount, who came into the barn, say-
ing that a company of officers were quarrelling in
front of the sugar-shack occupied as headquarters.
I folded my letter, sealed it with a bit of blue balsam
gum, and bade Mount deliver it to the Oneida runner,
while I stepped up the road.
Of all unseemly sights that I have ever had the
misfortune to witness, what I now saw was the most
shameful. I pushed and shouldered my way through
a riotous mob of soldiers and teamsters which choked
the highway; loud, angry voices raised in reproach or
dispute assailed my ears. A group of militia officers
were shouting, shoving, and gesticulating in front of
the tent where, rigid in his arm-chair, the General sat,
grim, narrow -eyed, silent, smoking a short clay pipe.
Bolt upright, behind him, stood his chief scout and in-
265
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
tcrpreter, a superb Oneida, in all the splendor of full
war-paint, blazing with scarlet.
Colonel Cox, a swaggering, intrusive, loud-voiced,
and smartly uniformed officer, made a sign for silence
and began haranguing the old man, evidently as spokes-
man for the party of impudent malcontents grouped
about him. I heard him demand that his men be led
against the British without further delay. I heard
him condemn delay as unreasonable and unwarrant-
able, and the terms of speech he used were unbecom-
ing to an officer.
" We call on you, sir, in the name of Tryon County,
to order us forward !" he said, loudly. " We are ready.
For God's sake give the order, sir! There is no time
to waste, I tdl you!"
The old General removed the pipe from his teeth and
leaned a little forward in his chair.
"Colonel Cox," he said, "I huff Adam Helmer to
Stanvix sent, nut der opject of inviting Colonel Ganse-
voort to addack py de rear ven ve addack py dot Kit
flank.
" So soon as Helmer comes dot fort py, Gansevoort he
fire cannon; und so soon I hear cannon, I march 1 Not
pefore, sir; not peforel"
"How do we know that Helmer and his men will
ever reach Stanwix?" shouted Colonel Paris, impa-
ly.
"Ve vait, und py un* py ve know," replied
kimer, undisturbed.
lie may be dead and scalped by n< eered
Colonel Visscher.
"Look you, Visscher/' said the old General; "it iss
I who am here to answer for your safety. Now comes
Spencer, my Oneida, mit a pelt, who svears to me dot
Brant und Butler an ambuscade haff made for me.
Vat I do? Eh? I vait for dot sortie? Gewiss!"
266
ORISKANY
He waved his short pipe.
"For vy am I an ass to march me py dot ambus-
cade? Such a foolishness iss dot talk! I stay me py
Oriskany till I dem cannon hear."
A storm of insolent protest from the mob of soldiers
greeted his decision; the officers gesticulated and
shouted insultingly, shoving forward to the edge of
the porch. Fists were shaken at him, cries of impa-
tience and contempt rose everywhere. Colonel Paris
flung his sword on the ground. Colonel Cox, crimson
with anger, roared: "If you delay another moment
the blood of Gansevoort's men be on your head!"
Then, in the tumult, a voice called out : " He's a
Tory ! We are betrayed 1 " And Colonel Cox shouted :
"He dares not march! He is a coward!"
White to the lips, the old man sprang from his chair,
narrow eyes ablaze, hands trembling. Colonel Bel-
linger and Major Frey caught him by the arm, begging
him to remain firm in his decision.
"Py Gott, no!" he thundered, drawing his sword.
"If you vill haff it so, your blood be on your heads!
Vorwarts!"
It is not for me to blame him in his wrath, when,
beside himself with righteous fury, he gave the bel-
lowing yokels their heads and swept on with them to
destruction. The mutinous fools who had called him
coward and traitor fell back as their outraged com-
mander strode silently through the disordered ranks,
noticing neither the proffered apologies of Colonel Paris
nor the stammered excuses of Colonel Cox. Behind
him stalked the tall Oneida, silent, stern, small eyes
flashing. And now began the immense uproar of de-
parture; confused officers ran about cursing and shout-
ing ; the smashing roll of the drums broke out, beating
the assembly; teamsters rushed to harness horses;
dismayed soldiers pushed and struggled through
267
THE MAJD-AT-ARMS
the mass, searching for their regiments and compa-
nies.
Mounted on a gaunt, gray horse, the General rode
through the disorder, quietly directing the incompe-
tent militia officers in their tasks of collecting their
nun; and behind him, splendidly horsed and cap;m-
soned, cantered the tall Onnda, known as Thomas
Spencer the Interpreter, calm, composed, inscrutable
eyes fixed on his beloved leader and
The drums of the Canajoharie regiment were beating
as the drummers swung past me, sleeves rolled up to
the elbows, sweat pouring down their sunburned faces ;
then came Ikrkimer, all al ting his saddk likr
a rock, the flush of anger still staining his weather-
age, his small, wrathful eyes fixed on the
north.
Behind him rode Colonels Cox and Paris, long
heavy swords drawn, heading the Canajoharie regi
ment, which pressed forward excitedly. The remain-
ing regiments of Tryon County militia followed, led by
Colonel Seeber, Colonel Bellenger, Majors Prey, Eisen-
lord, and Van Slyck. Then came the baggage-wag-
ons, some drawn by oxen, some by four horses; an<l
in the rear of these rode Colonel Visscher, leading tlu
Caughnawaga regiment, closing the dusty column
"Damn them!" growled Elerson toMnrj h\ , il
advancing without Banking-parties or scouts. I \.
Dan'l Morgan was here."
" Tis th' Gineral's jooty to luk out f'r his throops,
not Danny Morgan's or mine," replied the big rifle-
man in disgust
The column halted. I signalled my men to follow
me and hastened along the flanks under a fire of chaff :
" Look at young buckskins ' There go Morgan's mac-
aronis! God help the red-coats this dayl How's the
scalp trade, so:
268
ORISKANY
Herkimer was sitting his horse in the middle of the
road as I came up; and he scowled down at me when
I gave him the officer's salute and stood at attention
beside his stirrup.
"Veil, you can shpeak," he said, bluntly; "efery-
body shpeaks but mel"
I said that I and my riflemen were at his disposal
if he desired leaders for flanking-parties or scouts ; and
his face softened as he listened, looking down at me
in silence.
"Sir," he said, "it iss to my shame I say dot my
sodgers command me, not I my sodgers."
Then, looking back at Colonel Cox, he added, bit-
terly:
" I haff ordered flanking-parties and scouts, but my
officers, who know much more than I, haff protested
against dot useless vaste of time. I thank you, sir;
I can your offer not accept"
The drums began again; the impatient Palatine
regiment moved forward, yellinir their approval, and
we fell back to the roadside, while the boisterous troops
tramped past, cheering, singing, laughing in their ex-
citement Mechanically we fell in behind the Caugh-
nawagas, who formed the rear-guard, and followed on
through the dust; meaning to go with them only a
mile or so before we started back across country with
the news which I was now at liberty to take in person
to General Schuyler.
For I considered my mission at an end. In one
thing only had I failed: Walter Butler was still free;
but now that he commanded a company of outlaws
and savages in St. Leger's army, I, of course, had no
further hope of arresting him or of dealing with him in
any manner save on the battle-field.
So at last I felt forced to return to Varick Manor;
but the fear of the dread future was in me, and all the
269
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
hopeless misery of a hopeless passion made of me a
coward, so that I shrank from the pain I must surely
inflict and endure. Kinder for her, kinder for me, that
we should never meet again
Not that I desired to die. I was too young in life and
love t<> wish for death as a balm. Besides, I knew it
could not bring us peace. Still, it was one solution
of a problem otherwise so utterly hopeless that I, h
su k, had long since wearied of the solving and carried
my hurt buried deep, fearful lest my prying senses
should stir me to disinter the dead hope lying there.
Absence renders passion endurable. But at sight
of her I loved I knew I could not endure it; and, un-
uiin of myself, having twice nigh failed under the
overwhelming provocations of a love returned, I shrank
from the coming duel 'twixt love and duty \\ hu h must
once more be fought within my breast.
Nor could my duty, fighting blindly, expect encour-
agement from her I loved, save at the last gasp and
under the heel of love. Then, only, at the very 1
would she save me; for there was that withm her which
revolted at a final wrong, and I knew that not even our
twin passion could prevail to stamp out the last spark
of conscience and slay our souls f
Brooding, as I trudged forward through the dust, I
became aware that the drums had ceased their beatn
and that the men were marching quietly with htile
laughter or noise of song.
The heat was intense, although a black cloud had
pushed up above the west, \eiling the sun. Flies
swarmed about the column; sweat poured from men
and horses; the soldiers rolled back their sleeves and
plodded on, muskets a- trail and coats hanging o
their shoulders. Once, very far away, the looming
horizon was veined with lightning; and, after a long
time, thunder sounded.
270
ORISKAtfY
We had marched northward on a rutty road some
two miles or more from our camp at Oriska, and I
was asking Mount how near we were to the old Al-
gonquin-Iroquois trail which runs from the lakes across
the wilderness to the healing springs at Saratoga,
when the column halted and I heard an increasing
confusion of voices from the van.
"There's a ravine ahead," said Elerson. "I'm
thinking they'll have trouble with these wagons, for
there's a swamp at the bottom and only a log-road
across."
" Tis the proper shpot f'r to ambuscade us," ob-
served Murphy, craning his neck and standing on tij>-
toe to see ahead.
We walked forward and sat down on the bank close
to the brow of the hill. Directly ahead a ravine, shaped
like a half-moon, cut the road, and the noisy Caiui-
joharie regiment was marching into it The bottom
of the ravine appeared to be a swamp, thinly tim-
bered with tamarack and blue-beech saplings, where
the reeds and cattails grew thick, and little, dark pools
of water spread, all starred with water-lilies, shining
intensely white in the gloom of the coming storm.
"There do be wild ducks in thim rushes," said
Murphy, musingly. " Sure I count it sthrange, Jack
Mount, that thim burrds sit quiet-like an' a screechin'
rigiment marchin' acrost that log-road."
"You mean that somebody has been down there
before and scared the ducks away?" I asked.
"Maybe, sorr/' he replied, grimly.
Instinctively we leaned forward to scan the rising
ground on the opposite side of the ravine. Nothing
moved in the dense thickets. After a moment Mount
said quietly : " I'm a liar or there's a barked twig show-
ing raw wood alongside of that ledge."
He glanced at the pan of his rifle, then again fixed
271
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
his keen, blue eyes on the tiny Lrliinmer of white which
even I could distinguish now, though Heaven only
knows how his eyes had found it in all that tangle.
" That's raw wood," he repeated.
" A deer might bark a twig," said I
"Maybe, sorr," muttered Murphy; "but there's divfl
a deer w'ud nibble sheep-laurel ."
The men of the Canajoharie regiment were climbing
i lie hill on the other side of the ravine now. Colonel
Cox came galloping back, shouting : " Bring up those
wagons I The road is clear 1 Move your men forward
there!"
Whips cracked; the vehicles rattled off down hill,
drivers yelling, soldiers pushing the heavy wheels for-
ward over the log-road below \\lu <ed water as
the bumping wagons struck the causeway.
I remember that Colonel Cox had just drawn bridle,
half-way up the opposite incline, and was leaning for-
ward in his saddle to watch the progress of an ox-team,
when a rifle-shot rang out and he tumbled clean out of
his saddle, striking the shallow water with a spl.
i lull itself broke loose in that black ra\
volley on volley poured into the Canajoharie regime
officers fell from their Imrse s reeled and pitched
forward under the heels of their plunging teams; wag-
ons collided and broke down, choking the log -road.
Louder and louder the terrific yells of the outlaws and
savages rang out on our flanks ; I saw our soldiers in
the ravine running frantically in all directions, falling
on the log-road, floundering waist-deep in the water
and mud, slipping, stumbling, staggering ; while f,i
and faster cracked the hidden rifles, and the pitiless bul-
lets pelted them from the heights above.
Stand 1 Stand ! you fools ! " bawled Elerson. " Ta 1 ; <
to the timber! Every man to a tree! For God's sake
mber Bradd
272
ORISKANY
"Look out!" shouted Mount, dragging me with him
to a rock. "Close up, Elerson! Close up, Murphy!"
Straight into the stupefied ranks of the Caughna-
waga company came leaping the savages, shooting,
stabbing, clubbing the dazed men, dragging them
from the ranks with shrieks of triumph. I saw one
half-naked creature, awful in his paint, run up and
strike a soldier full in the face with his fist, then dash
out his brains with a death-maul and tear his scalp off.
Murphy and Mount were loading and firing steadily ;
Elerson and I kept our rifles ready for a rush. I was
perfectly stunned; the spectacle did not seem real to
me.
The Caughnawaga men, apparently roused from
their momentary stupor, fell back into small squads,
shooting in every direction; and the savages, unable
to withstand a direct fire, sheered off and came bound-
in u r past us to cover, yelping like timber- wolves.
Three darted directly at us; a young warrior, painted
in bars of bright yellow, raised his hatchet to hurl it ;
but Murphy's bullet spun him round like a top till he
crashed against a tree and fell in a heap, quivering
all over.
The two others had leaped on Mount. Swearing,
threatening, roaring with rage, the desperate giant
shook them off into our midst, and cut the throat of
one as he lay sprawling a sickening spectacle, for the
poor wretch floundered and thrashed about among the
leaves and sticks, squirting thick blood all over us.
The remaining savage, a chief, by his lock and
eagle-quill, had fastened to Elerson's legs with the
fury of a tree-cat, clawing and squalling, while Mur-
phy dealt him blow on blow with clubbed stock, and
finally was forced to shoot him so close that the rifle-
flame set his greased scalp-lock afire.
" Take to the timber, you Tryon County men ! Re-
* 273
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
member Braddock!" shouted Colonel Paris, plunging
about on his wounded horse; while from every tree
i hush rang out the reports of the rifles; and the
idy stream of bullets poured into the Caughna-
waga regiment, knocking the men down the hill-side
the struggling mass below. Some dropped dead
u h had been shot; some rolled to the log-road ;
some fell into the marsh, splashing and limping about
like crippled wild fowl.
"Advance der Palatine regiment!" thundered Her-
kimcT. "Clear avay dot oxen-tear
A drummer-boy of the Palatines beat the chari: !
can see him yet, a curly-haired youngster, knee-deep
in the mud, his white, frightened face fixed on his
commander. They shot his drum to pieces; he beat
steadily on the flapping parchment
Across the swamp the Palatines were doggedly
c limhiiiL: the Mope in the face of a terrible discharge.
i;iiiu-r led them. As they reached the crest of
the plateau, and struggled up and over, a rush of
i in green uniforms seemed to swallow the en-
Palatine regiment I saw them bayonet Major
Eisenlord and finish him with their rifle-stocks; they
stabbed Major Van ;mi hurled themselves at
the mounted Oneida. Hatchet flashing, the inter-
ig his horse straight into tlu yd ling onset
and went down, smothered under a mass of ene-
mies.
" Vorw&rts!" thundered Herkimer, standing straight
up in his stirrups; but they shot him out of his saddle
and closed with the Palatines, hilt to hilt
Major Frey and Colonel Beilenger fell under their
horses. Colonel Seeber dropped dead into the rav
Captain Graves was dragged from the ranks and l>n
ered by bayonets; but those stubborn Palatines r.ilmlv
divided into squads, and their steady fusillade stopped
274
ORISKANY
the rush of the Royal Greens and sent the flanking
savages howling to cover.
Mount, Murphy, Elerson, and I lay behind a fallen
hemlock, awaiting the flank attack which we now un-
derstood must surely come. For our regiments were
at last completely surrounded, facing outward in an
irregular circle, the front held by the Palatines, the
rear by the Caughnawagas, the west by part of the
Canajoharie regiment, and the east by a fraction of
unbrigaded militia, teamsters, batt-men, bateaux-men,
and half a dozen volunteer rangers reinforced by my
three riflemen.
The scene was real enough to me now. Jack Mount,
kneeling beside me, was attempting to clean the blood
from himself and Elerson with handfuls of dried leaves.
Murphy lay on his belly, watching the forest in front
of us, and his blue eyes seemed suffused with a light
of their own in the deepening gloom of the gather-
ing thunder-storm. My nerves were all a-quiver; the
awful screaming from the ravine had never ceased
for an instant, and in thai darkening, slimy pit I could
still see a swaying mass of men on the causeway,
locked in a death-struggle. To and fro they reeled ;
hatchet and knife and gun-stock glittered, rising and
falling in the twilight of the storm-cloud; the flames
from the rifles flashed crimson.
" Kape ye 're eyes to the front, sorr ; they do be coin-
in'!' ' cried Murphy, springing briskly to his feet.
I looked ahead into the darkening woods ; the Caugh-
nawaga men were falling back, taking station behind
trees; Mount stepped to the shelter of a big oak; Eler-
son leaped to cover under a pine; a Caughnawaga
bateaux -man darted past me, stationing himself on
my right behind the trunk of a dapple beech. Sud-
denly an Indian showed himself close in front; the
Caughnawaga man fired and missed; and, quicker
275
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
than I can write it, the savage was on him before
he could reload and had brained him with a single
castete-stroke. I fired, but the Mohawk was too qi
for me, and a moment later he bounded back into the
brush while the forest rang with his triumphant scalp-
yell.
"That's what they're doing in front!" shouted Eler-
son. When a soldier fires they're on him before he
can reload!"
" Two men to a tree!" roared Jack Mount. " Double
up there, you Caughnawaga men!"
Elerson glided cautiously to the oak which sheltered
Mount ; Murphy crept forward to my tree.
" Bedad !" he muttered, " let the ondacent dm Is dhraw
ye're fire an' welcome. I've a pill to purge 'em now.
Lukatthat,sorr! Shteady! Shteady an 'cool does it !'
A savage, with his face painted half white and half
red, stepped out from the thicket and dropped just as
I fired. The next instant he came leaping straight
our tree, castete poised.
Mui ; (1. The effect of the shot was amazing ;
the savage stopped short in mid-career as though he
had con ion with a stone wall ; then Elerson
fired, knock fiat, head doubled under his naked
shoulders, feet trailing across a rotting log.
"Save ye're powther, Dave!" sang out Murphy.
"Sure he was clean kilt as he shtood there. Lave a
dead man take his own time to fall!"
I had reloaded, and Murphy was coollv priming,
when on our right the rifles began speaking faster
and faster, and I heard the sound of men running hard
over the dry leaves, and the- thudding gallop of horses.
"A charge!" said Murphy. "There do be horses
comin', too. Have they dhragoons? I dunnoa. Ha!
There they go! Tis M outlaws or I'm a
Dootchman!"
276
ORISKANY
A shrill cock-crow rang out in the forest
" Tis the chanticleer scalp-yell of that damned loon,
Francy McCrawI" he cried, fiercely. "Give it to 'em,
b'ys! Shoot hell into the dommed Tories 1"
The Caughnawaga rifles rang out from every tree;
a white man came running through the wood, and I
instinctively held my fire.
"Shoot the dhirrty son of a shlut!" yelled Murphy;
and Elerson shot him and knocked him down, but the
man staggered to his feet again, clutching at his wound-
ed throat, and reeled towards us. He fell again, got on
his knees, crawled across the dead leaves until he was
scarce fifteen yards away, then fell over and lay there,
coughing.
" A dead wan," said Murphy, calmly; "lave him. "
McCraw's onset passed along our extreme left; the
volleys grew furious; the ghastly cock-crow rang out
shrill and piercing, and we fired at long range where
the horses were passing through the rifle-smoke.
Then, in the roar of the fusillade, a bright flash
lighted up the forest; a thundering crash followed,
and the storm burst, dclu^iiiLC the woods with rain.
Trees rocked and groaned, dashing their tops together ;
the wind rose to a hurricane; the rain poured down,
beating the leaves from the bees, driving friend and
foe to shelter: The reports of the rifles ceased; the
war-yelp died away. Peal on peal of thunder shook
the earth ; the roar of the tempest rose to a steady shriek
through which the terrific smashing of falling trees
echoed above the clash of branches.
Soaked, stunned, blinded by the awful glare of the
lightning, I crouched under the great oak, which rocked
and groaned, convulsed to its bedded roots, so that the
ground heaved under me as I lay.
I could not see ten feet ahead of me, so thick was the
gloom with rain and flying leaves and twigs. The
277
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
thunder culminated in a series of fearful crashes ; bolt
after bolt fell, illuminating the flying chaos of the
pest; i hen came a stunning silence, slowly filial
with the steady roar of the rain
A gray pallor grew in the wtxxis. I looked down
into the ravine and saw a muddy lake there full of
dead men and horses.
The wounded Tory near us was still choking and
coughing, dying hard out there in the rain. Mount
and Elerson crept over to where we lay, and, after a
moment's conference, Murphy led us in a loin
swinging gradually northward until we stumbled into
the drenched Palatine regiment, \vlneh was still holding
its ground. There was no firing on either side; the
guns were too \\
On a wooded knoll to the left a group of dri]
men had gathered. Somebody said that the old Gen-
eral lay there, smoking and directing the defence, his
Kit leg shattered by a ball. I saw the blue smoke of
his pipe curling up under the tree, but I did not see him
The wind had died out; the tin; to the
thward, muttering among the hills; rain fell less
heavily; and I saw wounded men tear \ts from
r soaking shirts to hind their hurts. Details from
the Canajohane regiment passed us searching the u fi-
nish f'r their dead.
I also noticed with a shudder that Elerson and
Murphy carried two fresh scalps apiece, tied to the belts
of their hunting -shirts; but I said nothing, ha\
been warned by Jack Mount that they considered it
their prerogative to take the scalps of those who had
failed to take theirs.
How they could do it I cannot understand, for I had
once seen the body of a scalped man, with the skin,
released from the muscles of the forehead, hanging all
loose and wrinkled over the face.
278
ORISKANY
With the ceasing of the rain came the renewed crack
of the rifles and the whiz of bullets. We took post on
the extreme left, firing deliberately at McCraw's rene-
gades ; and I do not know whether I hit any or not,
but five men did I see fall under the murderous aim of
Murphy ; and I know that Elerson shot two savages,
for he went down into the ravine after them and re-
turned with the wet, red trophies.
The sun was now shining again with a heat so fierce
and intense that the earth smoked vapor all around
us. It was at this time that I, personally, experienced
the only close fighting of the day, which brought
a sudden end to this most amazing and bloody skir-
mish.
I had been lying full length behind a bush in the lines
of the Palatine regiment, eating a crust of bread ; for
that strange battle-hunger had been gnawing at my
vitals for an hour. Some of 'the men were eating,
some firing; the steaming heat almost suffocated me
as I lay there, yet I munched on, ravenous as a De-
cember wolf.
I heard somebody shout: "Here they cornel" and,
filling my mouth with bread, I rose to my knees to see.
A body of troops in green uniforms came marching
steadily towards us, led by a red-coated officer on horse-
back; and all around me the Palatines were springing
to their feet, uttering cries of rage, cursing the oncom-
ing troops, and calling out to them by name.
For the detachment of Royal Greens which now ad-
vanced to the assault was, it appeared, composed of old
acquaintances and neighbors of the Palatines, who had
fled to join the Tories and Indians and now returned
to devastate their own county.
Lashed to ungovernable fury by the sight of these
hated renegades, the entire regiment leaped forward
with a roar and rushed on the advancing detachment,
279
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
sutbbine, shooting, clubbing, throttling Mutual 1
tied made the contest tern -id words; no quar-
was given on either side. I saw men stran
each other with naked hands ; kiek e;uh other to death,
like dogs, tooth and nail, rolling over the \s et
The tide had not yet struck us; we fired at their
mounted officer, whom Elerson declared he recognized
as Major Watts, brother-in-law to Sir John Johnson;
and presently,as usual, Murphy hit him. so that the
young fellow dropped forward on his saddle and his
se ran away, flinging him against a tree with a
crash, doubtless breaking every bone in his body.
Then, above the tumult, out of the north came boom-
mi: three cannon-shots, the signal from the fort that
Herkimer had desired to wait
A detachment from the Canajoharie regiment surged
out of the woods with a ringing cheer, poin th-
ward, where, across a cfaaring, a body \\s were
rapidly advancing from the direction of the fort.
ie sortie! The sortie!" shouted the soldiers,
frantic with joy. Murphy and I ran towards thi
Elerson yelled: "Be careful! Look at their uniforms!
Don't go too close to them I"
"They're coining from the north!" bawled Mount
" They're our own people, Dave! Come on
Captain Jacob Gardinu . v. ith a dozen Caughnawaga
men, had already reached the advancing troops, when
Murphy seized my arm and halted me, crying out,
" Those men are wearing their coats turned inside out!
They're Johnson's Greens!"
At the same instant I recognized Colonel John Butler
as the officer leading them ; and he knew me and, with-
out a word, fired his pistol at me. We were so near
them now that a Tory caught hold of Murphy and tried
to stab him, but the big Irishman kicked him head-
2*0
ORISKANY
loug and rushed into the mob, swinging his long
hatchet, followed by Gardinier and his Caughnawaga
men, whom the treachery had transformed into demons.
In an instant all around me men were swaying,
striking, shooting, panting, locked in a deadly em-
brace. A sweating, red-faced soldier closed with me ;
chin to chin, breast to breast we wrestled ; and I shall
never forget the stifling struggle every detail re-
mains, his sunburned face, wet with sweat and powder-
smeared ; his irregular teeth showing when I got him
by the throat, and the awful change that came over
his visage when Jack Mount shoved the muzzle of his
rifle against the struggling fellow and shot him through
the stomach.
Freed from his death-grip, I stood breathing convul-
sively, hands clinched, one foot on my fallen rifle. An
Indian ran past me, chased by Elerson and Murphy,
but the savage dodged into the underbrush, shrieking,
"Oonah! Oonah! Oonah 1" and Elerson came back,
waving his deer-hide cap.
Everywhere Tories, Royal Greens, and Indians were
running into the woods; the wailing cry, "Oonah!
Oonah!" rose on all sides now. Gardinier 's Caughna-
waga men were shooting rapidly ; the Palatines, mas-
ter of their reeking brush-field, poured a heavy fire into
the detachment of retreating Greens, who finally broke
and ran, dropping sack and rifle in their flight, and
leaving thirty of their dead under the feet of the Pala-
tines.
The soldiers of the Canajoharie regiment came up,
swarming over a wooded knoll on the right, only to
halt and stand, silently leaning on their rifles.
For the battle of Oriskany was over.
There was no cheering from the men of Tryon Coun-
ty. Their victory had been too dearly bought; their
losses too terrible; their triumph sterile, for they could
281
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
not now advance the crippled fragments of their regfc
ments and raise the siege in the face of St Leger's
and Walter Butler's Rangers.
Their combat with Johnson's Greens and Brant 5
Mohawks had been fought; and, though masters of the
field, they could do no more than hold their ground.
Perhaps the bitter knowledge that they must leave
Stanwix to its fate, and that, too, through then >wn
disobedience, made the better soldiers <f them in tune.
Hut it was a hard and dreadful lesson; and I saw n
mg, faces hidden in their powder-blackened hands,
as the dying General was borne through the ranks, ly-
ing gray and motionless on his hemlock In
And this is all that I myself witnessed of tha
ful ambuscade and murderous combat, fought some
two miles north of the dirty camp, and now known as
the Battle of Oriskany.
That night we buried our dead; one hundred on the
1 where they had fallen, two hundred and fifty in
the burial trenches at Oriskany- live wagon-
loads in all. Scarcely an officer of rank remained to
lead the funeral march when the muffled drums of the
Palatines rolled at midnight, and the smoky torches
moved, and the dead-wagons rumbled on through the
suffocating darkness of a starless night We had 1
mded ; we took no prisoners ; Oriskany mfeant death.
We counted only thirty men disabled and some score
Tnissing.
"God grant the missing be safely dead/ 1 prayed our
camp chaplain at the burial trench. We knew what
that meant; worse than dead were the wretched n
who had fallen alive im the hands of old John ButK-r
and his son, Walter, and that vicious drunkard, Barry
St Leger, who had offered, over his own signature,
two hundred and forty dollars a dozen for prime Tryon
County scalps.
282
ORISKANY
I slept little that night, partly from the excitement
of my first serious combat, partly because of the terrible
heat. Our outposts, now painfully overzealous and
alert, fired off their muskets at every fancied sound or
movement, and these continual alarms kept me awake,
though Mount and Murphy slept peacefully, and Eler-
son yawned on guard.
Towards sunrise rain fell heavily, but brought no
relief from the heat; the sun, a cherry-red ball, hung
a hand's-breadth over the forests when the curtain of
rain faded away. The riflemen, curled up in the hay
on the barn floor, snored on, unconscious; the batt-
horses crunched and munched in the manger; flies
whirled and swarmed over a wheelbarrow piled full of
dead soldier's shoes, which must to-day be distributed
among the living.
All the loathsome and filthy side of war seemed con-
centrated around the barn -yard, where sleepy, un-
shaven, half-dressed soldiers were burning the under-
clothes of a man who had died of the black measles;
while a great, brawny fellow, naked to the waist and
smeared from hair to ankles with blood, butchered
sheep, so that the army might eat that day.
The thick stench of the burning clothing, the odor
of blood, the piteous bleating of the doomed creatures
sickened me ; and I made my way out of the barn and
down to the river, where I stripped and waded out to
wash me and my clothes.
A Caughnawaga soldier gave me a bit of soap ; and
I spent the morning there. By noon the fierce heat of
the sun had dried my clothes; by two o'clock our small
scout of four left the Stanwix and Johnstown road and
struck out through the unbroken wilderness for Ger-
man Flatts.
XIX
THE HOME TRAIL
FOR eleven days we lay at German Flatts, Colo-
nel Yisscher begging us to aid in the del
that threatened village until the women and children
Id be conveyed to Johnstown. But Sir John John-
son remained before Stanwix, and McCraw's riders
gave the village wide berth, and on the i8th of August
we set out for Varicks'.
Warned by our extreme outposts, we bore to ilu*
south, forced miles out of our course to avoid the
Oneida country, where a terrific little war was raging.
For the Senecas, Cayugas, a few Mohawks, and Mc-
Craw's renegade Tories, furious at the neutral and
pac of the Oneidas towards our people, had
suddenly fallen upon them, tooth and nail, vowing that
the Oneida nation should perish from the er^rth for thru
treason to the Long House.
We skirted the doomed region cautiously, touching
here and there the fringe of massacre and fire, ofim
scenting smoke, sometimes hearing a di hot
Once we encountered an Oneida runner, painted blue
and white, and naked save for the loin-cloth, \vh. i..ld
us of the civil war that was already rending the Long
House; and I then understood more fully what Magda-
len Brant had done for our cause, and how far-reaching
had been the effects of her appearance at the False-
Faces' council-!
The Oneida appeared to be disheartened He sul
THE HOME TRAIL
icnly admitted to us that the Cayugas had scattered
his people and laid their village in ashes; he cursed
McCraw fiercely and promised a dreadful retaliation
on any renegade captured. He also described the fate
of the Oriskany prisoners and some bateaux-men taken
by Walter Butler's Rangers near Wood Creek; and I
could scarcely endure to listen, so horrid were the de-
tails of our soldiers' common fate, where Mohawk and
Tor3 r , stripped and painted alike, conspired to invent
atrocities undreamed of for their wretched victims.
It was then that I heard for the second time the term
"Blue -eyed Indian/' meaning white men stained,
painted, and disguised as savages. More terrifying
than the savages themselves, it appeared, were the
blue-eyed Indians to the miserable settlers of Tryon.
For hellish ingenuity and devilish cruelty these mock
savages, the Oneida assured us, had nothing to learn
from their red comrades; and I shall never be able to
efface from my mind the memory of what we saw, that
very day, in a lonely farm-house on the flats of the
Mohawk; nor was it necessary that McCraw should
have left his mark on the shattered door a cock crow-
ing, drawn in outline by a man's forefinger steeped in
blood to enlighten those who might not recognize the
ghastly work as his.
We stayed there for three hours to bury the dead,
an old man and woman, a young mother, and five
children, the youngest an infant not a year old. All
had been scalped; even the watch-dog lay dead near
the bloody cradle. We dug the shallow graves with
difficulty, having nothing to work with save our hunt-
ing-knives and some broken dishes which we found
in the house; and it was close to noon before we left
the lonely flat and pushed forward through miles of
stunted willow growth towards the river road which
led to Johnstown.
285
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
I shall never forget Mount's set face nor Murphy's
terrible, vacant stare as we plodded on in absolute
silmce. Elerson led us on a steady trot hour after
hour, till, late in the afternoon, we crossed the n\er
road and wheeled into it exhausted.
The west was all aglow ; cleared land and fences lay
along the roadside; here and there houses loomed up
in the red, evening light, but their inhabitants were
gone, and not a sign of life remained about them i
the circling swallows whirling in and out of the
blackened chimneys.
So still, so sad this solitude that the sudden chirjv-
of a robin in the evening shadows startled us.
The sun sank behind the forest, tui er to
a bloody red; a fox yapped and yapped from a d
hill-side; the moon's yellow light flashed out through
the trees; and, with the coming of the moon, far in the
wilderness the owls began and the cries of the night*
hawks died away in the si.
The first human being that we encountered was a
miller riding an ancient horse towards a lane u
bordered a noisy brook.
When he discovered us he whipped out a pistol and
bade us stand where we were; and it took all my jx?r-
suasion to convince him that we were not renegades
a McCraw's band.
We asked for news, but he had none, save that a
heavy force of our soldiers was lying by the road
some two miles below on their way to relieve J
Stanwix. The General, he believed, was named Ar-
nold, and the troops were Massachusetts men; ili.it
was all he knew
He seemed stupid or perhaps stunned, having lost
three sons in a battle somewhere near Benn
and had that morning received word of his loss, i
the battle had gone he did not know; he was on his
286
THE HOME TRAIL
way up the creek to lock his mill before joining the
militia at Johnstown. He was not too old to carry
the musket he had carried at Braddock's battle. Be-
sides, his boys were dead, and there was no one in his
family except himself to help our Congress fight the
red-coats.
We watched him ride off into the darkness, gray
head erect, pistol shining in his hand; then moved on,
searching the distance for the outpost we knew must
presently hail us. And, sure enough, from the shadow
of a clump of trees came the smart challenge: "Halt!
Who goes there?"
" Officer from Herkimer and scout of three with news
for General Schuyler!" I answered.
"Halt, officer with scout! Sergeant of the guard!
Post number three!"
Dark figures swarmed in the road ahead; a squad
of men came up on the double.
"Advance officer!" rang out the summons; a torch
blazed, throwing a red glare around us; a red-faced
old officer in brown and scarlet walked up and took
the packet of papers which I extended.
"Are you Captain Ormond?" he asked, curiously,
glancing at the endorsement on my papers.
I replied that I was, and named Murphy, Elerson,
and Mount as my scout
When the soldiers standing about heard the notorious
names of men already famed in ballad and story, they
craned their necks to see, as my tired riflemen filed into
the lines; and the staff-officer made himself exceed-
ingly agreeable and civil, conducting us to a shelter
made of balsam branches, before which a smudge was
burning.
"General Arnold has despatches for you, Captain
Ormond," he said; "I am Drummond, Brigade Major;
we expected you at Varick Manor on the ninth
287
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
you wrote to your cousin, Miss Yurick, from Oriskanv,
you know."
A soldier came up with two headquarters lair
whu h he hung on the cross-bar of the open-faced hut ;
t her soldier brought bread and cheese, a great
le pie, a jug of spring water, and a bottle of brandy,
li the compliments of Brigadier-General Arnold,
and apolpgies that neither cloth, glasses, nor cutlery
included in the camp baggage.
We're light infantry with a vengeance, Caj
Onnond," said Major Drumraond, laughing; "we left
at twenty-four Hours' notice! Gad, sir! the day be-
fore we started the General haidn't a squad under his
orders; but when Schuyler called for \<lunteers, and
brigadiers began to raise hell at the idea of weak-
ening the army to help Stamv old came out of
his - on the jump! 'Who 11 follow me to
Stanwix?' he bawls; and, by gad, sir, the Massa-
chusetts men fell over each other trying to sign the
IK laughed again, waving my papers in the air and
slapping them down oq a knaps.
" You will doubtless wish to hand these to the Gen-
eral yourself," he said, pleasantly. "Pray, sir, do
not think of standing on ceremony; I have dined.
Captain."
Mount, who had been furtively licking his lips and
casting oblique glances at the bread and cheese, fell
to at a nod from me. Murphy and Elerson joined
him, bolting huge mouthfuls. I ate sparingly, having
little appetite left after the -iuht> I had seen in that
lonely house on the Mohawk flats.
The gnats ^warmed, but the smoke of the green-
moss smudge kept them from us in a measure. I
asked Major Drumniond how soon it might be con-
venient for General Arnold to receive me, and he sent
288
THE HOME TRAIL
a young ensign to headquarters, who presently returned
saying that General Arnold was making the rounds
and would waive ceremony and stop at our post on his
return.
"There's a soldier, sir!" said Major Drummond,
emphasizing his words with a smart blow of his riding-
cane on his polished quarter-boots. " He's had us on
a dog-trot since we started; up hill, dowfi dple, across
th'e cursed Sacandaga swamps, through fords chin-
hii^hl By gad, sirl allow me to tell you that nothing
stopped us! We went through windfalls like par-
tridges ; we crossed the hills like a herd o' deer in
flight! We ran as though the devil were snapping at
our shanks I I'm half dead, thank you and my shins !
you should see where that razor-boned nag of mine
shaved bark enough off the trees with me to start every
tannery between the Fish-House and Half-moon!"
The ruddy-faced Major roared at the recital of his
own misfortunes. Mount and Murphy looked up with
sympathetic grins; Elerson had fallen asleep against
the side of the shack, a bit of pie, half gnawed, clutched
in his brier-torn fist.
I had a pipe, but no tobacco ; the Major filled my pipe,
purring contentedly; a soldier, at a sign from him,
took Mount and Murphy to the nearest fire, where there
was a gill of grog and plenty of tobacco. I roused
Elerson, who gaped, bolted his pie with a single mighty
effort, and stumbled off after his comrades. Major
Drummond squatted down cross-legged before the
smudge, lighting his corn-cob pipe from a bit of glow-
ing moss, and leaned back contentedly, crossing his
arms behind his head.
"I'm tired, too," he said; "we marc^again at mid-
night. If it's no secret, I should like to know what's
going on ahead there."
"It's no secret," I said, soberly; "the Senecas and
' 28g
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Ctyugas are harming the Oneidas; the renegades are
riding the forest, murdering women and infants. St
Leger is firing bombs at Stanwix, and Yisscher is
holding German Flatts with some Caughnawag*
militia."
"And Herkimer?" asked Drummond, gravely.
"Dead," I replied, in a low voice.
"Good gad, sir! I had not heard that!" he ex-
ned.
"It is true, Major. The old man died while I was
at German Flatts. They say the amputation of his
leg was a wretched piece of work. ...lie died bolt up-
right in his bed, smoking his pipe, and reading aloud
the thirty-eighth Psalm. . . . His men are wild with
grief, they say. . . . They called him a coward the morn-
ing of Oriskany."
After a silence the Major's emotion dimmed his
twinkling eyes; he dragged a red bandanna hand
lu i m his coat-tails and blew his nose violently.
"All flesh is grass eh, Captain? And some of it
devilish poor grass at that, eh? Well, well; we can't
make an array in a day. But, by gad, sir, we've done
uncommonly well. You've heard of but no, you
haven't, either. Here's news for you, friend, since
you've been in the woods. On the hile you ft 1-
lows were shooting down some three hundred and fifty
of the Mohawks, Royal Greens, and renegades, that
old wolverine, Marinus Willctt, slipped out of the
:, fell on Sir John's camp, and took twmtv-one
wagon-loads of provisions, blankets, ammunition, and
tools; also five British standards and every bit of
personal baggage belonging to Sir John Johnson, in-
cluding his private papers, maps, memoranda, and
all orders and instructions for the completed plans of
campaign. . . . Wait, if you please, sir. That is not
all.
290
THE HOME TRAIL
"On the sixteenth, old John Stark fell upon Baum's
and Brey man's Hessians at Bennington, killed and
wounded over two hundred, captured seven hundred;
took a thousand stand of arms, a thousand fine dra-
goon sabres, and four excellent field-cannon with lim-
bers, harness, and caissons. . . . And lost fourteen
killed I"
Speechless at the good news, I could only lean across
the smudge and shake hands with him while he
chuckled and slapped his knee, growing ruddier in
the face every moment.
"Where are the red-coats now?" he cried. "Look
at 'em! Burgo/ne, scared witless, badgered, dogged
from pillar to post, his army on the defensive from
Still water down to Half-moon; St. Leger destitute of
his camp baggage, caught in his own wolf-pit, flinging
a dozen harmless bombs at Stanwix, and frightened
half to death at every rumor from Albany; McDonald
chased out of the county; Mann captured, and Sir
Henry Clinton dawdling in New York and bothering
his head over Washington while Burgoyne, in a devil
of a plight, sits yonder yelling for help I
" Where's the great invasion, Ormond? Where's the
grand advance on the centre? Where's the gigantic
triple blow at the heart of this scurvy rebellion? I
don't know; do you?"
I shook my head, smilingly; he beamed upon me;
we had a swallow of brandy together, and I lay back,
deathly tired, to wait for Arnold and my despatches.
"That's right," commented the genial Major, "go
to sleep while you can; the General won't take it amiss
eh? What? Oh, don't mind me, my son. Old cod-
gers like me can get along without such luxuries as
sleep. It's the young lads who require sleep. Eh?
Yes, sir; I'm serious. Wait till you see sixty year!
Then you'll understand. ... So I'll just sit here, . . .
2QI
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
and smoke, . . . and talk away in a buzz-song, . . . and
that will fix "
I looked up with a start ; the Major had disappeared.
In my eyes a lantern was .shining steadily. Tlu-n a
shadow moved, and I turned and stumbled to my feet,
as a cloaked figure stepped into the shelter and stood
before me, peering into my eyes.
"I'm Arnold; how d'ye do," came a quick,
voice from the depths of the military cloak. "I've a
moment to stay here; we march in ten minutes. Is
cimer dead?"
I described his death in a few words.
" Bad, bad as hell ! " he muttered, fingering his sword-
hilt and staring off into the darkness " What's tin
situation above us? Gansevoort's holding out, isn't
I sent him a note to-night Of course he's hold-
I made a short report of the situation as I knew it ;
the General looked straight into my eyes as though
he were tening.
s, yes," he said, impatiently. "I know how
to deal with St Leger and Sir John I wrote Ganse-
voort that I understood how to deal with them. He
has only to sit tight ; I 11 manage the rest"
His dark, lean, eager visage caught the la:
light as he turned to scan the moonlit Ten
minutes," he muttered; "we should strike German
Platts by sundown to-morrow if our supplies come
up." And, aloud, with an abrupt and vigorous gest-
ure, "McCraw's band are scalping the settlers, they
say?"
I told him what I had seen. He nodded, then his
virile face changed and he gave me a sulky 1<>
"Captain Ormond/ Mk say that I brood
over the wrongs done me by Congress. It's a IK
292
THE HOME TRAIL
don't care a damn about Congress but let it pass.
What I wish to say is this : On the second of August
the best general in these United States except George
Washington was deprived of his command and su-
perseded by a a thing named Gates. ... I speak
of General Philip Schuyler, my friend, and now my
fellow-victim."
Shocked and angry at the news of such injustice
to the man whose splendid energy had already para-
lyzed the British invasion of New York, I stiffened
up, rigid and speechless.
"Hoi" cried Arnold, with a disagreeable laugh.
"It mads you, does it? Well, sir, think of me who
have lived to see five men promoted over my head and
I left in the anterooms of Congress to eat my heart
out! But let that pass, too. By the eternal God, I'll
show them what stuff is in me! Let it pass, Ormond,
let it pass."
He began to pace the ground, gnawing his thick
lower lip, and if ever the infernal fire darted from hu-
man eyes, I saw its baleful flicker then.
With a heave of his chest and a scowl, he controlled
his voice, stopping in his nervous walk to face me again.
"Ormond, you've gone up higher the commission
is here." He pulled a packet of papers from his breast-
pocket and thrust them at me. " Schuyler did it. He
thinks well of you, sir. On the first of August he
learned that he was to be superseded. He told Clinton
that you deserved a commission for what you did at
that Iroquois council-fire. Here it is; you're to raise
a regiment of rangers for local defence of the Mohawk
district. ... I congratulate you, Colonel Ormond."
He offered his bony, nervous hand; I clasped it,
dazed and speechless.
"Remember me/' he said, eagerly. "Let me count
on your voice at the next council of war. You will
293
THE MA1D-AT-ARMS
not regret it, Colonel. Even if you go higher even
if you rise over my luckless head, you will not n
the friendship of Benedict Arnold. For, by Heaven,
sir, I have it in me to lead men; and they shall not keep
me down, and they shall not fetter me no, not c\vn
this beribboned lap-dog Gates! . . . Stand my friend,
Ormond. I need every friend I have. And I promise
you the world shall hear of me one day!"
I shall never forget his worn and shadowy face, the
long nose, the strong, selfish chin, the devouring Same
burning his soul out through his eyes.
"Luck be with you!" he said, abruptly, extending
his hand. Once more that bony, fervid clasp, and he
was gone.
A moment later the ground vibrated ; a dark, massed
* "lumn of troops appeared in the moonlight, inarching
swiftly without drum-tap or spoken command ; the dim
us of mounted officers rode past like shadows against
tlu stars; vague shapes of wagons creaked after, roll-
ing on muffled wheels; more troops followed quickly;
then the shadowy pageant ended ; and there was noth-
ing before me but the moon in the sky above a world
of ghostly wilderness.
One camp lantern had been left for my use; by its
flickering light I untied the documents left me by Ar-
nold; and, sorting the papers, chose first my orders,
reading the formal notice of my tran rn Mor-
gan's Rifles to the militia; then the order detailing
me to the Mohawk district, with headquarters at Var-
Manor ; and, finally, my commission on parchment,
signed by Governor Clinton and by Philip Schuyler, Ma-
jor-General Commanding the Department of the North.
It was, perhaps, the last official act as chief of de-
partment of this generous man.
The next letter was in his own handwriting. I broke
the heavy seal and read :
294
THE HOME TRAIL
" ALBANY,
" August 10, 1777.
" Colonel George Ormond :
" MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND, As you have perhaps heard
rumors that General Gates has superseded me in command of the
army now operating against General Burgoyne, I desire to con-
firm these rumors for your benefit.
" My orders I now take from General Gates, without the slight-
est rancor, I assure you, or the least unworthy sentiment of envy
or chagrin. Congress, in its wisdom, has ordered it ; and I count
him unspeakably base who shall serve his country the less ar-
dently because of a petty and personal disappointment in ambi-
tions unfulfilled.
" I remain loyal in heart and deed to my country and to Gen-
eral Gates, who may command my poor talents in any manner
he sees fitting.
" I say this to you because I am an older man, and I know
something of younger men, and I have liked you from the first.
I say it particularly because, now that you also owe duty and
instant obedience to General Gates, I do not wish your obedience
retarded, or your sense of duty confused by any mistaken ideas
of friendship to me or loyalty to my person.
" In these times the individual is nothing, the cause everything.
Cliques, cabals, political conspiracies are foolish, dangerous nay,
wickedly criminal. For, sir, as long as the world endures, a
house divided against itself must fall.
" Which leads me with greatest pleasure to mention your wise
and successful diplomacy in the matter of the Long House. That
house you have most cleverly divided against itself ; and it must
fall it is tottering now, shaken to its foundations of centuries.
Also, I have the pleasure to refer to your capture of the man
Beacraft and his papers, disclosing a diabolical plan of murder.
The man has been condemned by a court on the evidence as it
stood, and he is now awaiting execution.
" I have before me Colonel Visscher's partial report of the bat-
tle of Oriskany. Your name is not mentioned in this report, but,
knowing you as I believe I do, I am satisfied that you did your
full duty in that terrible affair; although, in your report to me
by Oneida runner, you record the action as though you yourself
were a mere spectator.
" I note with pleasure your mention of the gallantry of your
riflemen, Mount, Murphy, and Elerson, and have reported it to
their company captain, Mr. Long, who will, in turn, bring it to
the attention of Colonel Morgan.
295
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
" I also note that you have not availed yourself of the war-sen
vices of the Oneidas, for which I beg to u personally.
I recall with genuine pleasure my visit to your uru k . Sir Lu-
pus Varick, where I had the fortune to make your acquaintance
and, I trust, your friendship.
" Mrs. Schuyler joins me in kindest remembrance to you, and
to Sir Lupus, whose courtesy and hospitality I have to-day had
the honor to acknowledge by letter. Through your good office
we take advantage of this opportunity to send our love to Miss
Dorothy, who has won our hearts.
" 1 am. sir, your most obedient,
" PHIUP SCHUYLER,
" Major-General
P.S. I had almost forgotten to congratulate you on your
merited advancement in military rank, for which you may thank
our wise and good Governor Clinton.
" I shall not pretend to offer yon unasked advice upon this
happy occasion, though it is an old nan's temptation to do so,
perhaps even his prerogative, However, there are younger colo-
nels than you, sir, in our set rice ay, and brigadiers, too. So
be humble, and lay not this honor with too much unction to your
heart. Your friend,
"PH. SCHUYLER."
I sat for a while staring at this good man's letter,
then opened the next missive.
" HEADQUARTERS. DEPARTMENT OP THE NORTH,
" STILLWATER,
"August 12, 1777-
" Colonel Gflorjr Ormond. on Scout:
" SIR. By order of Major-General Gates, commanding this
department, you will, upon reception of this order, instantly re-
pair to Varick Manor and report your arrival by express or a na*
runner to be trusted, preferably an Oneida. At nine o'clock,
the day following your arrival at Varicks', you will leave on
your journey to Still water, where you will report to General
Gates for further orders.
Vour small experience in military matters of organize
renders it most necessary that you should be aided in the forma-
tion of your regiment of -rangers by a detail from Colonel Mor-
gan's Rifles, as well as by the advice of General Gates.
" You will, therefore, retain the riflemen composing your scout,
296
THE HOME TRAIL
btrt attempt nothing towards enlisting your companies until you
receive your instructions personally and in full from head-
quarters.
" I am, sir,
" Your very obedient servant,
" WILKINSON, Adjutant-General.
" For Major-General Gates, commanding."
"Why, in Heaven's name, should I lose time by
journeying to headquarters?" I said, aloud, looking
up from my letter. Ahl There was the difference
between Schuyler, who picked his man, told him what
he desired, and left him to fulfil it, and Gates, who
chose a man, flung his inexperience into his face, and
bade him twirl his thumbs and sit idle until head-
quarters could teach him how to do what he had
been chosen to do, presumably upon his ability to
doit!
A helpless sensation of paralysis came over me a
restless, confused impression of my possible untrust-
worthiness, and of unfriendliness to me in high quar-
ters, even of a thinly veiled hostility to me.
What a letter! That was not the way to get work
out of a subordinate this patronizing of possible
energy and enthusiasm, this cold dampening of ardor,
as though ardor in itself were a reproach and zeal
required reproof.
Wondering why they had chosen me if they thought
me a blundering and, perhaps, mischievous zealot, I
picked up a parcel, undirected, and broke the string.
Out of it fell two letters. The writing was my cousin
Dorothy's; and, trembling all over in spite of myself,
I broke the seal of the first. It was undated :
" DEAREST, Your letter from Oriskany is before me. I am
here in your room, the door locked, alone with your letter, over-
whelmed with love and tenderness and fear for you.
" They tell me that you have been made colonel of a regiment
297
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
and the honor thrills yet saddens me all those colonels killed a %
Oriskany I Is it a post of special danger, dear?
" Oh, my brave, splendid lover I with your quiet, steady eye*
and your bright hair you angel on earth who found me a child
and left me an adoring woman can it be that in this world i
is such a thing as death for you? And could the world last with-
out you?
" Ah me I dreary me I the love that is in me I Who could be-
lieve it? Who could doubt that it is divine and not inspired by
hell as I once feared; it is so beautiful, so hopelessly beaut
like that faint thrill of splendor that passes shadowing a dream
where, for an instant, we think to see a tiny corner of heaven
sparkling out through a million fathoms of terrific night .
Did you ever dream that?
. ...
We have been gay here. Young Mr. Van Rensselaer came
from Albany to heal the breach with father. We danced and
had games. He is a good young man, this patroon and pat
Listen, dear : he permitted all his tenants to join the army of Gates,
cancelled their rent rolls during their service, and promised to
provide for their families. It will take a fortune, but his deeds
are better than his words.
" Only one thing, dear, that troubled me. I tell it to you, as
I tell you everything, knowing you to be kind and pitiful. I
this: he asked father's permission to address me, not knowing
I was affianced. How sad is hopeless love I
" There was a battle at Bennington, where General Stark's men
whipped the Brunswick troops and took equipments for a thou-
sand cavalry, so that now you should see our Legion of Horse,
so gay in their buff -and -blue and their new helmets and great,
spuircd jack-boots and bright sabres I
" Ruyven was stark mad to join them ; and what do you tl
Lupus consented, and General Schuylcr lent his kind offices,
and to-day, if you please, my brother is strutting about the yard
in the uniform of a Cornet of Legion cavalry I
"To-night the squadron leaves to chase some of McDonald's
renegades out of Broadalbin. You remember Captain McDonald,
the Glencoe brawler? it's the same one, and he's done murder,
they say, on the folk of Tribes Hill. I am thankful that Ruyven
is in Sir George Covert's squadron.
d. dear, what do you think? Walter Butler was taken,
three days since, by some of Sir George Covert's riders, u
iting his mother and sister at a farm-house near Johnstown.
298
THE HOME TRAIL
He was taken within our lines, it seems, and in civilian's clothes ;
and the next day he was tried by a drum-court at Albany and
condemned to death as a spy. Is it not awful? He has not
yet been sentenced. It touches us, too, that an Ormond-Butler
should die on the gallows. What horrors men commit 1 What
horrors! God pity his mother!
" I am writing at a breathless pace, quill flying, sand scattered
by the handful for my feverish gossip seems to help me to en-
dure.
" Time, space, distance vanish while I write ; and I am with you
. . . until my letter ends.
" Then, quick ! my budget of gossip! I said that we had been
gay, and that is true, for what with the Legion camping in our
quarters and General Arnold's men here for two days, and Schuy-
ler's and Gates's officers coming and going and always remaining
to dine, at least, we have danced and picnicked and played music
and been frightened when McDonald's men came too near. And
oh, the terrible pall that fell on our company when news came of
poor Janet McCrea's murder by Indians you did not know her,
but I did, and loved her dearly in school the dear little tiling!
But Burgoyne's Indians murdered her, and a fiend called The
Wyandot Panther scalped her, they say all that beautiful, silky,
long hair ) But Burgoyne did not hang him. Heaven only knows
why, for they said Burgoyne was a gentleman and an honorable
soldier I
" Then our company forgot the tragedy, and we danced think
of it, dear ! How quickly things are forgotten ! Then came the
terrible news from Oriskany ! I was nearly dead with fright until
your letter arrived. . . . So, God help us ! we danced and laughed
and chattered once more when Arnold's troops came.
" I did not quite share the admiration of the women for General
Arnold. He is not finely fibred ; not a man who appeals to me ;
though I am very sorry for the slight that the Congress has put
upon him; and it is easy to see that he is a brave and dashing
officer, even if a trifle coarse in the grain and inclined to be a lit-
tle showy. What I liked best about him was his deep admira-
tion and friendship for our dear General Schuyler, which does
him honor, and doubly so because General Schuyler has few
friends in politics, and Arnold was perfectly fearless in showing
his respect and friendship for a man who could do him no favors.
" Dear, a strange and amusing thing has happened. A few
acore of friendly Oneidas and lukewarm Onondagas came here
299
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
to pay their respects to Magdalen Brant, who, they heard, was
living at our house.
" Magdalen received them; she is a sweet girl and very good
to her wild kin ; and so father permitted them to camp in the empty
house in the sugar-bush, aud sent them food and tobacco and
enough rum to please them without starting them war-da DC -\
" Now listen. You have heard me tell of the Stonish Giants
*-Hhoae legendary men of stone whom the Iroquois, Hurons,
Algonquins, and Lenape stood in such dread of two hundred
years ago, and whom our historians believe to have been some
lost company of Spaniards in armor, strayed northward from
Cortez's army.
" Well, then, this is what occurred :
i hey were all at me to put on that armor which hangs in the
hall the same suit which belonged to the first Maid-at-Arms,
and which she is painted in, and which I wore that last memo-
rable night you remember.
" So, to please them, I dressed in it helmet and all and came
down. Sir George Covert's bone stood at the stockade gate, and
somebody I think it was General Arnold dared me to ride it in
my armor.
"Well, . a!. Then a mad desire for a gallop seized me
I had not mounted a horse since that last ride with you and I
set spurs to the poor beast, who wan already dancing under the
unaccustomed burden, and away we tore.
" My conscience I what a ride that was t and the dang of my
armor set the poor hone frantic till I could scarce govern him.
Then the absurd happened. I wheeled the hone into the past-
ure, meaning to let him tire himself, for he was really running
away with me ; when, all at once, I saw a hundred terror-stricken
savage* rush out of the sugar-house, stand staring a second, thea
take to their legs with most doleful cries and boots and piteous
bowls,
Oonahf The Stonish Giants have returned I Oonah t Oo-
nahl The Giants of Stone r
My vizor was down and locked. I called out to them in Dela-
ware, but at the sound of my voice they ran the' faster five score
frantic barbarians I And, dear, if they have stopped running yet
I do not know it. for they never came back.
" But the most absurd part of it all is that the Onondagas, who
are none too friendly with us, though they pretend to be, have told
the Cayugas that the Stonish Giants have returned to earth from
Biskoona, which is bell. And I doubt not that the dreadful news
will spread all through the Six Nations, with, perhaps, some
300
THE HOME TRAIL
astonishing results to us. For scouts have already come in, re-
porting trouble between General Burgoyne and his Wyandots, who
declare they have had enough of the war and did not enlist to
fight the Stonish Giants which excuse is doubtless meaningless
to him.
" And other scouts from the northwest say that St. Leger can
scarce hold the Senecas to the siege of Stanwix because of their
great loss at Oriskany, which they are inclined to attribute to
spells cast by their enemies, who enjoy the protection of the Ston-
ish Giants.
" Is it not all mad enough for a child's dream?
" Ay, life and love are dreams, dear, and a mad world spins
them out of nothing. . . . Forgive me. ... I have been sewing on
my wedding-gown again. And it is nigh finished.
" Good-night. I love you. D."
Blindly I groped for the remaining letter and tore
the seal.
" Sir George has just had news of you from an Oneida who
says you may be here at any moment ! And I, O God ! terrified
at my own mad happiness, fearing myself in that meeting, begged
him to wed me on the morrow. I was insane, I think, crazed
with fear, knowing that, were I not forever beyond you, I must
give myself to you and abide in hell for all eternitv !
" And he was astonished, I think, but kind, as he always is;
and now the dreadful knowledge has come to me that for me there
is no refuge, no safety in marriage which I, poor fool, fled to for
sanctuary lest I do murder on my own soul !
"What shall I do? What can I do? I have given my word
to wed him on the morrow. If it be mortal sin to show ingrati-
tude to a father and deceive a lover, what would it be to deceive
a husband and disgrace a father?
" And I, silly innocent, never dreamed but that temptation ceased
within the holy bonds of wedlock though sadness might endure
forever.
" And now I know ! IL he imminent and instant presence
of my marriage I know that f shall love you none the less, shall
tempt and be tempted none the less. And, in this resistless,
eternal love, I may fall, dragging you down with me to our end-
less punishment.
"It was not the fear of punishment that kept me true to
301
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
my vows before; it was something within me, I don't know
what
" But, if I were wedded with him, it would be fear of punish-
ment alone that could save me not terror of flames ; I could en-
dure them with you, but the new knowledge that has come to me
that my punishment would be the one thing I could not endure
eternity without you I
" Neither in heaven nor in hell may I have you. Is there no
way, my beloved? Is there no place for us?
.
" I have been to the porch to tell Sir George that I must post-
pone the wedding. I did not tell him. He was standing with
Magdalen Brant, and she was crying. I did not know she had
received bad news. She said the news was had. Perhaps Sir
George can help her.
" I will tell him later that the wedding must be postponed
I don't know why, either. I cannot think. I can scarcely see to
write. Oh, help me once more, my darling I Do not come to Var-
icks' I That is all I desire on earth I For we must never, newer,
see each other again I"
Stunned, I reeled to my feet and stumbled out mt<>
the moonlight, staring across the misty wilderness
into the east, where, beyond the forests, som
she lay, perhaps a bride.
A deathly chill struck through and through me.
To a free man, with one shred of pity, honor, unselfish
love, that appeal must be answered. And he were the
basest man in all the world who should ignore it and
show his face at Varick Manor were he free to choose.
But I was not free; I was a military servant, pledged
under solemn oath and before God to obedience
stant, unquestioning, unfaltering obedience.
And in my trembling hand I held my written orders
to report at Varick Manor.
XX
COCK-CROW
AT dawn we left the road and struck the Oneida
trail north of the river, following it swiftly, bear-
ing a little north of east until, towards noon, we came
into the wagon-road which runs over the Mayfield hills
and down through the outlying bush farms of Mayfield
and Kingsborough.
Many of the houses were deserted, but not all; here
and there smoke curled from the chimney of some lone-
ly farm; and across the stump pasture we could see
a woman laboring in the sun-scorched fields and a
man, rifle in hand, standing guard on a vantage-point
which overlooked his land.
Fences and gates became more frequent, crossing the
rough road every mile or two, so that we were constant-
ly letting down and replacing cattle- bars, unpinning
rude gates, or climbing over snake fences of split rails.
Once we came to a cross-roads where the fence had
been demolished and a warning painted on a rough
pine board above a wayside watering-trough.
"WARNING!
" All farmers and townsfolk are hereby requested and ordered
to remove gates, stiles, cow -bars, and fences, which includes all
obstructions to the public highway, in order that the cavalry
may pass without difficulty. Any person found felling trees
across this road, or otherwise impeding the operations of cavalry
by building brush, stump, rail, or stone fences across this road,
will be arrested and tried before a court on charge of aiding and
giving comfort to the enemy. G. COVERT,
" Captain Commanding Legion."
303
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Kither this order did not apply to the cross-road
which we now filed into, or the owners of adjacent
lands paid no heed to it ; for presently, a few rods ahead
of us, we saw a snake fence barring the road and a
man with a pack on his back in the act of climbing
over it.
He was going in the same direction that we were,
and seemed to be a fur -trader laden with packets of
peltry.
I said this to Murphy, who laughed and looked at
Mount.
"Who carries pelts to Quebec in August?" asked
Elerson, grinning.
"There's the skin of a wolverine dangling from his
pack," I said, in a low voice.
Murphy touched Mount's arm, and they halted until
the man ahead had rounded a turn in the road; then
v sprang forward, creeping swiftly to the shelter
of the undergrowth at the bend of the road, while K
son and I followed at an easy pace.
"What is it?" I asked, as we rejoined them where
they were kneeling, looking after the figure ahead.
"Nothing, sir; we only want to see them pelts, Tim
and me."
" Do you know the man?" I demanded.
Murphy gazed musingly at Mount through nar-
rowed eyes. Mount, in a brown study, stared b,i
"Phwere th' divil have I seen him, I dunnoa!" mut-
tered Murphy. "Jack, 'tis wan mush-rat looks like
th next, an' all thrappers has the same cut to thcml
Yonder's no thrapj
"Nor peddler," added Mount: "the strap of the
Delaware baskets never bowed his legs."
"Thrue, avick! Wisha, lad, 'tis horses he knows
better than snow-shoes, bed-plates, an' thrip-sticks!
An' I've seen him, I think!"
304
COCK-CROW
"Where?" I asked.
He shook his head, vacantly staring. Moved by
the same impulse, we all started forward ; the man was
not far ahead, but our moccasins made no noise in the
dust and we closed up swiftly on him and were at his
elbow before he heard us.
Under the heavy sunburn the color faded in his
cheeks when he saw us. I noted it, but that was
nothing strange considering the perilous conditions
of the country and the sudden shock of our appear-
ance.
"Good-day, friend/' cried Mount, cheerily.
"Good-day, friends/' he replied, stammering as
though for lack of breath.
"God save our country, friend," added Elerson,
gravely.
"God save our country, friends," repeated the man.
So far, so good. The man, a thick, stocky, heavy-
eyed fellow, moistened his broad lips with his tongue,
peered furtively at me, and instantly dropped his eyes.
At the same instant memory stirred within me ; a vague
recollection of those heavy, black eyes, of that broad,
bow-legged figure set me pondering.
"Me fri'nd," purred Murphy, persuasively, "is th'
Frinch thrappers balin' August peltry f'r to sell in
Canady?"
"I've a few late pelts from the lakes," muttered the
man, without looking up.
"Domned late," cried Murphy, gayly. "Sure they
do say, if ye dhraw a summer mink an' turrn th' pelt
inside out like a glove, the winther fur will sprout in-
side wid fashtin' an' prayer."
The man bent his eyes obstinately on the ground;
instead of smiling he had paled.
" Have you the skin of a wampum bird in that bale?"
asked Mount, pleasantly.
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Elerson struck the pack with the flat of his hand;
the mangy wolverine pelt crackled.
"Green hides! Green hides!" laughed Mount, sar-
castically. "Come, my friend, we're your customers.
Down with your bales and 111 buy."
Murphy had laid a heavy hand on the man's shoul-
der, halting him short in his tracks; Elerson, rifle
cradled in the hollow of his left arm, poked his f
linger into the bales, then sniffed at the aperture.
" There are green hides there!" he exclaimed, step-
ping back. "Jack, slip that pack off!"
The man started forward, crying out that he had no
time to waste, but Murphy jerked him back by the col-
lar and Elerson seized his right arm.
" Wait!" I said, sharply. " You cannot stop a man
likr this on the highway!"
" You don't know us, sir," replied Mount, impudently.
" Come, Colonel Ormond," added Elerson, almost sav-
agely. "You're our captain no longer. Give way,
sir. Answer for your own men, and well answer to
Danny Morgan!"
Mount, struggling to unfasten the pack, looked over
his huge shoulders at me.
"Not that we're not fond of you, sir; but we know
this old fox nov
" You lie!" shrieked the man, hurling his full weight
at Murphy and tearing his right arm free from EK r-
son's grip.
There came a flash, an explosion ; through a cloud
of smoke I saw the fellow's right arm stretched straight
up in the air, his hand clutching a smoking pistol, and
Elerson holding the arm rigid in a grip of steel.
Instantly Mount tripped the man flat on his face in
the dust, and Murphy jerked his arms behind his back,
tying them fast at the wrists with a cord which Eler-
son cut from the pack and flung to him.
306
COCK-CROW
"Rip up thim bales, Jack!" said Murphy. "Yell
find them full o' powther an' ball an' cutlery, sorr, or
I'm a liar!" he added to me. "This limb o' Lucifer
is wan o' Francy McCraw's renegados! Danny Red-
stock, sorr, th' tirror av the Sacandagal"
Redstock ! I had seen him at Broadalbin that even-
ing in May, threatening the angry settlers with his
rifle, when Dorothy and the Brandt-Meester and I had
ridden over with news of smoke in the hills.
Murphy tied the prostrate man's legs, pulled him
across the dusty road to the bushes, and laid him on
his back under a great maple-tree.
Mount, knife in hand, ripped up the bales of crack-
ling peltry, and Elerson delved in among the skins,
flinging them right and left in his impatient search.
"There's no powder here," he exclaimed, rising to
his knees on the road and staring at Mount ; " nothing
but badly cured beaver and mangy musk-rat"
"Well, he baled 'em to conceal something 1" insisted
Mount. "No man packs in this moth-eaten stuff for
love of labor. What's that parcel in the bottom?"
" Not powder," replied Elerson, tossing it out, where
it rebounded, crackling.
"Squirrel pelts," nodded Mount, as I picked up the
packet and looked at the sealed cords. The parcel
was addressed: "General Barry St Leger, in camp
before Stanwix." I sat down on the grass and began
to open it, when a groan from the prostrate prisoner
startled me. He had struggled to a sitting posture,
and was facing me, eyes bulging from their sockets.
Every vestige of color had left his visage.
"For God's sake don't open thatl" he gasped
" there is naught there, sir "
" Silence 1" roared Mount, glaring at him, while
Murphy and Elerson, dropping their armfuls of pelts*
came across the road to the bank where I sat
007
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
"I will not be silent !" screamed the man, rocking
to and fro on the ground. "I did not do that! I
know nothing of what that packet holds! A Mohawk
runner gave it to me I mean that I found it on the
1"
The riflemen stared at him in contempt while I cut
the strings of the parcel and unrolled the bolt of heavy
miller's cloth.
At fir t 1 did not comprehend what all that mass of
fluffy hair could be. A deep gasp from Mount en-
lightened me, and I dropped the packet in a revul
of horror indescribable. For the parcel was fairly
bursting with tightly packed scalps.
In the deathly silence I heard Redstock's hoarse
breathing. Mount knelt down and gently lifted a heavy
mass of dark, silky hair.
At last Elerson broke the silence, speaking in a
strangely gentle and monotonous voice.
"I think this hair was Janet McCrea's. I saw her
many times at Half-moon. No maid in Tryon County
had hair like here."
Shuddering, Mount lifted a long braid of dark-brown
hair fastened to a hoop painted blue. And Elerson, in
that strange monotone, continued speaking:
''The hair on this scalp is braided to show that the
woman was a mother; the skin stretched on a blue
hoop confirms it
* The murderer has painted the skin yellow with ml
dots to represent tears shed for the dead by her family.
There is a death-maul painted below in black ; it shows
how she was killed."
He laid the scalp back very carefully. Under the
mass of hair a bit of paper stuck out, and I drew it
from the dreadful packet It was a sealed letter di-
rected to General St. Leger, and I opened and read the
contents aloud in the midst of a terrible silence.
301
COCK-CROW
" SACANDAGA VLAIE,
- General Barry St. Leger: " Au t us * *?' **77.
" SIR, I send you under care of Daniel Redstock the first
packet of scalps, cured, dried, hooped, and painted ; four dozen in
all, at twenty dollars a dozen, which will be eighty dollars. This
you will please pay to Daniel Redstock, as I need money for to-
bacco and rum for the men and the Senecas who are with me.
"Return invoice with payment acquitted by the bearer, who
will know where to find me. Below I have prepared a true in-
voice. Your very humble servant,
" F. McCRAW.
" Invoice.
(6) Six scalps of farmers, green hoops to show they were killed
in their fields; a large white circle for the sun, showing
it was day ; black bullet mark on three ; hatchet on two.
(2) Two of settlers, surprised and killed in their houses or barns ;
hoops red ; white circle for the sun ; a little red foot to show
they died fighting. Both marked with bullet symbol.
(4) Four of settlers. Two marked by little yellow flames to show
how they died. (My Senecas have had no prisoners for
burning since August third.) One a rebel clergyman, his
band tied to the scalp-hoop, and a little red foot under a red
cross painted on the skin. (He killed two of my men be-
fore we got him.) One, a poor scalp, the hair gray and
thin; the hoop painted brown. (An old man whom we
found in bed in a rebel house.)
(12) Twelve of militia soldiers ; stretched on black hoops four inches
in diameter, inside skin painted red ; a black circle showing
they were outposts surprised at night ; hatchet as usual.
(12) Twelve of women ; one unbraided a very fine scalp (bought
of a Wyandot from Burgoyne's army), which I paid full
price for; nine braided, hoops blue, red tear-marks; two
very gray; black hoops, plain brown color inside; death-
maul marked in red.
(6) Six of boys' scalps; small green hoops; red tears; symbols
in black of castete, knife, and bullet.
(5) Five of girls' scalps; small yellow hoops. Marked with the
Seneca symbol to whom they were delivered before scalping*
(l) One box of birch-bark containing an infant's scalp; very lit-
tle hair, but well dried and cured. (I must ask full price
for this.)
48 scalps assorted, @ 20 dollars a dozen 80 dollars.
" Received payment, F. McCRAW."
309
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
The ghastly face of the prisoner turned livid, and
he shrieked as Mount caught him by the collar and
dragged him to his feet
" Jack/' I said, hoarsely, " the law sends that man
before a court"
"Court be damned 1" growled Mount, as Elerson
uncoiled the pack-rope, flung one end over a maple
limb above, and tied a running noose on the other end.
Murphy crowded past me to seize the prisoner, but
I caught him by the arm and pushed him aside.
"Men!" I said, angrily; "I don't care whose com.
mand you are under. I'm an officer, and you'll listen
to me and obey me with respect Murphy I"
The Irishman gave me a savage stare.
"By God!" I cried, cocking my nlk , " if one of you
dares disobey. 111 shoot him where he stands! Mur-
phy ! Stand aside ! Mount, bring that prisoner here ! "
There was a pause; then Murphy touched his cap
and stepped back quietly, nodding to Mount, who
shuffled forward, pushing the prisoner and darting a
glance at me.
"Redstock," I said, where is McCraw?"
A torrent of filthy abuse poured out of the prise.:
writhing mouth. He cursed us, threatening us with a
terrible revenge from McCraw if we harmed a hair of
his head.
Astonished, I saw that he had mistaken my attitude
for one of fear. I strove to question him, but he inso-
lently refused all information. My men ground their
teeth with impatience, and I saw that I could control
them no longer.
So I gave what color I could to the lawless act of
justice, partly to save my waning authority, partly to
save them the consequences of executing a prisoner
who might give valuable information to the authorities
in Albany.
310
COCK-CROW
I ordered Elerson to hold the prisoner and adjust the
noose; Murphy and Mount to the rope's end. Then I
said: "Prisoner, this field-court finds you guilty of
murder and orders your execution. Have you any-
thing to say before sentence is carried out?"
The wretch did not believe we were in earnest. I
nodded to Elerson, who drew the noose tight ; the pris-
oner's knees gave way, and he screamed; but Mount
and Murphy jerked him up, and the rope strangled the
screech in his throat.
Sickened, I bent my head, striving to count the sec-
onds as he hung twisting and quivering under the
maple limb.
Would he never die? Would those spasms nevei
end?
"Shtep back, sorr, if ye plaze, sorr," said Murphy,
gently. " Sure, sorr, ye're as white as a sheet. Walk
away quiet-like; ye're not used to such things, sorr."
I was not, indeed; I had never seen a man done to
death in cold blood. Yet I fought off the sickening
faintness that clutched at my heart; and at last the
dangling thing hung limp and relaxed, turning slow-
ly round and round in mid-air.
Mount nodded to Murphy and fell to digging with
a sharpened stick. Elerson quietly lighted his pipe
and aided him, while Murphy shaved off a white square
of bark on the maple-tree under the slow-turning body,
and I wrote with the juice of an elderberry :
"Daniel Redstock, a child murderer, executed by
American Riflemen for his crimes, under order of George
Ormond, Colonel of Rangers, August 19, 1777. Rene-
gades and Outlaws take warning!"
When Mount and Elerson had finished the shallow
grave, they laid the scalps of the murdered in the hole,
stamped down the earth, and covered it with sticks
and branches lest a prowling outlaw or Seneca dis-
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
inter the remains and reap a ghastly reward for theia
redemption from General tlu* Hon. Barry St LCL
Commander of the British, Hessians, Loyal Colonials,
and Indi -amp before Fort St
As \VL K ft that dreadful spot, and before I could in-
terfere to prevent them, the three riflemen emptied tlu-ir
pieces into the swinging corpse a useless, foolish, and
savage performance, and I said so sharj
They were very docile and contrite and otxv
now, explaining that it was a customary safeguard,
as hanged men had been revived more than once a
flimsy excuse, indeed!
"Very well/' I said; "your shots may draw Me-
Craw's whole force down on us. But doubtless you
know much more than your officers like the militia
at Oriskany."
The reproof struck home ; Mount muttered his apol-
ogy ; Murphy offered to carry my rifle if I was fatigued.
It was thoughtless, I admit that/' said Elerson,
looking backward, uneasily. " But we're close to the
patroon's boundary."
" We're within bounds now," said Mount " For
Bush lies over there to the southeast, and the Ylau
yonder below the mountain-notch. This wagon-track
runs into the louse road."
I low far are we from the manor?" I asked.
out two miles and a half, sir," replied Mount
"Doubtless some of Sir George Covert's horsemen
heard our shots, and well meet 'em cantering out to
stigate."
I had not imagined we were as near as that A
painful thrill passed through me; my heart leaped.
beating feverishly in my breast
Minute after minute dragged as we filed swiftly on-
ward, mechanically treading in each <>th ks.
I strove to consider, to think, to picture the sad, strange
312
COCK-CROW
home-coming to see her as she would stand, stunned,
astounded that I had ignored her appeal to help her by
my absence.
I could not think ; my thoughts were chaos ; my brain
throbbed heavily ; I fixed my hot eyes on the road and
strode onward, numbed, seeing, hearing nothing.
And, of a sudden, a shout rang out ahead ; horsemen
in line across the road, rifles on thigh, moved forward
towards us; an officer reversed his sword, drove it
whizzing into the scabbard, and spurred forward, fol-
lowed by a trooper, helmet flashing in the sun.
"Ormondl" cried the officer, flinging himself from
his horse and holding out both white-gloved hands.
" Sir George, ... I am glad to see you. ... I am very
happy," I stammered, taking his hands.
"Cousin Ormond!" came a timid voice behind me.
I turned ; Ruyven, in full uniform of a cornet, flung
himself into my arms.
I could scarce see him for the mist in my eyes; I
pressed the boy close to my breast and kissed him on
both cheeks.
Utterly unable to speak, I sat down on a log, holding
Sir George's gloved hand, my arm on Ruyven 's laced
shoulder. An immense fatigue came over me; I had
not before realized the pace we had kept up for these
two months nor the strain I had been under.
"Singleton!" called out Sir George, "take the men
to the barracks; take my horse, too III walk back.
And, Singleton, just have your men take these fine
fellows up behind" with a gesture towards the rifle-
men. " And see that they lack for nothing in quarters ! "
Grinning sheepishly, the riflemen climbed up behind
the troopers assigned them; the troop cantered off, and
Sir George pointed to Ruyven 's horse, indicating that
it was for me when I was rested.
"We heard shots," he said; "I mistrusted it might
313
Till: MAID-AT-ARMS
be a salute from you, but came ready for anything,
you see Lordl How thin you've grown, Orm>n<l !
a cornet, cousin!" burst out Ruyven, (nigging
me again in his excitement. "I charged with
squadron when we scattered McDonald's outlaws! A
man let drive at me "
"Oh, come, come," laughed Sir George, "G'
Ormond has had more bullets driven at him than our
Legion pouches in their bullet-bags!"
"A man let drive at me!" breathed Ruyven, in rapt-
ure. "I was not hit, cousin! A man let drive at me,
and I heard the bullet!"
"Nonsense!" said Sir George, mischievously; "you
heard a bumble-bee!"
"He always says that. ted Ruyven, looking
at me. 1 t was a bullet, for it went zo-o-.
tsing-g! right past my ear; and Sergeant West sh
ed, 'Cut him cl . . I Jut another trooper did
that. However,] i-K like the devil!"
"Which wa juired Sir George, in pretend jd
And we all laughed.
s good to see you back all safe and sound," said
George, warmly. " Sir Lupus will be delighted and
the half crazcxL You should hear them talk
of their hero!"
" Dorothy will be glad, too/' said Ruyven. " You'll
be in time for the wedding."
ove to smile, facing Sir George with an effort.
His face, in the full sunlight, seemed haggard and care-
worn, and the light had died out in his eyes.
"For the wedding," he repeated "We are to be
wedded to-morrow. You did not know that, did y<
"Yes; I did know it Dorothy wrote me," I said.
A numbed feeling crept over me; I scarce heard
words I uttered when I wished him happiness,
held my proffered hand a second, then dropped it
COCK-CROW
iessly, thanking me for my good wishes in a low
voice.
There was a vague, troubled expression in his eyes, a
strange lack of feeling. The thought came to me like a
stab that perhaps he had learned that the woman he
was to wed did not love him.
" Did Dorothy expect me?" I asked, miserably.
"I think not/ 1 said Sir George.
"She believed you meant to follow Arnold to Stan-
wix," broke in Ruyven. "I should have done it! I
regard General Arnold as the most magnificent sot
dier of the age!" he added.
"I was ordered to Varick Manor," I said, looking
at Sir George. "Otherwise I might have followed
Arnold. As it is I cannot stay for the wedding; I
must report at Stillwater, leaving by nine o'clock in
the morning."
" Lord, Ormond, what a fire-eater you have become!'*
he said, smiling from his abstraction. " Are you ready
to mount Ruyven 's nag and come home to a good bed
and a glass of something neat?"
"Let Ruyven ride," I said; "I need the walk, Sir
George."
"Need the walk!" he exclaimed. "Have you not
had walks enough? and your moccasins and buck-
skins in ragsl"
But I could not endure to ride ; a nerve-racking rest-
lessness was on me, a desire for movement, for utter
exhaustion, so that I could no longer have even strength
to think.
Ruyven, protesting, climbed into his dragoon-saddle ;
Sir George walked beside him and I with Sir George.
Long, soft August lights lay across the leafy road;
the blackberries were in heavy fruit; scarlet thimble-
berries, over-ripe, dropped from their pithy cones as we
brushed the sprays with our sleeves.
315
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Sir George was saying: "No, we have nothing more
to fear from McDonald's gang, but a scoi in,
three days since, bringing word of McCraw's outlaws
who have appeared in the west "
He stopped abruptly, listening to a sound th;it I
also heard ; the sudden drumming of unshod hoofs
the road behind us.
"What the devil" he began, then cocked his riile;
I threw up mine; a shrill cock-crow rang out above the
noise of tramping horses; a galloping mass of horse-
men burst into view behind us, coining like .
lanche.
"McCraw!" shouted Sir George. Ruyven fired
Sir George's rifle and mine exploded togeth-
er; a horse and rider went down with a crash, but the
others came straight on, and the cock-crow rang out
triumphantly above the roar of the rushing horses.
K' ; , 1 houted," ride for yoi.r 1
" 1 won't!" he cried, furiously; but I seized his bridle,
swung his frightened horse, and struck the animal
across the buttocks with clubbed rifle. Away i
the maddened beast, almost unseating his rider, \sh
both stirrups at the first frantic bound and cluntf
helplessly to his saddle-^inine! while the horse car
him away like the wii
Then I sprang into the ozier thicket, Sir George at
mv side, and ran a little way; but they caught us,
even before we reached the timber, and threw us to the
ground, tying us up like basted capons with straps
from their saddles. Maltreated, struck, kicked, mauled,
and dragged out to the road, I looked for instant death ;
but a lank creature flung me across his saddle, face
downward, and, in a second, the whole band had moi
ed, wheeled about, and were galloping westward, ventre
atcrre.
Almost dead from the saddle-pommel which knocked
316
COCK-CROW
the breath from my body, suffocated and strangled
with dust, I hung dangling there in a storm of flying
sticks and pebbles. Twice consciousness fled, only to
return with the blood pounding in my ears. A third
time my senses left me, and when they returned I
lay in a cleared space in the woods beside Sir George,
the sun shining full in my face, flung on the ground
near a fire, over which a kettle was boiling. And on
every side of us moved McCraw's riders, feeding their
horses, smoking, laughing, playing at cards, or com-
ing up to sniff the camp-kettle and poke the boiling
meat with pointed sticks.
Behind them, squatted in rows, sat two dozen Ind-
ian*, watching us in ferocious silence.
XXI
THE CRIS
FOR a while I lay there stupefied, liinj>-liinl>ed.
less, closing my aching eyes under the glittering
red rays of the westering sun
My parched throat throbbed and throbbed; I could
scarce! \ to close my swollen hands where
v had tied my wrists, although somebody had
the cords that bound me.
" Sir George," I said, in a low voice.
"Yes, I am here," he replied, instantly.
"Are you hi;
"No, Ormond. Are you?"
"No; very tired; that is all "
I rolled over; my head reeled and I held it in my
benumbed hands, looking at Sir George, who lay on
le, cheek pillowed on his am
" This is a miserable end of it all," he said, with calm
bitterness. "But that it involves you, I should
dare blame fortune for the Tool I acted. I have
deserts; but it's cnul f..r vou."
The sickening whirling in my head became unen-
durable. I lay down, facum him, eyes closed.
" It was not your fault," I said, dully.
"There is no profit in discussing that," he mut-
tered. "They took us instead of scalping
while there's life there's hope, ... a little ho; I Jut
I'd sooner they'd finish me here than rot in tluir stink-
ing prison-ships. . . . Ormond, are you awal
318
THE CRISIS
"Yes, Sir George/'
"If they if the Indians get us, and and begin
their you know "
"Yes; I know/'
" If they begin . . . that . . . insult them, taunt them,
sneer at them, laugh at them! yes, laugh at them!
Do anything to enrage them, so they'll they'll finish
quickly. ... Do you understand?"
"Yes/' I muttered; and my voice sounded miles
away.
He lay brooding for a while ; when I opened my eyes
he broke out fretfully : " How was I to dream that Mc-
Craw could be so near! that he dared raid us within
a mile of the house! Oh, I could die of shame, Or-
mondl die of shamel . . . But I won't die that way; oh
no/' he added, with a frightful smile that left his face
distorted and white.
He raised himself on one elbow.
"Ormond," he said, staring at vacancy, " what triv-
ial matters a man thinks of in the shadow of death.
I can't consider it; I can't be reconciled to it; I can't
even pray. One absurd idea possesses me that Sin-
gleton will have the Legion now; and he's a slack
drill-master he is, indeed! . . . I've a million things to
think of an idle life to consider, a misspent career to
repent, but the time is too short, Ormond. . . . Perhaps
all that will come at the instant of of "
"Death," I said, wearily.
"Yes, yes; that's it, death. I'm no coward; I'm
calm enough but I'm stunned. I can't think for the
suddenness of it! . . . And you just home; and Ruy-
ven there, snuggled close to you as a house-cat and
then that sound of galloping, like a fly-stung herd of
cattle in a pasture!"
"I think Ruyven is safe," I said, closing my eyes.
"Yes, he's safe. Nobody chased him; they'll know
319
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
at the manor by this time; they knew lone: aeo. . . .
My men will be out. . . . Where are we, Orniond?"
" I don't know," I murmured, drowsily. The months
of fatigue, the unbroken strain, the feverish weeks spent
in endless trails, the constant craving for moTement
to occupy my thoughts, the sleepless nights which
were the more unendurable because physical exhaus-
tion could not give me peace or rest, now told on me.
I drowsed in the very presence of death ; and the stupor
settled heavily, bringing, for the first time since I left
Varick Manor, rest and immunity from despair or even
I cared for nothing : hope of her was dead ; hope of
life might die and I was acquiescent, contented, glad
of the end. I had endured too much.
My sleep or unconsciousness could not have lasted
long; the sun was not yet level with my eyes when I
lied to find Sir George tugging at my sleeve and
a man in a soiled and tarnished scarlet uniform stand-
ing over me.
But that brief respite from the strain had re.
me; a bucket of cold water stood near the fire, and I
thrust my burning face into it, drinking my fill, while
the renegade in > arlet bawled at me and fumed and
cursed, demanding my attention to what he was say-
ing.
>u damned impudent rebel!" he yelled; "am I
to stand around here awaiting your pleasure while you
swill your skin full?"
:j>ed my lips with my torn hands, and got to my
feet painfully, a trifle dizzy for a moment, but perfect-
ly able to stand and to comprehend.
" I'm asking you," he snarled, "why we can't send
a flag to your people without their firing on it?"
.on't know what you mean,
" I do," said Sir George, blandly
720
THE CRISIS
"Oh, you do^ eh?" growled the renegade, turning on
him with a scowl. " Then tell me why our flag of truce
is not respected, if you can/'
"Nobody respects a flag from outlaws/' said Sir
George, coolly.
The fellow's face hardened and his eyes blazed. He
started to speak, then shut his mouth with a snap,
turned on his heel, and strode across the treeless glade
to where his noisy riders were saddling up, tightening
girths, buckling straps, and examining the unshod
feet of their horses or smoothing out the burrs from
mane and tail. The red sun glittered on their spurs,
rifles, and the flat buckles of their cross-belts. Their
uniform was scarlet and green, but some wore beaded
shirts of scarlet holland, belted in with Mohawk wam-
pum, and some were partly clothed like Cayuga Ind-
ians and painted with Seneca war-symbols a grew-
some sight.
There were sarages moving about the fire or I took
them for savages, until one half-naked lout, lounging
near, taunted me with a Scotch burr in his throat, and
I saw, in his horribly painted face, a pair of flashing
eyes fixed on me. And the eyes were blue.
There was something in that ghastly masquerade
so horrible, so unspeakably revolting, that a shiver of
pure fear touched me in every nerve. Except for the
voice and the eyes, he looked the counterpart of the
Senecas moving about near us; his skin, bare to the
waist, was stained a reddish copper hue; his black
hair was shaved except for the knot ; war-paint smeared
visage and chest, and two crimson quills rose from be-
hind his left ear, tied to the scalp-lock.
"Let him alone; don't answer him; he's worse than
the Indians," whispered Sir George.
Among the savages I saw two others with light eyes,
and a third I never should have suspected had not Sir
321
THE MA1D-AT-ARMS
George pointed out his feet, which were planted on the
ground like the feet of a white man when he walked,
! not parallel or toed-in.
But now the loud-voiced riders were climbing into
their saddles; the officer in scarlet, who had cursed and
iioned us, came towards us leading a h<
"You treacherous whelps!" he said, fiercely; "if a
flag can't go to you safely, we must send one of you
''. it. liy I leaven I you're both fit for roasting,
and it sickens me to send youl Rut one of you
goes and the other stays. Now fight it out and be
quick!"
An amazed silence followed ; then Sir George asked
why one of us was to be liberated and the other kept
prisoner.
"Because your sneaking rebel friends fire on the
white flap, I tell you!" cried the fellow, furiously ; " and
we've got to get a message to them. You are Capt
George Covert, are you not? Very good. \
rebel friends have taken Captain Walter Butler and
mean to hang him. Now you tell your people that
we've got Colonel Ormond and v. you
both, a colonel and a captain for Walter Butler. Do
you understand? That's what we value you at; a
rebel colonel and a rebel captain for a single loyal
captain."
1 ieorge turned to me. "There is not the faintest
chance of an exchange," he said, in French.
"Stop that!" threatened the man in scarlet, la
his hand on his hanger. "Speak English or Dela-
ware, do you hear?"
"Sir George," I said, "you will go, of course. I
shall remain and take the chance of exchange."
"Pardon," he said, coolly; " I remain here and pay
the piper for the tune I danced to. You will relieve me
of ray obligations by going," he added, stiffly.
322
THE CRISIS
"No," I said; "I tell you I don't care. Can't you
understand that a man may not care?"
"I understand/' he replied, staring at me; "and I
am that man, Ormond. Come, get into your saddle.
Good-bye. It is all right; it is perfectly just, and it
doesn't matter."
A shrill voice broke out 'across the cleared circle.
"Billy Bones! Billy Bones! Hae ye no flints f'r the
lads that ride? Losh, mon, we'll no be ganging north
the day, an' ye bide droolin' there wi' the blitherin'
Jacobites!"
"The flints are in McBarron's wagon! Wait, wait,
Francy McCraw!" And he hurried away, bawling for
the teamster McBarron.
" Sir George," I said, " take the chance, in Heaven's
name, for I shall not go. Don't dispute; don't stand
there! Man, man, don't delay, I tell you, or they'll
change their plan!"
"I won't go," he said, sharply. "Ormond, am I a
contemptible poltroon that I should leave you here to
endure the consequences of my own negligence? Do
you think I could accept life at that price?"
"I tell you to go!" I said, harshly. A horrid hope,
a terrible and unworthy temptation, had seized me like
a thing from hell. I trembled ; sweat broke out on me,
and I set my teeth, striving to think as the woman I
had lost would have had me think. "Quick!" I mut-
tered, "don't wait, don't delay; don't talk to me, I tell
you! Go! Go! Get out of my sight "
And all the time, pounding in my brain, the pulse
beat out a shameful thought; and mad temptations
swarmed, whispering close to my ringing ears that his
death was my only chance, my only possible salvation
and hers!
"Go!" I stammered, pushing him towards the horse;
" get into your saddle ! Quick, I tell you I I can't en-
323
THE MA1D-AT-ARMS
dure this! I am not made to endure everything, I tell
you I Can't you have a little mercy on me and k
me
I refuse," he said, sullenly.
"You refuse!" I stammered, beside myself with the
\orture I could no longer bear. "Then stand aside!
I'll i^oI'll KO if it costs me No! No! I can't; I
can't, I tell you; it costs too much! . . . Damn you, yu
may have the woman I love, but you >hal! leave me her
respect!"
"Ormond! Ormond ried, in sorrowful amaze-
ment ; but I was clean out of my head now, and I closed
with him, clraiitfini: him towards the horse.
1 ie shook himself free, glaring at r
"lam ... your superior . . . officer! "I panted, ad-
vancing on him ; " I order you to go!"
He looked me narrowly in the eyes. "And I refuse
obedience," he said, hoarsely. " You are out of your
miii
hen, by God!" I shrieked, "HI force you!"
Hilly Bones, Francy McCraw, and a Seneca came
hastening up. I leaped on McCraw and dealt him a
blow full in his bony fat n the lean cheek open.
They overpowered me tx >uld repeat the bl< \v ;
mg me down, kicking and pounding me as I
re, but the death -stroke I awaited was w
lu Id : the castete of the Seneca was jerked from his fist
Then they seized Sir George and forced him im
saddle, calling on four troopers to pilot him within
sight of the manor and shoot him if he attempted to
return.
" You tell them that if they refuse to exchange Wal-
ter Butler for Ormond, we've torments for Colonel Or-
mond that won't kill him under a week!" roared Billy
Bones.
McCraw, stupefied with amazement and rage, stood
324
THE CRISIS
mopping the blood from his blotched face, staring at
me out of his crazy blue eyes. For a moment his hand
fiddled with his hatchet, then Bones shoved him away,
and he strode off towards his horsemen, who were form-
ing in column of fours.
"You tell 'em/' shouted Bones, "that before we fin-
ish him they'll hear his screams in Albany! If they
want Colonel Ormond," he added, his voice rising to
a yell, " tell 'em to send a single man into the sugar-
bush. But if they hang Walter Butler, or if you try to
catch us with your cavalry, we'll take Ormond where
we'll have leisure to see what our Senecas can do with
him! Now ride! you damned "
He struck Sir George's horse with the flat of his
hanger; the horse bounded off, followed by four of
McCraw's riders, pistols cocked and hatchets loosened.
Bruised, dazed, exhausted, I lay there, listening to
the receding thudding of their horses' feet on the moss.
The crisis was over, and I had won not as 1 mi^lu
have chosen to win, but by a compromise with death
for deliverance from temptation.
If it was the compromise of a crazed creature, insane
from mental and physical exhaustion, it was not the
compromise of a weak man ; I did not desire death as
long as she lived. I dreaded to leave her alone in the
world. But, though she loved him not and did love
me I could not accept the future through his sacri-
fice and live to remember that he had laid down his
life for a friend who desired from him more than he
had renounced.
I was perfectly sane now ; a strange calmness came
over me; my mind was clear and composed; my medi-
tations serene. Free at last from hope, from sorrow-
ful passion, from troubled desire, I lay there thinking,
watching the long, red sun-rays slanting through the
woods.
32*
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Gratitude to God for a life ended ere I fell from His
grace, ere temptation entangK beyond deli\
ance; humble pride in the honorable traditions that
I had received and followed untainted ; deep, revt ;
thankfulness for the strength vouchsafed me in this
supreme crisis of my life i i of a madman,
perhaps, but stil! strength to be true, the power to
nounce these were the meditations that brought me
rest and a quietude I had never 1 ulun death
seemed a long way off and life on earth eternal.
The setting sun crimsoned the pines : the riders were
gathered along the hill-side, bending far < luir
saddles to scan the valley below. McCraw. his \\hite
face bound with a bloody rag, drew his stra lit (lay-
more and wound the tattered tartan around his wrist,
mot '.:lly Bones to ride on.
"March!" he cried, in his shrill voice, laying his
claymore level; and the long files moved off, spurs
and scabbards clanking, horses crowding and tram-
: in, faster and fasti T, till a far command set tl
trotting i* away into the west, where
the kindling sky reddened the world.
The world! it would be the same to-morrow with*
me: that maple- tree wnu Id not have changed a
leaf; th hovering, gauze-winged creature, drift-
through the calm air, would be alive when I was
It was difficult to understand. I repeated it to my-
self again and again, but the phrases had no meai
to me.
The sun set hts lay over the earth ; a
thrush, a wakened by the sweetness of the twilii/ht from
summer moping, whistled timidly, tcntati\vl\ ;
the silvery, evanescent notes floated away, away,
in endless, heavenly sereni;
A soft, leather-shod foot nudged me; I sat up, then
526
THE CRISIS
rose, holding out my wrists. They tied me loosely ; a
tall warrior stepped beside me; others fell in behind
with a patter of moccasined feet.
Then came an officer, pistol cocked and held muzzle
up. He was the only white man left.
"Forward," he said, nervously; and we started off
through the purple dusk.
Physical weariness and pain had left me; I moved
as in a dream. Nothing of apprehension or dismay
disturbed the strange calm of my soul ; even desire for
meditation left me; and a vague content wrapped me,
mind and body.
Distance, time, were meaningless to me now ; I could
goon forever; I could lie down forever; nothing mat-
tered ; nothing could touch me now.
The moon came up, flooding the woods with a creamy
light ; then a little stream, sparkling like molten silver,
crossed our misty path ; then a bare hill-side stretched
away, pale in the moonlight, vanishing into a luminous
veil of vapor, floating over a hollow where unseen water
lay.
We entered a grove of still trees standing wide apart
maple-trees, with the sap-pegs still in the bark. I
sat down on a log ; the Indians seated themselves in
a wide circle around me; the renegade officer walked
to the fringe of trees and stood there motionless.
Time passed serenely ; I had fallen drowsing, soothed
by the silvered silence; when through a dream I heard
a cock-crow.
Around me the Indians rose, all listening. Far
away a sound grew in the night the dull blows of
horses' hoofs on sod; a shot rang faintly, a distant
cry was echoed by a long-drawn yell and a volley.
The renegade officer came running back, calling
out, "McCraw has struck the Legion at the grist-
mill 1"
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
In the intense silence around me the noise of the
conflict grew, increasing, then became fainter and faint-
er until it died out to the westward and all was still.
The Indians came crowding back from the edge of
the grove, shoving through the circle of those wh<>
guarded me, pushing, pressing, surging around me.
"Give him to us!" they muttered, under their breath
"The flag has not come; they will hang your Walter
Butler! Give him to us! The Legion cavalry is
driving your riders into the westl Give him to us I
We wish to see how the Oriskany man can die!"
Dragged, pulled from one to another, I scarcely felt
their eluuh; I scarcely felt the furtive blows that fell
on me. The officer clung to me, fighting the savages
back with fist and elbow.
"Wait for McCraw!" he panted. "The flag may
come yet, you fools! Would you murder him and lose
Walter Butler forever? Wait till McCraw comes, I tell
"McCraw is riding for h said a chief.
" lisa lie!" said the officer; "he is drawing th
ambush!"
ve the prisoner to us!" cried the savages, clos-
" After all, what do we care for your Walter
Butler!" And again they rushed forward with a shout
Twice the officer drove them back with kicks and
blows, cursing their treachery in McCraw's absence;
then, as they drew their knives, clamoring, threat
ing, gathering for a last rush, into their midst bounded
an unearthly shape a squat and hideous figure, flut-
ng with scarlet rags. Arms akimho, the thing
planted itself before me, mouthing and slavering
fury.
ic Toad - woman ! Catrine Montour ! The Toad-
witch! "groaned the Senecas, shrinking hack, huddling
together as the hag whirled about and pointed at them.
328
THE CRISIS
" I want him 1 I want him ! Give him to me ! " yelped
the Toad-woman. " Fools ! Do you know where you
are? Do you know this grove of maple- trees?"
The Indians, amazed and cowed, slunk farther back.
The hag fixed her blazing eyes on them and raised
her arms.
" Fools 1 Fools!" she mouthed, "what madness
brought you here to this grove? to this place where the
Stonish Giants have returned, riding out of Biskoona!"
A groan burst from the Indians ; a chief raised his
arms, making the False-Faces' sign.
"Mother," he stammered, "we did not know I We
heard that the Stonish Giants had returned ; the Onon-
dagas sent us word, but we did not kruow this grove
was where they gathered from Biskoona ! McCraw sent
us here to await the flag."
"Liar!" hissed the hag.
"It is the truth," muttered the chief, shuddering.
"Witness if I speak the truth, ensigns of the three
clans!"
And a hollow groan burst from the cowering sav-
ages. "We witness, mother. It is the truth!"
"Witch!" cried the officer, in a shaking voice, "what
would you do with my prisoner? You shall not have
him, by the living God!"
"Senecas, take him!" howled the hag, pointing at
the officer. The fellow strove to draw his claymore,
but staggered and sank to the ground, covered under
a mass of savages. Then, dragged to his feet, they
pulled him back, watching the Toad -woman for a
sign.
"To purge this grove! To purge the earth of the
Stonish Giants!" she howled. "For this 1 ask this
prisoner. Give him to me! to me, priestess of the
six fires! Tiyanoga calls from behind the moon!
What Seneca dares disobey? Give him to me for a
329
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
sacrifice to Biskoona, that the Stonish ghosts be laid
and the doors of fire be closed i
tke him 1 Spare us the dreadful rites, O mot!
answered the chief, in a quivering voice. "Slay him
before us now and let us see the color of his blood,
so that we may depart in peace ere the Stonish Giants
ride forth from Biskoona and leave not one among us I"
"Neah!" cried the hag, furiously. "He dies in se-
cret!"
There was a silence of astonishment Spite of
superstitious terror, the Senecas knew that a sac:
cial death, to close Biskoona, could not occur in secret
Suddenly the chief leaped forward and dealt me a blow
with his castete. I f<ll, but staggered to my feet again.
"Mother!" began the chief /'let him die quick i
"Silence!" screamed the hag, supporting me.
hear, far off, the gates of Biskoona opening! 1 i
Ta-hone-ho-ga-wenl The doors open the doors of
flame! The Stonish Giants ride forth! O chief, for
your sacrilege you die!"
A horrified silence followed; the chief reeled back,
dropping the death-maul.
<lenly a horse's iron-shod foot rang out on a
stone, dose at hand. Straight thn >\u' h the moonlight,
advancing steadily, came a snorting horse; and, tow-
ering in the saddle, a magic shape clad in complete
steel, glittering in the moonlight
"Oonah!" shrieked the hag, seizing me in both arms.
With an unearthly howl the Senecas fled ; the Toad-
woman dropped me and bounded on the dazed rene-
gade; he turned, crying out in horror, stumbled, and
fell headlong down the bushy slope.
Then, as the hag halted, she seemed to grow, straight-
ening up, tall, broad, superb; towering into a supple
shape from which the scarlet rags fell fluttering around
like painted maple-leaves.
330
THE CRISIS
''Magdalen Brant!" I gasped, swaying where 1
stood, the blood almost blinding me.
From behind two steel-clad arms seized me and
dragged me backward; I stumbled against the horse;
the armored figure bent swiftly, caught me up, swung
me clear into the saddle in front, while the armor
creaked and strained and clashed with the effort.
Then my head was drawn gently back, falling on a
steel shoulder; two arms were thrust under mine, seiz-
ing the bridle. The horse wheeled towards the north,
stepping quietly through the moonlight, steadily, slowly
northward, through misty woodlands and ferny glades
and deep fields swimming under the moon, across a
stony stream, up through wet meadows, into a silvery
road, and across a bridge which echoed mellow thunder
under the trample of the iron-shod horse.
The stockade gate was shut; an old slave opened
it a trembling black man, who shot the bolts and
tottered beside us, crying and pressing my hand to his
eyes.
Men came from the stables, men ran from the quar-
ters, lanterns Lclimmered, windows in the house open-
ed, and I heard a vague clamor growing around me,
fainter now, yet dinning in my ears until a soft, dense
darkness fell, weighing on my lids till they closed.
xxn
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
DAY broke with a thundering roll of drums. In-
I stumbled out of bed, drafted ..n my
clothes, and, half awake and half dressed, crept to
open window. The level morning sun blazed on a
slanting rifles passing; a solid column of Conti-
nental mf.tntry, drums and fifes leading, came swi
he stockade; knapsacks, cross-belts, gaiters,
gray with dust ; officers riding ahead with naked sw<
drawn, color-bearers carrying the beautiful new st.
ard, stars shining, red and white stripes stirring la/
in brilliant, silken billows.
The morning air rang with th :hr
fifes, the drums beat steadily in solid cadence to the
lone, nppling trample of feet
\\ithm the stockade an incessant clamor filled thu
air; the grounds around the house were packed with
soldiers, some leading out mules, some loading batt-
horses, some drawing and carrying water, some form-
ing ranks, shouting their numbers for column of foi
< George Covert's riders of the Legion had halted
under my window, rifles slung, helmets strapped; a
trumpeter in embroidered jacket sat his horse in front,
corded trumpet reversed flat on his thigh.
Gearing my eyes with unsteady hand, I peered
dizzily at the spectacle below; my ears rang with the
tumult of arrival and departure; and, through the in-
creasing uproar and the thundering rhythm of th*
332
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
drums, memories of the past night flashed up, livid
as flames in darkness.
The endless columns of Continentals were still pour-
ing by the stockade, when, above the dinning drums,
I heard my door shaking and a voice calling me by
name.
" Ormond ! Ormond ! Open the door, man 1 "
With stiff limbs dragging, I made my way to the door
and pulled back the bolt. Sir George Covert, in full
uniform, sprang in and caught my hands in his.
" Ormond 1 Ormond!" he cried, in deep reproach.
" Why did you not tell me long since that 3 7 ou loved
her? You knew she loved you! What blind vio-
lence have you and Dorothy done yourselves and each
other and me, Ormond! and yet another very dear
to me with your mad obstinacy and mistaken chiv-
alry!"
I saw the grave, kind eyes searching mine, I heard
his unsteady voice, but I could not respond. An im-
mense fatigue chained mind and tongue; intelligence
was there, but the tension had relaxed, and I stood
dull, nerveless, my hands limp in his.
"Ormond," he said, gently, "we ride south in a few
moments; you will be leaving for Stillwater in an
hour. Gates's left wing is marching on Balston, and
news is in by an Oneida runner that Arnold has swept
all before him ; Stanwix is safe ; St. Leger routed. Do
you understand? Everv man in Tryon County is
inarching on Burgoyne! You, too, will be on the way
towards headquarters within the hour!"
Trembling from weakness and excitement, I could
only look at him in silence.
" So all is well," he said, gravely, holding my hands
tighter. "Do you understand? All is well, Ormond.
. . . We struck McCraw at Schell's last night and tore
him to atoms. We punished the Senecas dreadfully.
333
THE MA1D-AT-ARMS
We have cleared the land of the Johnsons, the Buth
the McDonalds, and the Mohawks, and now we're t
centra ting on Burgoyne. Ormond, he is a doomed
man! He can never leave this land save as a pris-
on.
Ilis grip tightened ; a smile lighted his carev
as though a ray of pure sunshine had struck In
"Ormond," he said, "I have bred much
among us all, yet with the kindest motives in tlu world.
If honor and modesty forbids an explanation, at least
let me repair what I can. I have given your COUMH
Dorothy her freedom ; and now, before I go, I ask \
friendship. Nay, give me more gi v, Ormond !
Man, man, must I speak more plainly still? Mu
name the bravest maid in * u? Must I say
that the woman I love loves me Magdalen Brant?"
He laughed like a boy in his c "We
wed in Albany on Thursday! Think of it. man! I
showed her no I warrant >u, soon as I was
free'"
He colored vividly. "Nay, that's ungall.mt to our
Maid-at-Arms," he stammered. "I'm flustered
will pardon that She rides \\ith us to Albany I
mean Magdalen we wed at ray aunt's house "
The trumpet of the Legion was sounding persist-
ently ; the clatter of spurred boots filled the hallway;
Ruyven burst in, sabre hanging, and flung himself
into my arras.
" Good-bye! Good-bye!" he cried. " We are march-
ing with the left wing to Balston. Ill \ou,
when we take Burgoyne I'll write you all
about it and exactly how I conducted!"
I felt the parting clasp of their hands, but sc;i
saw them through the tears of .sheer weakness t
filled my eyes. The capacity for deep emotion was
deadened in me; the strain had been too great; the re-
334
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
action had left me scarcely capable of realizing the
instant portent of events.
The mellow trampling of horses came from below.
I hobbled to the window and looked down where the
troopers were riding in fours, falling in behind a train of
artillery which passed jolting and bumping along the
stockade.
A young girl, superbly mounted, came galloping
by, and behind her spurred Sir George Covert and
Ruyven. At full speed she turned her head and
looked up at my window, and I think I never saw such
radiant happiness in any woman's face as in Mag-
dalen Brant's when she swept past with a gesture of
adieu and swung her horse out into the road. A gen-
eral's escort and staff checked their horses to make
way for her. The officers lifted their black cockaded
hats; a slim, boyish officer, in a white-and-gold uni-
form, rode forward to receive her, with a low salute
that only a Frenchman could imitate.
So, escorted by prancing, clattering cavalry, and
surrounded by a brilliant staff, Magdalen Brant rode
away from Varicks'; and beside her, alert, upright,
transfigured, rode Sir George Covert, whose life she
had accepted only after she had paid her debt to
Dorothy by offering her own life to rescue mine.
Dim-eyed, I stared at the passing troops, the blurred
colors of their uniforms ever changing as the regiments
succeeded each other, now brown and red, now green
and red, now gray and yellow, as Massachusetts in-
fantry, New York line, and Morgan's Rifles poured
steadily by in unbroken columns.
Wrapped in my chamber-robe, head supported on
my hand, I sat by the window, dully content, striving
to think, to realize all that had befallen me. The
glitter of the passing rifles, the constantly changing
hues and colors, the movement, the noise, set my head
335
THE MATD-AT-ARMS
swimming. Yet I must prepare to leave within the
hour, for the stable bells were ringing for eight o'cl<-
Cato scratched at the door and entered, hni.
me hot water, and hovering around me with napkin,
salve, and basin, till my battered body had been bathed,
my face shaved, and my bruised head washed \\1
the Seneca castete had glanced, tearing the si
Clothed in fresh linen and a new uniform, sent by
Schuyler, I bade him call Sir Lupus ; who came pres-
ently, his mouth full of toast, a mug of cooled ale m
one hand, clay pipe in the other
He laid his pipe on the mantel, set his mug on a
chair, and embraced me, shaking his head in solemn
silence; and we sat for a space, considering one
other, while Cato filled my bowl with chocolate and re-
moved the cover from mv smoking porridu
"They beat all," said Sir Lupus, at length; "don't
they, George?"
" Do you mean our troops, sir?" I asked.
" No, sir, I don't. I mean our worn*
lit struck his fat leg with his jyalm, drew a long
breath, and regarded me, arms akimbo.
"M.: all stark, raving mad I Look at those
two chits of girls! The Legion had gone tearing off
after you to Schell's with an Oneida scout; Sir Ge<
pops in with his tale of your horrid plight, then i* Its
off to find his tror.pcrs and do what he could to save
i Gad, George! it looked bad for you. I I was
half out o' my senses, thinking of you; and what with
the children a-squalling and the household ni.shm-j up
stairs and down, and the militia marching to the gi
mill bridge, I did nothing. What the devil was I to
do?
ou did quite right, sir," I said, gravely.
lay back, staring at me, shoving his fat hands
into his breeches pockets.
336
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
"If I'd known what that baggage o' mine was bent
on, I'd ha' locked her in the cellar! . . . George, you
won't hold that against me, will you? She's my own
daughter. But the hussy was gone with Magdalen
Brant before I dreamed of it gone on the maddest
moonlight quest that mortal ever dared conceive! one
in rags cut from a red blanket, t'other in that rotten
old armor that your aunt thought fit to ship from
England when her father stripped the house to cross
an ocean and build in the forests of a new world.
George, she's all Orinond, that girl o' mine. A Varick
would never have thought to cut such a caper, I tell
you. It isn't in our line; it isn't in Dutch blood to
imagine such things, or do 'em either 1"
He seized pipe and mug, swearing under his breath.
"It was the bravest thing I ever knew," I said,
huskily.
He dipped his nose into his mug, pulled at his long
pipe, and eyed me askance.
"What the devil's this between you and Dorothy?"
he growled.
"Nothing, I trust now, sir," I answered, in a low
voice.
"Oh! 'nothing, you trust now, sir!' " he mimicked,
striving to turn a sour face. "Dammy, d' ye know
that I meant her for Sir George Covert?" His broad
face softened ; he attempted to scowl, and failed utterly.
"Thank God, the land's clear of these bandits of St.
Leger, anyhow!" he snorted. "I'll work my mills and
I'll scrape enough to pay my debts. I suppose I'll
have you on my hands when you've finished with
Burgoyne."
"No," I said, smiling, "the blow that Arnold struck
at Stanwix will be felt from Maine to the Florida Keys.
The blow to be delivered twenty miles north of us will
settle any questions of land confiscation. No, Sir
337
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
Lupus, I shall not be on your hands, but ... you may
be on mine if you turn Tory I"
"You impudent rogue!" he cried, struggling to his
feet; then, still clutching pipe and pewter, he embraced
me, and choked and chuckled, laying his fat 1
my shoulder. "Be a son to me, George," he whim-
pered, sentimentally; "if you won't, you're a damned
ungrateful pup I"
And he took himself off, sniffing, and sucking at Ins
long clay, which had gone out.
.rned to the window, drawing in deep breaths of
sweet, pure morning air. Troops were still pn
in solid column, grim, dirty soldiers in heavy cowhide
knapsacks, leather gaiters, and blue great -coats I
toned back at the skirts ; and I heard the militia at the
quarters calling across the stable -yard that these
grimy battalions were some of Washington's veterans,
ried north from West Point by his ency to
stiffen the backbone of Lincoln's militia, who prowled,
growling and snarling, around Burgoyne's right flank
They were a gaunt, hard-eyed, firm-jawed 1< t , march-
ing with a peculiar cadence and swing which set all
their muskets and buckles glittering at one i
as though a thousand tin rs had been tin
to the light, then turned away. And, pat! pat I patter I
patter] patl went their single company drums, and
: drummers seemed to beat mechanical! v, uiti
waste of energy, yet with a dry, rattling precision t
I had never heard save in the < Ad days when the Br r
troops at New Smyrna or St Augustine marched
od-mornin', sorr," came a hearty and some-
what loud voice from below ; and I saw Murphy, K
son, and Mount, arm in .inn, swaggering past with
that saunter that none but a b<rn forest runner may
hope to imitate. They were not sober.
I spoke to them kindly, however, asking them if their
338
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
wants were fully supplied; and they acknowledged
with enthusiasm that they could desire nothing better
than Sir Lupus's buttery ale.
" Wisha, then, sorr," said Murphy, jerking his
thumb towards the sombre column passing, "thim
laads is the laads f 'r to twisht th' Dootch pigtails on
thim Hissians at Half -moon. They do be pigtails
on th' Dootch a fut long in the eel-skin. Faith, I saw
McCraw's scalp 'twas wan o' Harrod's men tuk it,
not I, sorr ! an' 'twas red an' ratty, wid nary a lock to
lift it, more shame to McCraw!"
Mount stood, balancing now on his heels, now on
his toes, inhaling and expelling his breath like a man
who has had more than a morning draught of cider.
He laid his head on one side, like an enormous bird,
and regarded me with a simper, as though lost in ad-
miration.
"Three cheers for the Colonel," he observed, thickly,
and took off his cap.
" 'Ray!" echoed Elerson, regarding the unsteadiness
of Mount's legs with an expression of wonder and pity.
I bade Mount saddle my mare and prepare to ac-
company me to headquarters. He saluted amiably;
presently they started across the yard for their quar-
ters, distributing morsels of wisdom and advice among
the militiamen, who stared at them with awe and point-
ed at their beaded shot - pouches, which were, alasl
adorned with fringes of coarse hair, dyed scarlet.
But Morgan must worry over that. I had other mat-
ters to stir me and set my pulses beating heavily as
I walked to the door, opened it, and looked out into the
hallway.
Children's voices came from the library below; I
rested my hand on the banisters, aiding my stiffened
limbs in the descent, and limped down the stairs.
Cecile spied me first. She was sitting on the porch
339
THE MAID -AT-ARMS
with a very, very youni; ensign of Half-moon militia^
' hinq- the passing troops; and she sprang (o her
feet and threw her arms about my neck, kissing me
again and again, a proceeding viewed with concern
by the very young ensign of Half-moon militia.
"You darling!" she wl Dorothy's in tlu*
library with father and the children. Ix?an on me, you
poor boy ! How you have suffered ! And to thi n k t h, 1 1
i loved her all the time' Ah!" she whispered, sen-
timentally, pressing my arm, "how rare is con
How adorable it must be to be adored!"
There was a rush of children as we entered, and
Cecile cried, " You little beasts, have you no man IK
But they were clinging to me, limb and body, and I
stood there, caressing them, eyes fixed on my cousin
Dorothy, who had risen from her eh
She was very pale and quiet, and the hand she left
mine seemed lifeless as I bent to I Jut. upon
the bridal finger, I saw the ghost-ring, a thin, rosy
band, and 1 thrilled from head to foot with happiness
unspeakable.
"Get him a Harry!" said Sir Lupus. "Sit
down, George; and what shall it be, my boy, <
mulled or spiced to cheer you on your joum
as the G lencoe brawlers ha \ e it, \\ 1 i i
poon
I sank into my chair, saying I desired nothing ; and
my eyes never left Dorothy, who sat with golden head
bent, folding and refolding the ruffled corner of her
apron, raising her lovely eyes at moments to look
across at me.
The morning had turned raw and chilly; a log-fire
crackled on the hearth, where Benny had set a row of
early harvest apples to sizzle and steam and perfume
the air, the while Dorothy heard Harry, Sammy, and
Benny read their morning lessons, so that they might
340
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
hurry away to watch the passing army of their pet
hero, Gates.
"Come/' cried the patroon, "read your lessons and
get out, you young dunces! Now, Sammy I"
Dorothy looked at me and took up her book.
"If Amos gives Joseph sixteen apples, and Joseph
gives Amanda two times one half of one half of the
apples, how many will Amanda have?" demanded
Samuel, with labored breath. "And the true answer
to that is six."
Dorothy nodded and stole a glance at me.
"That doesn't sound quite right to me," said Sir
Lupus, wrinkling his brows and counting on his fin-
gers. " Is that the answer, Dorothy?"
"I don't know," vshe murmured, eyes fixed on me.
Sir Lupus glared at Dorothy, then at me. Then he
stuffed his pipe full of tobacco and sat in grim silence
while Benny repeated:
"Theven timeth theven ith theventy-theven ; theven
timeth eight ith thixty-thix." While Dorothy nodded
absently and plaited the edges of her lace apron, and
looked at me under lowered lashes. And Benny lisped
on: "Theven timeth nine ith theventy-thix ; theven "
" Stop that nonsense!" burst out Sir Lupus. " Take
'em away, Cecile! Take 'em out o' my sight!"
The children, only too delighted to escape, rushed
forth with whoops and hoots, demanding to be shown
their hero, General Gates. Sir Lupus looked after
them sardonically.
"We're a race o' glory -mongers these days/' he
said. "Gad, I never thought to see offspring o' mine
chasing the drums! Look at 'em now! Ruyven
hunting about Tryon County for a Hessian to knock
him in the head; Cecile sitting in rapture with every
cornet or ensign who'll notice her; the children yelling
for Lafayette and Washington; Dorothy, here, play-
341
THE MAID-AT-ARMS
at Donna Quixote, and you starting for Stillwater
to teach that fool, Gates, how to catch Burgoyne. Set
an ass to catch an ass eh, George? "
He stopped, his small eyes twinkling with a softer
light
" I suppose you want me to go," he said.
We did not rej>l
"Oh, I'm going," he added, fretfully "I'm no com-
pany for a pair o' heroes, a colonel, and "
"Touching the colonelcy," I said, " I want to make it
plain that I shall refuse the promotion. I did nothing;
the confederacy was split by Magdalen Brant, not by
im 1 did nothing at Oriskany ; I cannot underst
how General Schuyler should think me deserving of
such promotion. And I am ashamed to take it when
such men as Arnold are passed over, and such men as
Schuyler are slighted"
"Folderoll What the devil's this?" bawled Sir Lu-
Do you think you know more than your
perior officers hey re a colonel, George. Let
well li alone, for if you make a donkey of your-
self, thrv'll make you a major-general!"
With a spasmodic effort he got on his feet, seized
glass and pipe, and waddled out of the room, slam-
^ the door behind him.
In the ringing silence a charred log broke and fell in
a shower of sparks, tincturing the air with the perfume
weet birch smoke.
I rose from my chair. Dorothy rose, too, trembling.
A si hyness seemed to hold us apart She stood
tlu >rced smile stamped on her lips, watch
UK with the fascination of fear; and I steadied my
on the arm of my chair, looking deep into her eyes,
seeking to recognize in her the child I had knov.
I IK child had gone, and in her place stood tl
lovely, silent stranger, with all the mystery of womar>
342
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
hood in her eyes that sweet light, exquisitely pro-
phetic, divinely sad.
"Dorothy," I said, under ray breath. "All that is
brave and adorable in you, I love and worship. You
have risen so far above me and I am so weak and
and broken, and unworthy "
"I love you," she faltered, her lips scarcely mov-
ing. Then the color surged over brow and throat;
she laid her hands on her hot cheeks ; I took her in my
arms, holding her imprisoned. At my touch the color
faded from her face, leaving it white as a flower.
"I fear you maid spiritual, maid militant Maid-
at-Arms!" I stammered.
"And I fear you," she murmured, looking at me.
"What lover does the whole world hold like you?
What hero can compare with you? And who am I
that I should take you away from the whole world?
Sweetheart, I am afraid."
"Then fear no more," I whispered, and bent my
head. She raised her pale face; her arms crept up
around my neck and tightened, clinging closer as her
closing lips met mine.
There came a tapping at the door, a shuffle of felt-
shod feet
" Mars' Gawge, suh, yo' hoss done saddle', suh."
THE END
UNIVERSITY 01 CAi.irORMV IIBRVKY
BERKI I I \
Return to desk from which borrov
This hook is DUE on ilu I.IM il.nr i. imped bt
53 u
J 8
INTER-LIBRARY
LOAN X
' w/ ^/VA^'
f
YB 73604
912822
THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY