FOEAYEES; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE RAID OF THE DOG-DAYS, 
 
 BY W..GILMOKE SIMMS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE PARTISAN," "MELLICHAMPE," "KATHARINE WALTON, 
 "THE SCOUT," "WOODCRAFT," "THE YEMASSEE," "GUY RIVERS," ETC. 
 
 CONST. Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh ! 
 DAUPHIN. Mount them, and make incision in their hides, 
 
 That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, 
 
 And daunt them with superfluous courage. 
 
 KING HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 CMfion, 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & 
 
 407-425 DEARBORN STREET 
 1890 
 
DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY 
 
 PRINTERS AND BINDERS, 
 CHICAGO. 
 
y-BRAllx? 
 
 : VERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 ^LIFORJ^: 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 HISTORICAL SUMMARY. 
 
 THE reader who has done me the honor to kaep progress wi,b 
 me in the several journeys which I have made into the some 
 what obscure regions of our historical romance who has, in 
 brief, read my novels, the." Partisan," " Mellichampe," "Kath 
 arine Walton," and " The Scout," will remember that I have 
 endeavored to maintain a proper liiptor vil connection among 
 these stories, corresponding with the several transitional periods 
 of the Revolutionary war in South Carolina. While the " Par 
 tisan" opened the drama with the fall of Charleston, the " Scout" 
 closed with the siege of " Ninety-Six ;" an event which, though 
 it left the victory in the hands of the British, left them, at the 
 same time, in a condition of such feebleness, as to render their 
 temporary triumph of little value to their fortunes. The post 
 was abandoned as soon as rescued from the besiegers, and Lore 
 E-awdon, apprehensive of dangers which were sufficiently appa 
 rent upon the horizon to every veteran eye, took up his line of 
 march, with all possible expedition, for the Low Country, and 
 the securities of the seaboard. 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The " Partisan" closed with the melancholy defeat of the fiist 
 southern continental army under Gates, at Camden. "Melli- 
 champe" illustrated the interval between this event and the arrival 
 of Greene, with the rude material for the organization of a second 
 army ; and was more particularly intended to do honor to the 
 resolute and hardy patriotism of the scattered bands of patriots 
 who still maintained a predatory warfare against the foe among 
 the swamps and thickets, rather keeping alive the spirit of the 
 country, than operating decisively for its rescue. " The Scout," 
 originally published under the name of " The Kinsmen," occu 
 pied a third period, when the wary policy of Greene began to 
 make itself felt, in the gradual isolation and overthrow of the 
 detached posts and fortresses which the enemy had established 
 with the view to overawe the people in the leading precincts 
 of the state ; while " Katharine Walton," closing the career of 
 certain parties, introduced to the reader by the " Partisan," and 
 making complete the trilogy begun in that work, was designed 
 to show the fluctuations of the contest, the spirit with which it 
 was carried on, and to embody certain events of great individual 
 interest, connected with the fortunes of persons not less distin 
 guished by their individual worth of character, and their influ 
 ence upon the general history, than by the romantic circum 
 stances growing out of their career. 
 
 This narrative brought down the record to a period, when, 
 for the first time, the British were made to understand that the 
 conflict was doubtful ; that their conquests were insecure, and 
 that, so far from extending their arms over the interior, it be 
 came a question with them whether they should be able t 
 maintain their hold upon the strong places of which they h- 
 so long held possession. Their country-posts had mostly fallen 
 into the hands of the partisans, and such as remained were mo 
 mently threatened with like fortune. To maintain themselves 
 m Charleston and Savannah, the necessity was pressing that 
 they should contract their powers, and concentrate their forces 
 
HISTORICAL SUMMARY. 5 
 
 Reinforcements from Europe were hardly to be expected. The 
 British empire was in a state of exhaustion, and the army of 
 the invader was now half made up of the provincial loyalists. 
 
 It is proposed, in the present story, to resume the historical 
 narrative at this period ; making it subordinate, however as 
 has Leon the plan of the preceding volumes to other events, 
 in which the writer will naturally seek to illustrate the social 
 condition of the country, under the influence of those strifes and 
 trials which give vivacity to ordinary circumstances, and mark 
 with deeper Imes, and stronger colors, and sterner tones, the 
 otherwise common progress of human hopes and fears, passions 
 and necessities. 
 
 The operations of the British in South Carolina, after the 
 abandonment of Ninety-Six, were contracted almost entirely 
 within that section of country, which is enclosed by the San- 
 tee, the Congaree, and Edisto rivers. They were wholly con 
 centrated in the alluvial regions, or what is called the Low 
 Country. Here, E-awdon proposed to keep his forces in hand, 
 ready for emergencies, and hoped, undertaking no enterprises, 
 to make a sufficient stand against the American troops. But, 
 even for this, it was soon found that his strength was inadequate, 
 and that Greene was confident enough to offer him battle on 
 the Edisto. With a melancholy instinct, warning him of humil 
 iating reverses, Lord Rawdon anticipated the mortification of 
 final defeat, by yielding the command of the army to Colonel 
 Stewart, retiring himself, after a brief pause at Orangeburg, to 
 the walls of Charleston, where, he lingered only long enough 
 to stain his good name by the sanguinary execution of Hayne, 
 and then departed for Europe. 
 
 One single farther statement will suffice to put the reader in 
 possession of the relative position of the opposing forces. The 
 numerical strength of Greene and Stewart was nearly equal, 
 Apart from the garrison at Charleston, and a detachment undei 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Colonel Stewart may liave numbered from fifteen hundred to 
 two thousand men ; that of Greene was fully "the latter num 
 ber, but mostly composed of militia. But, though Greene lacked 
 in regular infantry, he was more than a match for his opponent 
 in cavalry. In this respect, he was well served. There was 
 no better cavalry in the world, and it grew more numerous 
 every day, by accessions from the country gentry. 
 
 It will be seen from this statement, that Greene, though not 
 unwilling to fight, was yet in no condition to invite the combat 
 except on his own terms. For this, Rawdon and Stewart were 
 equally unwilling. Strongly posted as they were in Orange- 
 burg, it would have been madness in Greene to have forced the 
 trial of strength upon them, and Stewart, left suddenly in com- 
 mand, felt too heavily the weight of responsibility upon him, to 
 undertake any bold adventure. There were reasons for his 
 forbearance, other than his own sense of responsibility, which 
 sufficiently excused his apathy. But these reasons will properly 
 find development in the course of our story. It is then under 
 stood that our narrative openajit the moment when Rawdon is 
 preparing to yield the care of the army to the charge of his 
 lieutenant, at the moment when, approaching Orangeburg as a 
 post of rest, after the retreat from Ninety-Six, after the Aban 
 donment and destruction of Camden, after the loss of almost all 
 of their posts in the interior, the British, after an exhausting 
 march, weary and desponding, are seeking to snatch a momen 
 tary rest from fatigue and danger not willing to seek theii 
 foes, and scarcely able to cover themselves from pursuit. They 
 were soon to be strengthened by a body of thirteen hundred men 
 chiefly loyalists, under the command of Cruger, late command 
 ant at the post of Ninety-Six ; but of his approach, as yet, they 
 knew but little, and had every reason to apprehend that he 
 might be cut off, burdened as was his train by clc ids of fugitive 
 tories, with their families, from the upper country, and followed 
 closely by Pickens, one of the most famous partisans of Carolina 
 
HISTORICAL SUMMARY. 7 
 
 Nothing, indeed, saved them but the exhausted condition of 
 Pickens s cavalry, which, to use his own language, " could nei 
 ther get up with the enemy, nor get away from him." To ex 
 cuse the lack of enterprise in both armies, it is only necessary 
 to add that hunger and nakedness were at work among them. 
 Provisions could not be procured on any terms. The country 
 was exhausted ; and very cheerfully would both parties have 
 taken the field for food, when they would have hesitated to 
 do so for more noble considerations. 
 
 But we may safely leave it to the novelist to pursue the nar 
 rative in place of the historian. Enough has been shown of 
 the chronicle to place the reader in full possession of the relative 
 strength and condition of the contending forces. The Ameri 
 cans are gaining confidence with every moment of pause ; the 
 British, gathering themselves up for the last struggle, prior to 
 their expulsion from a region, of which, for a long season, 
 they had enjoyed the pleasant fruits. Suspense, anxiety and 
 apprehension, like so many heavy clouds, to say nothing of a 
 long and scorching summer, hung over the fortunes of the con 
 tending armies, and seemed to paralyze their energies. 
 
 But the partisans have their work to do in spite of these dis 
 couraging influences. They were allowed no such respite as 
 was accorded to the regular army, and throughout the whole 
 exhausting period of summer, their cavalry was kept in motion 
 startling the British with incessant alarms ; hovering about their 
 posts, snatching up their convoys, and occasionally cutting off 
 their detachments. In this sort of work, we find all our great 
 captains of partisans equally engaged, Marion, Sumter, Pickens, 
 Lee, Maham, Harden, the two Hamptons, Horry, Taylor, and 
 many others. By these, even under the blazing heats of July 
 and August, the country was literally swept, . as with a fiery 
 besom, through all that region the boundaries of which have 
 already been described. This was the famous campaign of 
 " The .Dog-Days," a season proverbial for the wonderful eiidu- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ranee and audacity of the partisans, when the regular troops 
 of neither army could make a day s march, without the loss oi 
 numbers perishing from the heat. In the retreat of Rawdou 
 from Ninety-Six, more than fifty soldiers dropped dead upon 
 the march; and subsequently but we must not anticipate. 
 We have already trespassed somewhat, in these slight glance? 
 at the province which we propose to assign to our story. 
 
THE FORAYER8 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 BEAM S CABIN IN THE SWAMP. 
 
 THE district of Orangeburg, in South Carolina, constitutes 
 one of the second tier (from the seaboard) of the political and 
 judicial divisions or districts of that state. It is a vast plain, 
 with a surface almost unbroken, in the southern and western 
 portions, by elevations of any sort. In this region, it is irri 
 gated by numerous watercourses, rivers, and creeks, that make 
 their way through swamps of more or less width and density. 
 These are all thickly covered with a wild and tangled forest- 
 growth, skirted with great pines, and dwarf-oaks, to say noth 
 ing of a vast variety of shrub-trees; the foliage of which, 
 massed together by gadding vines, usually presents, in mid 
 summer, the appearance of a solid wall, impervious to sight and 
 footstep. 
 
 The precinct received its first European settlers in 1704. 
 These, originally the subjects of the prince of Orange, natural 
 ly conferred his name upon the district. But the settlements 
 were not confined to this people. Along the Santee, the Con- 
 garee, and Edisto, there were Huguenot and English families, 
 that came in afterward ; and, occasionally, a small group of 
 Scotch, and protestant Irish, might be found, occupying tracts 
 which were comparatively isolated from all others. 
 
 These several settlements maintained each its original nation 
 al characteristics ; and, even at the opening of the Revolution, 
 there had been little or no amalgamation among them. They 
 
 1* 
 
10 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 noenei 
 
 did not even associate; and the only cementing agency which 
 they acknowledged, bringing the several parties into social re- 
 lation, grew gradually, in the growth of a native population 
 The children of all parties spoke the English language, and 
 this proved a bond of union, in the absence of other ties, of a 
 slrerigth sufficient to neutralize, in a great degree, the original 
 antipathies of the parent stocks. 
 
 -S ear the creeks and rivers, the settlements were, naturally, 
 most numerous ; and, speaking with regard to the standard ac 
 knowledged among the people, these watercourses were com 
 paratively thickly inhabited. Along the Santee, for example, 
 1 the two great lines of thoroughfare from Charleston to the 
 farces, the sound of a horn, in times of danger, could bring 
 t, almost anywhere, a score of mounted men ; though we need 
 inform our readers, in respect to a region so lacking in 
 eity during the revolutionary period that the same 
 would be just as apt to find them divided very equally 
 ii .to opposing parties. The French, or Huguenot settlements, 
 would be sure to wear whig colors; so also the Irish; the 
 Scotch and English were mostly dogged loyalists; while the 
 German population were nearly equally divided in sentiment 
 bof ween the colony and the crown. 
 
 Of the native born, a vast majority were patriots, particular 
 ly the younger men; and these, necessarily brought together 
 from all the settlements, blended the otherwise adverse nation 
 al sentiments of the original stocks, into that rare sort of union, 
 which Anacreon Moore rather fancifully describes as the " one 
 arch of peace." To this mingling of their young, was due, in 
 some degree, the occasional forbearance of the parents ; many 
 of whom, on both sides, took parole or protection, and forebore 
 the field ; as much because of the committal of their sons, as be 
 cause of any selfish apprehensions of their own. 
 
 There was still a fair proportion, however, who felt, or ac 
 knowledged, none of these restraints ; and who, whether from 
 a natural and earnest sentiment of loyalty, or because of their 
 full faith in the powers of the German sovereign on the throne 
 of Britain, to coerce his rebellious subjects into obedience, 
 joined the banner of the king as soon as it was unfurled, and 
 proved themselves as fierce and unsparing, as if they dealt only 
 
BEAM S CABIN IN THE SWAMP. 11 
 
 with their natural enemies. It is not our purpose here to indi 
 cate the various causes which led the people to choose opposi 
 tion on either side ; hut, we may add, that, as in all such cases, 
 there were baser motives also at work ; there were private 
 feuds to avenge, hot rivalries to assuage, and plunder to he won. 
 It may he that the progress of our history will unfold all of 
 these motives in turn. 
 
 There is a small watercourse, buried in swamp and thickly 
 fringed with a natural arid noble forest-growth, which, rising at 
 nearly equal distances between the Santee and the Edisto, finds 
 its way at last into the latter river. This stream goes still by 
 the old rustic title of the Four-Holes swamp. In the times of 
 which we write, it was one of the places of refuge for the out 
 lying patriot. The settlements along its upland margin were 
 infrequent ; and, though skirted by one of the common thor 
 oughfares of the county, the region was of too suspicious a 
 character to suffer the traveller to linger as he rode. There 
 was nothing to woo the lover of the picturesque in the prospect 
 around him, and curiosity had but little motive to pierce the 
 dark and silent recesses of those thickets which seemed impene 
 trable from without ; and the mysterious stillness and obscurity 
 of which, were well calculated to arm the instincts of the way 
 farer with a tremulous sense of danger. He rarely suffered 
 himself or his steed to pause and bait as he sped over the route, 
 so long as the gloomy shadows of this great thicket were cast 
 upon his path. 
 
 It is to this very region, however, that we propose to conduct 
 the reader now. We shall penetrate the silent and shadowy 
 fortress of swamp and forest, following a footpath which you 
 would scarcely discover for yourself; the traces of which, from 
 without, are quite undiscernible by the uninitiated. We enter 
 a creek, breaking boldly through a fence of willows. Our steeds 
 leave no track in the water. We follow the stream for fifty 
 yards, and knee-deep in the swamp we are surrounded by a 
 wood of cypresses. Before us another fortress of forest spreads 
 away, thick and matted. We press boldly up against it, and a 
 faint gleam of light appears, as shining through a crevice, or 
 our left. We descend, following this gleam. It opens suffi 
 ciently to admit of our passage through a copse of cane and 
 
:2 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 willows over which hang great branches of gum and tupola 
 We pass a hammock, thickly covered with woods. And still 
 our way lies through water. The path grows sinuous and would 
 be lost, but for certain marks upon the branches of the trees 
 under which we are required to move. You would not see 
 these marks. No one could see them, were they not shown . 
 or decipher their mystic uses, were they not explained. They 
 have been carefully made, not only to escape the casual 
 glance, but to shape, step by step, the course of him who has 
 been taught the cipher. The refuge has been often sought. It 
 has hitherto justified the hope of security which it promised. 
 The spot was long known and honored after the Revolution, as 
 " Bram Johnson s Castle." 
 
 But we have not reached " Brain s Castle" yet. There is 
 still a tract of wood and water to be passed. The refuge is one 
 designedly difficult of access, and even to him who knows the 
 indices by which to find it, the way is circuitous and the paths 
 difficult. But we will suppose these to be overcome. The re 
 gion has been laid bare since the war, and many have been the 
 curious spectators whom the familiar scout has conducted to the 
 curious hiding-place of the patriots. Let us penetrate at once 
 to the recess, supposing the difficult progress to be overcome, 
 and emerging suddenly from the thicket and swamp, upon a 
 hammock, an islet of the swamp, covered with mighty trees, 
 pine and beech, a sandy cpot, high, dry, and sheltered, as if a 
 retreat for the Genius Loci, whom we will suppose a bearded 
 Druid, brooding in silence Avhile he grows to stone, and the 
 gray moss winds about him, a natural shroud for the High 
 Priest of a perished people. 
 
 It was on the afternoon of one o^ the hottest days of June 
 one of the hottest months in Cc- ,-olina in the year of gra% 
 one thousand seven hundred ai \i eighty-one, that a horseman 
 made his way along the route described, and penetrated to th-3 
 little swamp islet, or hammock, upon which the cabin of Bram 
 Johnson stood. The stranger was very certainly a military 
 man, though it would be difficult to describe his costume as a 
 military rmif. rm. He evidently belonged to the irregular ser- 
 7 ice Bis clothes Avere of a dark blue, and consisted of an 
 overall, or hunting -shirt, of linen or cotton material. His small 
 
BRAM S CABIN IN THE SWAMP. 13 
 
 clothes were of the same material, and leggins, o f blue also, 
 much after the Indian fashion, completed his outilt. The cap 
 which he wore was o: common fur, without feather. He carried 
 a broadsword at his side, and pistols, doubly shotted, filled his 
 holsters. His steed was a glorious black, without spot upon all 
 his body, one white star excepted, which was conspicuou. upon 
 his right fore shoulder. The rider was of vigorous buiid , not 
 so heavy as compact and symmetrical ; some five feet eleven 
 inches high, erect of carriage, and probably twenty-seven years 
 of age. He had a finely-formed oval face, well bronzed, cheeks 
 full, chin prominent, and eyes gray and searching .as the eagle s. 
 The forehead was broad, the head high, and the chestnut curls 
 escaped beneath his cap, and hung loose and long upon his 
 shoulder. Clearly, there was need for shears and razor, the 
 beard being quite as long and massive as the hair. 
 
 Our horseman had penetrated all the avenues leading to the 
 hammock of Bram Johnson, without disturbing any echoes. 
 He stopped his steed when about to emerge upon the banks, 
 and alighted where he stood, fastening the animal to a swing 
 ing bough that hung above the creek. With his sabre in his 
 hand the rider quietly ascended the hammock, and made his 
 way forward, with the stride of one quite sure* of his ground, 
 and without apprehending interruption. He was clearly one 
 of those in possession of the "open sesame." lie passed quietly 
 but confidently among the great beeches, cypresses, and syca 
 mores, which covered the islet, until his eye caught glimpses of 
 a vein of smoke that rose from the cabin of Brain Johnson. 
 Tli en he paused for a moment, and, stealing from tree to tree, 
 as if suddenly counselled with the necessity of caution, he con 
 tinued to press forward, in ti;is stealthy manner, until the wig 
 wam of the negro stood full ir* sight before him. 
 
 It was a very sultry afterno.m, as we have said, on one of 
 die hottest days in our hottest month. The present season was, 
 if possible, far hotter than usual ; and, in that dense empire of 
 shrub and forest, where the winds could at no time penetrate 
 with vigour where they could not course or swoep, but only 
 trickle, as it were the atmosphere weigh od like a coppery 
 fluid upon the universal nature. The stranger had seusil y 
 
14 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 felt its pressure, and his movements had been slow accordingly 
 The perspiration streamed from his brows, and the blood 
 throbbed violently in the veins upon his forehead. But the 
 sight that met his eyes seemed to make him forgetful of his own 
 exhaustion. A smile curled his lips, and rested upon his noble 
 features, like a soft sunset upon a happy landscape. It was 
 evident that his was a lively nature, keenly susceptible of the 
 playful and the humorous. He paused, and the words rose 
 to his lips, as if spoken in the ears of a companion. 
 
 " Now, look at that rascally negro. There he sits, drowsing 
 in the sunset, mouth wide, and every sense steeped in forget- 
 fulness. An alligator might take him as he sleeps, and make 
 his first mouthful of him before he could open his eyes. Yet 
 is he set to watch and wait. He has gorged himself with ter 
 rapin and rice. He has probably had a fat possum for dinner ; 
 or, possibly, has contrived to pick up some luckless pig, stray 
 ing out of hearing of Holman s stye. He, at all events, will 
 contrive to feed and fatten though his master starves." 
 
 Thus saying, the stranger quietly drawing his sabre, smote 
 a hickory shoot from a neighboring tree, and thus armed he 
 approached the sleeping negro. Bram [Abram] was a portly 
 fellow, loosely clad, a white homespun shirt and duck trowsers 
 constituting his. only covering. The shirt was open at the breast, 
 displaying a broad massive trunk, like that of Hercules. The 
 sweat rolled down from his face and neck, or stood out upon 
 his skin in big bead-like drops that glistened like oil. His 
 deep breathing was like that of a young cayman, crying for 
 his supper. Never was being more happily unconscious of 
 what the morrow was to bring forth. A smart stroke of the 
 hickory over his shoulders suddenly enlightened him. A second 
 brought him to his feet, and fairly opened his eyes. Rubbing 
 his irritated shoulder with one hand, while he threw out the 
 other in defence, he cried 
 
 " Wha de debbil dat < who dat, I say, da hit maussa nigger 
 wid hick ry V 
 
 The stroke was repeated, and the fellow opened his eyes this 
 time to a full knowledge of the pe sou in whose presence he 
 stood. 
 
 " Ki ! Mass Willie, da you ?" 
 
15 
 
 " And this is the way, you rascal, that you watch the camp 
 when I am gone?" 
 
 " Psho, maussa, I bin see you all de time ! I know he bin 
 you from de fuss [first]." 
 
 " Then you must have a famous passion for hickory, you ras 
 cal, to receive three cuts of it before letting me know that you 
 were awake." 
 
 " Psho ! de hick ry aint hutt fhurtj." 
 
 " Ah ! will you try a little more of it ?" But the black re 
 treated, rubbing his shoulders afresh. 
 
 " Tank you, Mass Willie ; but scuse me, ef you please ; no 
 more dis time. Next time, maybe, I will tank you for anoder 
 tas e ftastej." 
 
 " You will get more than a taste, Bram, if I catch you anoth 
 er time, sleeping in broad daylight, when your business was 
 to keep close watch until Ballou came in. Suppose the tories 
 had found you out ?" 
 
 " Oh ! maussa, he bin so hot dis ebning, and I jis bin loss 
 myself wid sleep when you bin coming. I no bin quite sleep 
 neider, for I t ink I bin yerry de boss, and t ink I bin see some 
 body cross my eye jis when you come up on de hammock. I 
 don t t ink I bin loss myse f tall." 
 
 "Shut up, and don t lie to me, Bram! But this sort of 
 watching will never do ! Suppose it had been one of Car- 
 michael s tories instead of me ?" 
 
 " How tory guine fin he way yer, Mass Willie ?" 
 
 " How did we find our way here ?" 
 
 "Oh, we berry differen sort of people, maussa. We hab 
 sense, maussa. More dan dat, enty I know dem tory is all gone 
 up de country wid de red coats." 
 
 " But they are coming back as fast as possible, and some ot 
 them will no doubt arrive in Orangeburg to-night or to-morro v " 
 
 " Ki ! you say so, maussa ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, you rascal ; and if this is the way that you 
 watch when you are sent out, we shall have a round chance of 
 being taken, every mother s son of us, by Coffin s cavalry, or 
 Fisher s scouting parties." 
 
 " Wha cle use for you talk so, Mass Willie, when you knows 
 its onpossible. TImv dem poor little carrion hoss of Coffin guine 
 
16 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 run we down ? How dem dutty [dirty] nigger of Fisher guine 
 fin we out ? Enty I know lie can t come it, try he bes ; as for 
 dem cabalry of Coffin, he gone up free week ago. I shum [see 
 uni] when he pass t rough Orangebu g. He bin down, some of 
 dem, to young missis place, and bring off heap of corn and fod 
 der. I speck Pete Blodgit will tell you all bout it when you 
 axes inn; dat is, if he aint too big a rascal ; and I m jubous 
 bout he rascality dat same Pete." 
 
 " What do you know about it, Bram ?" 
 
 " He sell de cawn and fodder, maussa, to de redcoat. He git 
 de money for em." 
 
 <( I know that already. But did you learn how much he sold ? 
 
 " I bin watch close. He sell heap. De redcoat feed dere 
 t ree days ; den he carry off free, sebben, five, eleben wagon 
 loads of cawn and fodder all up to Orangebu g." 
 
 " No, nonsense, Bram. I know you don t love Pete Blodgit, 
 but that s no reason why you should lie about him. How many 
 wagon-loads were carried off?" 
 
 " I speck he hab seben or eleben, maussa, da s a trute." 
 
 " Seven or eleven !" 
 
 " Yes ; de cawn bin at de bottom, de fodder on top. I can t 
 tell how much, but Pete get money for em. I see de goul in 
 lift hand, more dan I kin count." 
 
 " That, too, I know; but can you guess how much ?" 
 
 " He hab he Jian full more dan full ! I see dat ! But I 
 can t count em, whay I bin hide !" 
 
 " Where did you hide to see all this t" 
 
 " Bury up in de fodder in de loff [loft]. I lay down wid my 
 mouth pon hole in de floor, an I bin look t rough de floor pon 
 Pete Blodgit and the o d ly sargen where him an Pete bin 
 down in the stable. He git he han full of goul giiinies ; dat I 
 know; and he hab han , maussa you ebber bin obzarb Pete 
 Blodgit han , mauss?. ! he hab hand like shubble [shovel] !" 
 
 " I believe you arc right, Bram, about the measure of his 
 hands, but " 
 
 "To be sure, I right ! He heb em like shubble, for true ; 
 and he kin shet he han on wha he git, maussa, I tell you. Ha ! 
 dat Pete Blodgit, maussa ; keep you eye pon em ! You guino 
 fin em out yit, some day He s a most dutty rascal ." 
 
17 
 
 " Hush, Bram : no more of that. I will keep my tye upon 
 both of you. And now, what of Ballon ? Has he been drink 
 ing again ?" 
 
 " He guine ebber lef off drink, maussa, so long as Jimma- 
 kor run ? Jim Ballon mus j drink if he hab Jimmaker. He 
 soak all day las Sunday." 
 
 "Was he sober the day when he went off?" 
 
 " 1 speck so ; but dere s no telling, maussa. He so usen to 
 drink, dat, drunk or sober, he hab he leg always." 
 
 " You were down at Holly-Dale, Bram, and saw Henry." 
 
 " Nebber see Mass Henry ; he bin gone somewhar . See 
 Miss Bertha. He [she] ax bout you, maussa ! Ha ! You bin 
 look pon em when he ax bout you, wid he eye look down, 
 and de red kibber [cover] all he face, you feel warm all bout 
 de heart. He s a most beautiful gal child, is Miss Bert a." 
 
 " Did you see the old gentleman ?" 
 
 Wha ! de cappin 1 Enty he cuss me, for d n bull-head 
 son ob a buffalo ! Look yer, Mass Willie, keep you eye sharj: 
 pon dat same ole Cappin Trabis. He hab heep o dealing wid 
 dem tory in de Fork. He eat dinner wid dem redcoat in de 
 garrison at Orangebu g. He git British guineas and high price 
 for ebbry t ing he kin sell in Orangebu g. You t ink he hab 
 good feeling for you, Mass Willie, cause you fadder and him 
 bin togedder in de ole Cherokee war ! you t ink he look kin 
 ? pon you when you gone to see Miss Bert a ? nebber blieb em ! 
 He s no better, I tell you, dan a d n tory." 
 
 " Silence, sir. No more of this." 
 
 " I can t silence, maussa ! Look you, enty I look pon em, 
 arm in arm, walking de piazza wid dat Dick Inglehardt. You 
 know Dick Inglehardt. Enty he tory to de backbone ? Well, 
 you know wha he go for when he gone to Holly-Dale ?" 
 
 The negro watched the effect of his information upon his 
 master s visage. He did not deceive himself in the conjecture 
 that what he said would make the other look grave. With a 
 subdued voice, the master inquired : 
 
 " Was Richard Inglehardt at Holly-Dale when you were 
 there the other day ?" 
 
 " To be show [sure] he bin day ! Big as a gineral, walking 
 up and down de piazza, as who but he !" 
 
18 THE rO 
 
 Did he se you, Bram ?" 
 
 "Catch me at dat, Mai Willie! Oh; no, whori 1 ehuin, 1 
 back into de hush. I knew hery well, ef he. see Bram, h*j say 
 to hesef Bram maussa no fur off. Ht, bin day heap o times 
 lately, i speck. I shum riding out from Orangebu g wid de ole 
 cappin. Bote of dem hab shot in de eye." 
 
 "What! drunk?" 
 
 " Jis dat, and not ing else ; but twas arter dinner, Mauss*. 
 close on to sundown, and when a genpleman has a sawt o riglr 1 ,- 
 you know, to onsettle his standing wid a sawt o sentiment." 
 
 " You are getting equally elegant in your modes of thought 
 and speech, Abram ; and if you would only drop your habit of 
 swearing, there s no telling the degree of elegance to which you 
 might arrive. But let us look into your cabin. I want my 
 homespun." 
 
 " Wha ! you guine a sguising yourself agin, Mass Willie. I 
 speck you guine right off now to Hollydale. You mus look 
 sharp bout you ef you guine dere." 
 
 " No matter where I go, Bram ; it is not exactly my cue to 
 let you know all my movements." 
 
 "Ha ! you better ! you better tek [take] me wid you. You 
 git in trouble some day, when Bram aint close by to help you 
 out o de ditch. Dem tory will sure for fin you out, some day, 
 t rough all dat sguising; and taint yaller homspun, and coon- 
 skin cap, and bushy wig and whisker wha guine hide you from 
 em, when you stan up so straight in your mocksens, and show 
 sich leg as dat t rough your leggins." 
 
 " You are a cunning rascal, Bram," replied the other with a 
 smile, laying his hand upon the negro s shoulder kindly as he 
 spoke, while the latter applied his key to the padlock. The 
 door of the cabin was open, and the two went in together. 
 
 When, after a space, the master reappeared from the cabin, 
 he was completely disguised in the rude, simple garments 01 
 the poorest sort of countrymen. He had, besides, taken the 
 precaution to stain his face and hands, with a thin decoction of 
 some native roots from the woods, so that the fair white and 
 red of his complexion were hidden in a gipsy sort of bronze, 
 7/hich, to any but a very close examination, would seem natural 
 enough. 
 
BRAM B CABIN LN TTJR, SWAMP. 1^ 
 
 We do no 2 ajp to report the i\ir\cr di*!ogr.G between tho 
 parties. It nil 1 roi concern our .rarrative. The master ex- 
 tendocl his hand. 
 
 "And now, Bram, I must leave you. I must ride to Pete 
 Blodgit s to-night. Take care of yourself, and do not leave 
 the cabin on any account till Ballou returns. One or other 
 of you must be here always. I have dropped a letter in the 
 hollow for Colonel Singleton. Should he come while you arc 
 icre, or any of his officers, say to him, or them, that the Great 
 ,>mfalo means to lie down for awhile, and rest upon the hills." 
 " De high hills, Mass Willie." 
 
 Ay, ay, the high hills of Santee ; and say further, that the 
 l/aijiecpek wants them to hear his crow, and join him for a 
 u-reat flight below." 
 
 I comperhends, maussa, I knows. De Gamecock" 
 I only wish you to repeat what I say, Bram it is not 
 necessary that you should comprehend it. If you have one 
 fault, Brain, more than another, which I could wish you to 
 correct, it is that of being a little too wise for your master." 
 
 " Oh ! psho, Mass Willie. Git out ! Don t be a poking fun 
 wid a sharp finger at you nigger. But, one ting, Mass Willie. 
 I yer say day hab mak you promoted. You s a ginneral now, 
 or somet ing or udder like it." 
 
 " Only a major, Bram ; only a major !" 
 "But dat s de nex ting, or mighty close on to a ginneral, 
 I m a finking." 
 
 " Good-bye, Bram !" offering his hand. 
 
 "God bless you, Mass Willie; God for ebber bless you, and 
 sen you safe, wid a -warm spur, trough de berry camp ob de 
 enemy." 
 
 " The prayer may be more reasonable than you dream of, 
 old fellow. Good-bye, Bram." 
 
 He shook the negro s hand affectionately and departed as ho 
 came. Bram followed him to the edge of the hammock, am] 
 when he had gone from sight buried in the thick woods in 
 -and when his horse s tread could be heard no longer, the 
 faithful slave murmured, with half a sigh, a tear glistening in 
 his eye as he turned back to his cabin : 
 
 " God bress he heart ! God brcss he heart ! I lub em like 
 
20 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 my own chile. But I always fear d when I shum go off widou? 
 Bram. I knows wha he is, for running he hoss mong dem 
 tory. He aint fear d of dem tory no more dan I fear d of 
 grasshopper. Le [let] any of dem speak to him wid sassy 
 tongue, and how he will smash he teet . Ha ! I member dat 
 scrimmage by M Code ferry ; den de one down by Lenud s ; 
 den up ag in in Lynch s ; I yer de ole Gamecock say, hese f, 
 dat Willie Sinclair is all h-11 for a charge ! I so wish I bin 
 wid em." 
 
 But we will leave the slave to his meditations, while we fol 
 low the footsteps of his master, whose present occupation, we 
 may whisper in the reader s ear, contemplates equally his own 
 and the affairs of the partisan cavalry under the command of 
 Marion. 
 
WHEL* AND DAM. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHELV AND DAM. 
 
 OUR peopU are hard riders, and a night canter through the 
 forest is no held to be a very perilous or unpleasant necessity. 
 It was with no concern that our horseman found the night set 
 tling down upon him as soon as he left the swamp. Nor did it 
 occasion much concern that the darkness was coming on in 
 cloud, and with a threat of storm. He looked up at the gloomy 
 masses gatliering in the south, without disquiet ; and very 
 slightly increased the speed of his charger by a slight shake of 
 the bridle in his grasp. 
 
 We need not describe his ride, which was continued for some 
 hours, his steed being alloAved to vary his paces at times, and 
 to subside finally, from a canter, into a good travelling trot. 
 
 His course lay across the country in the direction of the San- 
 tee. By nine o clock he reached a ruined homestead a tol 
 erably ancient manor seat where, by daylight, the traveller 
 might readily perceive the proofs of former state and wealth. 
 A great entrance, or carriage-way, of brick columns, still re 
 mained, opening upon a noble avenue of oaks. But the fences 
 and gates were gone. Our horseman penetrated the avenue, 
 which conducted to the site of what had been a noble mansion. 
 It was now in ruins. The flames had done their work fully 
 upon the edifice, which had been built of black cypress, upon a 
 foundation of brick, raised some ten feet above the ground. 
 The foundation and the chimneys alone remained. The ruin 
 had been the work of tory hands, one of the thousand proofs, 
 which the country everywhere afforded, of the terrible civil war 
 which had now, for some years, prevailed in Carolina. 
 
 Our traveller sighed unconsciously as he passed the ruins 
 which he could but imperfectly discern in the dim light of a 
 few melancholy stars which shone out still among the imper- 
 
22 T1IK FOHAYEKS. 
 
 feet cloud-drifts. His memory fully recalled the bitter pang 
 which followed his first knowledge of the fate of the ancient 
 homestead. The tall chimneys stood up against the sky, in the 
 open area, like so many gloomy memorials of a tragic history 
 silent, but full of speech to his affections, But he rode on with 
 out pausing ; his pace, indeed, a little accelerated, as if he aimed 
 to lose the sight of objects which only brought him troubling 
 thoughts. He passed through a ravaged garden in the rear ; 
 entered a wood which had been a pretty sylvan haunt of his 
 youth ; in the recesses of which he suddenly came upon a log- 
 house, through the chinks of which a faint light now reached 
 his eyes. 
 
 As he beheld it through the trees, he drew up his steed, 
 alighted, and having fastened the reins to the first shrub-tree, he 
 stole cautiously to the cottage entrance, and peeped silently 
 through one of its several crevices. As if satisfied, by his survey, 
 that he might proceed more boldly, he smote the door thrice with 
 his sabre hilt. His voice seconded this application, and, after a 
 brief delay, in which he exhibited more impatience than at any 
 time during his whole ride, the door was opened to him. He 
 had reached the place of shelter not a moment too soon. Big 
 drops of rain were now beginning to ooze out from the trailing 
 clouds above. 
 
 The salutation of the cottager who came to the door in a 
 partial undress, and bearing in his hand an inch of tallow can 
 dle, " dipt" such as the poorer sort of people commonly used 
 whenever they were ambitious beyond the light-wood torch 
 would seem to show that the new-comer had been expected. 
 
 "Well, major, I had a most given you up. It s pretty late, I 
 reckon. I d a sort o guess that you d a been here last night ; 
 and I sot up for you till the biggest part of the night was gone. 
 And when you didn t come, all day, I was jubous something 
 had happened. All s well, I reckon ?" 
 
 " Quite, Blodgit ; quite as well as it can be at present. Still, 
 we may hope that it may be better. But of this hereafter. 
 Now, my good fellow, let us find a cover for my horse. How s 
 the corn and fodder ?" 
 
 " Oh ! enough, sir, and to spare a friend." 
 
 " And an enemy, too, upon occasion, Blodgit." 
 
WHELP AND DAM. 23 
 
 " How, sir, an inimy !" 
 " Love your enemies, you know !" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, sir ; that s true ; that s in the good book, but 
 taint quite the law mong sodgers, I m thinking. Sodgers, 
 Major" 
 
 " No matter now, about the soldiers, Blodgit ; let us see to 
 the horse." And the stranger moved from the cabin to where 
 the beast was fastened. 
 
 " Never you mind him, major. Til see to him." 
 
 " Thank you, Blodgit, but I prefer to see to him myself. My 
 good Nimrod might reasonably be displeased with me if I 
 left him to the care of anybody but myself. Besides, it s a 
 habit with me now, and I should not eat my own supper, or 
 enjoy my own sleep, with any satisfaction, if I did not first see 
 that he was put properly in the way for getting his. Do you 
 lead the way to the stables, and shake down some fodder. No 
 more words about it." 
 
 The words of the speaker, uttered with the air of one accus 
 tomed to command, were decisive, and the two proceeded to 
 gether to the stables, which were pretty well shrouded in the 
 wood, some hundred yards in the rear of the cabin. Here, the 
 traveller stripped the animal of his furniture, and, in spite of 
 Blodgit s urgent oifers of service, rubbed him down himself. 
 
 " It s no wonder, major, that the beast loves you, and you re 
 sich a horseman as you are. It stands to reason that he should 
 love you, when you take sich care of him." 
 
 " Tumble in the fodder, Blodgit." 
 
 The latter obeyed. This done, the horseman added : 
 
 " We will let him munch on that for a while. In half an 
 hour, he must have thirty ears of corn. And now, a word in 
 your ear, Blodgit. Having seen to the horse, look a little to 
 his master, who, I can answer for it, has not had a bite since 
 sunrise." 
 
 " You don t say so, major ! Come along, sir, and we kin 
 find you some cold bread and bacon. Ef you d wait for it, 
 we might even run down a chicken." 
 
 " Let the chicken run, Blodgit. The bread and bacon will 
 answer every purpose." " 
 
 They emerged from the stables together, and pushed hurriedly 
 
24 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 for the cabin. The rain was now falling steadily. They had 
 scarcely entered the hut and closed the door, when it came 
 down in torrents ; while the winds, suddenly rising, roared over 
 the low, shingled roof, with the hoarse rush of the sea upon the 
 shore. The traveller looked up with satisfaction, rubbing his 
 hands as he spoke. 
 
 " I am fortunate in having saved my distance. How it 
 pours !" 
 
 A woman s voice from an inner room answered his self-con 
 gratulation. 
 
 " Don t mind the pouring, major, when you re in the dry." 
 
 "Ah ! old lady, are you still awake ?" responded the traveller. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, major ; old people don t sleep much ; pretick- 
 larly when they re 1 troubled with the rheumatiz." 
 
 " What ! still sick the old complaint 1 ?" 
 
 " Well, I m always a-coinplaining. Pains in all my bones, 
 preticklarly in wet weather. I kin hardly git about at all ; and 
 that s why I made Pete bring me down from the loft, for I 
 couldn t be going up and down them troublesome steps, you 
 know." 
 
 "To be sure you were right, old lady. In your infirm 
 condition that room is the proper place for you." 
 
 " So I told Pete. I m all over infirmities. I kin do nothing 
 hardly for myself now, and but one little negro gal to help me, 
 and she so contrary. There s no keeping her avake, do and 
 say what I will. You Jenny Jenny !" 
 
 And the old woman began to bawl for the negro, whose snores 
 were audible from the same chamber. 
 
 "Don t bother yourself about the gal," cried Blodgit. 
 " What do you want, mammy 1 Let me do it." 
 
 The son, who had been busy spreading the supper-table, now 
 proceeded to the apartment of the old woman. 
 
 " The physic bottle, Pete. It s in the cupboard." 
 
 " What ! you will take physic, old lady V asked the travel 
 ler, still speaking from the hall. 
 
 " What kin I do, major ? I must take something for these 
 pains, and this is a most famous physic. It cured old Betsy 
 Dollard in three weeks, and she was much worse off than ma 
 She had the rheumatiz, I don t know how many years." 
 
WHELP AND DAM. 25 
 
 " Well, I hope the stuff may cure you, old lady But I have 
 no faith in physic. It is quite enough to expect, if the patient 
 does not die of it." 
 
 " Ah ! major, you talk like a young man, as ef you was to be 
 young always. But wait till you git old like me, and then you ll 
 think there s nothing in the world like doctor s stuff." 
 
 "Heaven forefend!" exclaimed the traveller. "Commend 
 me to bacon and hominy, egg and chicken, bread and milk 
 any farmhouse physic in preference to that of the doctor s shop." 
 
 The* speaker, by this time, was slashing away at the fragment 
 of a flitch, which stood before him. 
 
 "Some of this bacon now,Mrs.Blodgit," he cried aloud. 
 
 " Ah ! ef I dared ! But twould be the death of me, at night 
 preticklarly." 
 
 " The life of you, rather," was the answer ; the speaker sha 
 ving off a second slice of the meat, and doing prompt execution 
 upon the corn hoecake at the same time. 
 
 " Bread and bacon," he continued, " work like magic upon 
 sick people. They have cured more desperate cases in one 
 year, than physic has cured in a century. Bacon is a great 
 medicine by itself. I ve known of a hundred cures which it 
 has made, taken internally ; nay, the very smell of the meat, 
 when it is warm, has a wonderful effect. There was one poor 
 fellow, I remember, who was left for dead on the field at Black- 
 stocks. We never dreamed of his having breath enough in him 
 to keep a snail alive, and looked to bury him with the rest, as 
 aooi F.S vve had finished dinner. But the moment the men be- 
 an to nnt, and the savor of the bacon reached his nostrils, he 
 revived, begged for a morsel only, and has been a well man ever 
 since. 1 don t know, indeed, but that he owes his escape from 
 all bullets from that day, to the fact that he always feeds folly 
 before he goes into battle. He keeps a thick streak of bacon be 
 tween ribs and skin, and it turns off the bullets." 
 
 "Lord presarve me! Is it possible, major 1 ?" 
 
 " Possible ! It is true, Mrs. Blodgit ; and known to every 
 trooper in Sumter s cavalry. The old Gamecock would have 
 a fellow up at the halberds, in short order, who ventured to dis 
 pute it. Try a morsel, old lady, and yo:rll feel your pains the 
 easier for it." 
 
26 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "Ef I thought so, major. But the doctoi says Doctor 
 Blumenburg, you know that, with my complaint, I should 
 eat a most nothing." 
 
 " And I say, that, with your complaint, it would be better 
 were you to swallow Blumenburg himself, than his drugs." 
 
 " Oh ! major, how kin you talk so ?" 
 
 " Does he tell you what your complaint is ?" 
 
 " No ! that s true ; he don t !" 
 
 "Well, I will ! Your complaint is physic!" 
 
 " Jest as I said, mother," put in Pete. " It s what I m al 
 ways a-telling her. I tells her that it s doctor s stuff and old 
 age, together." 
 
 " Old age, Pete Blodgit ! I wonder what you knows about 
 it ! Old age, indeed ! I m a young woman, major ! I d be 
 young and spry as anybody, if twan t for the rheumatiz. Old 
 age ! Oh ! Pete Blodgit, you re a most onnatural son for one 
 born in a Christian country. Would you b lieve it, major, but 
 I warn t but a child a ga l of sixteen when that ow-natural 
 cub was born ; and fo- him to turn upon his mother, just like a 
 heathen Philistine." 
 
 " Psho, mother, don t be foolish now !" 
 
 " Foolish ! You oughtn t to say a word to me, Pete Blodgit, 
 considering you didn t want to let me move my bed down 
 sta rs, though you know d well enough how I was suffering 
 up thar in the loft!" 
 
 The son answered surlily : 
 
 " There was no need for you to come down. The rooin t & 
 good room up in the loft, and down here, you are only in tl 
 way." 
 
 " Only in the way ! Oh ! you sarpent ! A good room, you 
 say ; and all littered up with kags and boxes." 
 
 "Littered! Yes, and who litters them? Tell me that? 
 Tell the major now, ef you hain t got a hen a-setting now in 
 every one of them kags and boxes." 
 
 " Jest hear him, the sarpent ! Hens must set, major ! It s 
 the natur of hens to set ! But jest you ax him, major, ef he 
 hadn t the onnateral heart to say I shouldn t come down 
 to Ve in the way of Hs company." 
 
WHKLP AND DAM. 27 
 
 u Company?" wa the single word, uttered inquiringly by 
 the guest, and lie looked at Blodgit as if for explanation. 
 
 " You knows 1 has no company, mother," said the son, witl 
 a slight chow of confusion, and some little impatience in his tone. 
 " Yes, jju has, Pete ; and too much for your own good 
 What s them men, that kept you a-drinking here, Friday night, 
 for a most three good hours ; and then you went off with them, 
 the Lord knowc whar , for, I reckon, good two- hours more. 
 You were after no good, I reckon." 
 
 " Leaving you alone all that time, old lady ?" 
 
 " Jest so, major ; and me so mighty bad off with the rheuma 
 tic" 
 
 " Ah ! that rheumatiz ! Try the bacon, Mrs. Blodgit. It 
 was the bacon, and not the physic, that cured Mother Dollard. 
 And so, Pete neglects you for his drinking associates ; goes off 
 with all sort of scapegraces, I suppose, and leaves you to suffer 
 from your pains." 
 
 "That he does, major" 
 
 " I hev no company I don t go off with nobody, major " 
 
 " What, man ! won t let your mother speak ?" 
 
 " That s the how, major ! He shets me up jest as fast as I 
 open my mouth " 
 
 " A sure sign of a bad son, Mrs. Blodgit ; but, perhaps, he 
 had business with these people. You know, I sometimes send 
 my men to him." 
 
 Oh ! twarn t none of your men, major twas " 
 
 Pete Blodgit fidgetted. 
 
 " Mother, you d better let me talk about the business, to the 
 major, by ourselves." 
 
 The guest perceived the anxiety of the speaker ; nor did tho 
 changed tone of voice, with which he spoke, escape the observa 
 tion of the former. It had its effect upon the mother also. The 
 old woman immediately resumed her complaints of the rhouma- 
 tiz ; and rambled off into a comparison of her pains with those 
 of Betsy Dollard. The guest was placid, and did not seek to 
 press the point upon which he was, nevertheless, somewhat 
 curious. He contented himself with playing upon the old wo 
 man, in another way. 
 
 "Your case is certainly a hard one, Mrs, Blodgit. What 
 
28 THE FORAYED. 
 
 with the rheumatism, the girl, and yom unnatural son, your life 
 must be very wretched. Now I can euro you of all three of 
 these evils. Fling your physic out of the window, and try the 
 bacon ; give the girl to any young woman who has not got the 
 rheumatism ; and, as for Pete, I will take the cure of him upon 
 myself. He shall go with me to camp to-morrow, and see if out 
 orderly can t put him into the harness of good behavior." 
 
 " What ! send Pete to camp, major, and he a Iani3 person too, 
 that can t walk, as I may say." 
 
 " You forget ; he walks off with those peep-o -day boys " 
 " Oh ! that s only once in a way, major." 
 " His lameness doesn t hurt him as an overseer. It s a crook 
 only, not a weakness. A horse may be hipshet, you know, 
 yet good at draught." 
 
 " But Pete ain t a horse, major." 
 
 " No, indeed ; ef I was, mother, you d ha driven me to my 
 last legs long ago !" 
 
 " Thar ag in, you onnateral sarpent ! " began the old wo 
 man, when the major interrupted her 
 
 " You see, you can do nothing with a fellow so unkind and 
 ungrateful. The camp s the only place to bring him to his 
 senses." 
 
 " Oh ! major, how you talk. Pete s a good son thai- never 
 was a better. He ongrateful and onkind ? tain t in him, 
 major, to be onkind!" 
 
 " Yet he would have kept you up in that villanous loft, wrth 
 the hens setting everywhere about you. ? 
 
 " Oh ! Lord, major, for that matter I likes their company ; 
 and, as for the loft, it s not so bad a sleeping-place after all ; 
 and I m old, and better out of the way up thar. Pete meant 
 well, and I reckon, major, he was right all the time. Old peo 
 ple are apt to be onreasonable." 
 
 But tho bad company he keeps, old lady the roy storing 
 night-stalkers, outlaws, and tories, for aught we know, who " 
 "No ! no ! no tories, I m sure ! oh! major, Pete s one of the 
 best friends of liberty in all these parts. Ef the men that comes 
 to see him only now and then once a month, perhaps, not 
 opener ef they wouldn t be a drinking \3.ve, for two hoars at 
 r, sitrstch !-*- 
 
WHELP AND DAM. 29 
 
 " Shocking ! and yet, would you believe it, your son, Pete, 
 has not offered me a drop of Jamaica to take the salt of the 
 bacon out of my throat." 
 
 " Why, Pete!" began the old woman, but the son, who had 
 frequently shown himself restiff, and not unfrequently began 
 the replies for his mother, now spoke quickly, and in tones 
 somewhat louder than the occasion seemed to require 
 
 " Mother, why will you be talking foolishness. You know 
 very well that I keeps no liquor in the house nara [neither] 
 whiskey nor Jamaica ; and when the men comes that you speak 
 of, they brings their own liquor with em. You ll make the 
 major b lieve everything that s bad of me, and then he ll be 
 turning me out of the house, and letting loose the tories upon 
 me!" 
 
 The old woman whined from within, in assurances of her 
 son s sobriety and virtue ; and, with a smile upon his lips, the 
 guest exclaimed 
 
 " Say no more about it, old lady ; your son, I suppose, is not 
 unworthy of his excellent mother ! And now, Master Pete 
 Blodgit," he continued, speaking in lower tones, " lead the way 
 to the hayloft. I ll take my sleep to-night in a bed of fodder." 
 
 " But it rains yit, major." 
 
 " Yes, I hear ! But I am neither salt nor sugar, my good 
 fellow ; so lead the way !" 
 
 " Set down awhile, major, while I go, and brush up, and 
 spread out the clean fodder " 
 
 " Pshaw, man, do as I bid you," answered the stranger, lay 
 ing his hands on the other s shoulder and looking him search- 
 ingly in the face. "I am a soldier, and accustomed to rough 
 usage. Do not, by your prating, lead me to think that your 
 usage has been too tender." 
 
 There was that in the glance of the stranger, beneath which 
 the eyes of Pete Blodgit fell ; there was something;, too, in what 
 the other said, \vMch filled him with some misgivings. His 
 dark swarthy features, under a stronger light than that of a 
 " dipt" candle, would have shown themselves suffused with a 
 deeper red than usual ; and there was a tremor of his slight 
 form, as the other laid hands upon his shoulder, which betrayed 
 some lurking apprehensions. His msciousness was such that, 
 
30 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 f./i a moment, lie did not venture to reply. He was about to 
 light a Lit of candle, ingeniously socketed in a huge calabash, 
 pierced with little holes, the substitute for a lantern, and not a 
 bad one either when his companion arrested the movement. 
 
 " Take no light, Blodgit. Carry your flint and steel an.l 
 the candle in your pocket ! Good-night, old lady." 
 " What, major, air you guine out into the weather ?" 
 " Only to see if the rain has washed out all the stars." 
 " Oh ! major, you will be for poking fun at the old woman. 
 It s the way with you young ossifcrs." 
 
 Our traveller had some good-natured answer to this, while 
 Pete Blodgit was undoing the entrance of the cabin ; but, while 
 speaking, the back of the other being turned, he contrived to 
 lay gently upon the floor at his feet, and just where he had 
 been sitting, a memorandum pocket-book. His movement es 
 caped the notice of the cottager, and, in a moment after, the 
 two disappeared in the night together, taking their way once 
 more in the direction of the stables. 
 
ROOU2 ,N GRAIN 51 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ROGUE IN GRAIN. 
 
 THE ha;?, 01 rather fodder-loft, which the./ Bought, was above 
 the stable. Entering this, the candle was lighted, and our trav 
 eller gave a look at his good steed. He was pleased to see that 
 the beast pricked up his ears, and showed animation. Blodgit 
 now supplied the trough with corn; and, this done, the two 
 clambered up by a rude ladder into the loft above. 
 
 Tliis great vaulted chamber was pretty well filled with fodder 
 closely packed, clean, dry, well cured, and sweetly smelling. It 
 offered a pleasant sleeping-place to the jaded traveller on a 
 stormy night. It was ample enough ; a house upon a house ; 
 high-roofed, with the square walls of the house running up 
 above the floor some six feet, and forming, with the roofing, 
 an apartment of considerable depth. The length and breadth 
 fully corresponded with the height. The stables were calcu 
 lated for the accommodation of fully thirty horses. At this mo 
 ment, they contained that of our traveller only, and a stout hack 
 ney of Master Pete Blodgit. There was a single window at 
 each end of the loft, through the crevices of which the light 
 found its way usually with the dawn. 
 
 Our traveller had the precaution to conceal the candle by 
 
 cooping out a space in the fodder piles, shrouding he gleams 
 
 ? the light, even so feeble as they were, from all possibility of 
 
 boing seen through the chinks of the building, by any chance 
 
 passer on the outside. The two, now sitting lown beside the 
 
 candle, contributed still more effectually to the obscuration of 
 
 it, which they seemed to desire. In ".his position the traveller 
 
 >egan a conversation for which Pete Blodgit evidently waited 
 
 ith .some lisquiet. 
 
 " I take for: graaied >Jgit, that < wise enough, and 
 
52 THE FOHAYERS. 
 
 honest enough, to be sensible of the kindness and liberality 
 with which you have been treated by my sister and myself, and 
 to be faithful to her interests and mine. In this, as I have al 
 ready tried repeatedly to show you, lay your own interest 
 nay, safety ! I have secured you the forbearance of our own 
 people, and suffer you to keep up appearances with the British 
 1 intrust to you the property of my sister, and give vou a liberal 
 support out of it. Your policy is to be faithful, o^en if you 
 lacked the honesty " 
 
 " But I am honest, major ! Who says I ain t honest to you ? 
 I d like to know ! There s no man what has a right to " 
 
 " I wish to believe you honest, Pete ; yet how is it that you 
 suffer drunken and drinking visitors, and night-rufflers, to come 
 about you 1 And who are these visitors I I hope you are not 
 falling into bad company." 
 
 " Lord, no ! major ; that s jest the old woman s talk ; A she 
 wouldn t be an old woman, you know, ef she didn t talk, and 
 talk, about them things that she don t onderstand. The people 
 that come here, once or twice and they was a-drinking set of 
 fellows, I own they were Marion s men " 
 
 " What were Marion s men doing away from camp at this 
 
 time]" 
 
 " Well, you see, he had let some of them come off, to seo 
 arter their famblies and their crops. They were some of the 
 Baxters and Corries ; young Tom Eigleberger, and Joe Pur 
 vis, and Dick Stairns, and some others, whose famblies live 
 along the Edisto " 
 
 " Enough of them, for the present ! I am not satisfied that 
 they have left camp with the general s permission, and the less 
 /on have to say to them, the better." 
 
 " Lord love you, major, it s only once in a way I seed them , 
 X reckon, before this time, they re off to camp ag in." 
 
 " So much the better for you, as for themselves ! and now foi 
 our accounts. How much powder and ball have you been ab^ 
 to pick up ]" 
 
 "Mighty leetle, majov. The redcoats are getting shy of 
 parting with ammynition. I don t think I ve been aoie to gii 
 more than thirty weight of bullets, and a leeJe more than half 
 that quantity of powder." 
 
ROGUE IN GRAIN. 83 
 
 " Any muskets ?" 
 
 " Only three." 
 
 " How s this ? K jt one of my deputies but has been doing 
 far better, in the time you ve had. Ballou, alone, has been 
 able to pick up more than forty weight of powder, thirteen 
 muskets, and ninety-eight pounds of ball; besides sending 
 thirteen Irish deserters into camp." 
 
 " Well, I can t say ; but Ballou must be more in luck s way 
 than inc. I hain t had any chaince ; besides, major, I ve had 
 so leotle money." 
 
 " How so ? You ve been selling corn and foddei, 1 know ! 
 I see even here, your pile has come down considerably ! and 
 how s the corn in the swamp fens ?" 
 
 " Well, I hain t sold much, major. Mighty leetle, in fact " 
 
 " Be sure, Pete Blodgit, of the truth of what you are about to 
 tell me. I would not have you commit yourself. I would not 
 wish to discharge you : but I will not be deceived ; and I have 
 the means of knowing. Speak out boldly, man, and in order to 
 do so, be sure you speak nothing but the truth." 
 
 " Oh ! to be sure, major ; it s nothing but the truth that I m 
 guine to tell you ! Now, you see, powder and shot is mighty 
 scarce in these pairts. It s hardly to be had for love or money ; 
 and the money s scarce ; for, though I hev been selling a leetle 
 provisions, yet, you see, the money you gits for it ain t always 
 the right grit." 
 
 " You don t tell nio, Pete Blodgit, that you ve been taking 
 continental money from the British, for my sister s corn and 
 fodder." 
 
 " Well, you see, major, there warr> c any help for it Times 
 ain t as they usen to be. Thar s no sich pbnty of guineas now 
 to be had, and sence the British hev been a printing and coun- 
 terfitting this continental paper, they re more likely to poke 
 that into your fkt than the yaller beautiea. 
 
 The officer gazed sternly into the countenance of the other, 
 whose eyes drooped slowly beneath his glance, as be Bternly in 
 terrupted him 
 
 " Why do you try to outwind me, Pete Blodgir, with this 
 chatter about and about the truth. To the point, man. What 
 !t>rn a>id fodder have you sold, and what money have you goJ ? 
 
 2* 
 
34 THE FOUAYERS. 
 
 "Well, major, don t Lc too rash now jest let me count up 
 and remember. Thar was a matter of five loads of fodder that 
 was tuk away by that blasted squad of tories under Eichebourg ; 
 und they wouldn t pay in nothing but the blasted paper." 
 . " Why did you take it ?" 
 
 " How could I help myself, major ? They would ha tuk it 
 anyhow." 
 
 " What ! and you with Lord Rawdon s own protection in 
 your pocket ?" 
 
 " Twan t no use, major, with sicb. rapscallions as them. 
 They jest laughed at the paper." 
 " Well --proceed !" 
 
 "Then thar was Cappin Creighton " 
 " llegula; service 1" 
 
 Yis rigilars but they paid some in continentals, and 
 some, in gould." 
 
 " How much gold ?" 
 
 44 1 reckon, I had five guineas from him." 
 " Five guineas ! well V 
 
 " Then come Norris s dragoons, and they y gin me a leetle 
 gold." 
 
 " How much gold P 
 "Well, about five guineas more." 
 
 "That is ten, then, that you admit. How about Keene s 
 squadron ?" 
 
 "Oh! Keene yes, I did of,ll some provisions to Cappiii 
 Keene, and he paid nib a lestle gold loo ; say three guineas 
 " Thirteen ! what more ?" 
 
 " Well, I don t recollect, jest now, any more, major, cept 
 " Except what 1" 
 
 "Except what our own people got, Thar was Cappin 
 Uvnn/ii got some with your order; and Ville-Pontoux, and 
 that rough customer, Wannamaker ; all of them had your order, 
 and didn t pay nothing." 
 
 " No matter about iliem. You mean to tell me, Blodgit, that 
 you ve got only thirteen guineas for me ?" 
 
 " Hain t got that, in gould, major ; for, you D ee, the powder 
 And ball, and the three muskets, had to be paid for out of 
 that." 
 
ROGUE IN GRAIN. 85 
 
 "A moment, my good fellow. How many of the corn-bins 
 
 are empty ?" 
 
 " Oh ! none empty, major .... I hain t sold so much corn as 
 that comes to." 
 
 " Ah, well ! not sold so much corn ! Stop a moment." 
 
 Here the stranger felt in his pockets. 
 
 " Where can my memorandum-book be ? I must have left it, 
 Blodgit, whore I ate supper. I had it, certainly, before I sat 
 down to table. Do run off to the house, and see after it; and, 
 liarkye, don t look into it, as it contains some private ir.:;tters 
 concerning the army." 
 
 The other eagerly rose, as if glad to escape the scrutiny 
 which he had been undergoing; and, in a few moments, de 
 scended the ladder, and emerged from the stable, the door of 
 which he locked behind him. The stranger smiled as he heard 
 the bolt shot and the key withdrawn ; and, rising stealthily, 
 lantern in hand, he too descended, and proceeded at once to 
 the stall where Blodgit s horse was fastened. 
 
 " Third stall from the right," he muttered to himself as he 
 entered it ; " thre,e notches in centre-post, iron ring on top-post 
 movable. Let us see let us feol." 
 
 And, thus saying, he tried the post, which he readily found, 
 and discovered that it was secured to the partition dividing one 
 stall from another, by a single, but large screw that it was 
 nowhere nailed to the partition, and that it worked freely be 
 neath his hand. 
 
 " So far, all promises to be true. The lying rascal ! The 
 ungrateful hound ! But I will lay him utterly bare." 
 
 Having satisfied his curiosity in the stall, he secreted the lan 
 tern, drew a key from his pocket, and opened the door of the 
 stable, carefully locked it, and withdrew the key; then stole 
 off to the cabin, with a light, swift footstep, pursuing the route 
 in the darkness, with the ease of one to whom it had been long 
 familiar. The rain was still falling, but not heavily, and of 
 this he seemed to take no heed. He passed to the rear of the 
 building, and, through a crevice, was enabled to discern all the 
 movements of Blodgit. The latter had already found the 
 memorandum-book, but, in defiance of his instructions, wa* 
 greedily turning over its pages, auJ reading its contents. 
 
86 THE FOEAYERS. 
 
 14 Nothing here," he muttered, as he read ; " nothing here, that 
 I kin see, about the corn and fodder ; but here s a mighty deal 
 of information about Greene s army, and Marion s men, and 
 Sumter s chickens, that I reckon Lord Rawdon would pay a 
 pretty nice little amount in goulden guineas ef he could only 
 read like me." 
 
 Suddenly, his mother, starting out of sleep, called to him 
 from within : " Pete Pete Blodgit that you?" 
 
 He started with a shiver the convulsion of guilt and fear 
 thrust the book hastily into his bosom, and strode, without an 
 swering, toward the door. She called again. 
 " That you, Pete ?" 
 " Yes, it s me." 
 "What s the matter, Pete ?" 
 
 " Matter enough. Here s the major a wanting to drean all 
 the money out of me. I d as leave he d drean me of all the 
 blood in my body." 
 
 " I d drean Ms first, Pete Blodgit. I d never let him hev 
 the gould that I hed once fairly got into my own hands. Come 
 here to me, Pete, and let me tell you what you re to do." 
 " I kain t now ! He s a waiting for me." 
 " Well, you re but a poor-sperited creature, ef you let him 
 drean you of a copper. I d draw a knife for it, Pete, I would!" 
 " Hush up : who knows but I may !" 
 
 Amiable couple!" muttered the stranger, .as he listened 
 without ; " and this, great God, is human nature ; in a Chris 
 tian land ; where no house is without its Bible; where no pre 
 cinct is without its preacher ! Here is a mother, on the verge 
 of the grave, counselling her own son to murder, for a paltry 
 sum of gold ! And these are people for whom I have found 
 shelter and protection whom I have kept from starvation 
 whom I still feed, and to whom I have given the very servant 
 to whom they look for help and water !" 
 
 But there was no time for soliloquy. Pete Blodgit was 
 already about to undo his door, and the stranger stole away 
 swiftly in the direction of the stable. Here he housed himself, 
 ascending once more to the fodder loft, and resuming his place 
 quif.tlv. as he heard the key of the other slowly t irning in the 
 lock 
 
ROGUE IN GRAIN. 37 
 
 " You were long in finding it, Pete," said the guest, as Blodgit 
 handed him the book. 
 
 " Tifjs hard to find, major, as I hed to feel for it : I hed 
 no light, and did nt want to wake the old woman to git the one 
 she hed." 
 
 " Well, as you had no light, I needn t ask you whether you 
 read anything in the book." 
 
 "It s mighty little skill I hev in reading, any how; but you 
 tell d me not, you know." 
 
 Meanwhile, the stranger turned over the pages of the book ; 
 then, slowly speaking, he said : 
 
 " Pete Blodgit, I have tried to favor you, but you will not 
 let me. I warned you to speak the truth to me, but you 
 have been deaf to the warning. Now, hear what 1 know. You 
 have sold both cattle and provisions to Coffin s commissary, of 
 which you have not told me a syllable." 
 
 " Oh ! but he paid in continental currency, major." 
 
 " Not so, sir ! He paid you in guineas, sir, forty-seven guin 
 eas, all of which were counted out into your own hands." 
 
 The fellow was dumb his eyes dilated to a marvellous 
 wideness his lips quivered his teeth almost chattered; but 
 he could not deliver a syllable ! The other gavs him no 
 respite. 
 
 " You sold to Fisher, also, and got your pay in gold a mat 
 ter of nine guineas : but here, look over that list for yourself; 
 and say what other items might be set down, which are not 
 there, but which ought to be taken into count against you !" 
 
 The criminal took the paper mechanically, and, while the 
 perspiration rolled down his face and forehead, he seemed to 
 peruse the document. When he had clone, the other said : 
 
 "Now hand over to me all the money you ve got." 
 
 Blodgit dvew a leathern sack from his bohom which he deliv 
 ered with some -alacrity into the hands of the major. The lat 
 ter untied it, spread his handkerchief, and poured out the con 
 tents, which he deliberately counted. 
 
 " Thirteen guineas, it seems ; and this continental stuff 1 ?" 
 
 " Four thousand three hundred and thirty-five dollars 1" 
 Blodgit, uttered the amount sonorously. 
 
 " Well remembered. Now, Blodgit, where s the twenty-five 
 
38 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 dollars y <u receive! in Spanish silver from Corporal Rickarts 
 of the Hessian yagers ?" 
 
 " Silver Spanish dollars ! major, I quite forgot that. I 
 gin that to the old woman to keep. I ll go and git it right away." 
 
 " Nay, leave it Avith her ! But how comes it, Blodgit, that 
 this small balance is all that remains of the amount you have 
 received?" 
 
 "Well, but, major, there s the continental paper." 
 
 "None of that nonsense, Blodgit, will impose on me! 
 Where s the gold ?" 
 
 " And you forget, major, what I had to pay for the muskets, 
 the powder and balls." 
 
 "Ah !: and where are they?" 
 
 " Thar ! under the fodder in that corner." 
 
 " Good. Is the powder in kegs ?" 
 
 " No, major, in sheep-skins and bladders ; and tied up in two 
 eends of a salt-bag." 
 
 " It is dry, then, and in convenient form for removal ?" 
 
 "Oh! yes!" 
 
 " And this is all the money that you have?" 
 
 "It dreans all the blood out of me, major. I hain t got an 
 other shilling, cept the Spanish dollars that I gin the old 
 woman to keep." 
 
 " You would no doubt be grateful to any person who should 
 show you that there was still some money left, both in gold and 
 silver ?" 
 
 " As I m a living sinner, Major Sinclair, I hain t got two six 
 pences to rub ag in each other. I swow ! 
 
 " Stop, man ! Don t rivet the chains of the devil about your 
 soul by an oath !" 
 
 " What do you mean, major ?" 
 
 " I ll show you, my good fellow, in a moment," said the 
 other, gathering up the money, and returning it to the leathern 
 wallet, which he deposited quietly in the body of his coat. 
 This done, he said : 
 
 Take up the lantern !" 
 
 The fellow obeyed, and led the way, as biy superior directed, 
 to the ladder, both descending to the stable. Here Sinclair 
 pointed to the stall containing the overseer s beast. 
 
ROGUE IN GRAIN. 39 
 
 " Put your horse into another stall." It was done in silence. 
 Blodgit obeyed, tremblingly, in all things. 
 
 " Unscrew me that post." 
 
 " Why, it s nailed down fast, major." 
 
 " Unscrew, unscrew !" The fellow submitted. 
 
 " Now pull up the post !" 
 
 " Why, major, it s onpossible, unless we dig. It s sunk deep 
 in the airth." 
 
 "Try it!" 
 
 The fellow appeared to try, but the post appeared still to re 
 main immovable. Sinclair approached it, passing the lantern 
 into the hands of Bloclgit. He then grasped the post with a sin 
 gle hand. As he did so, the light flickered Blodgit having 
 reached forward his right hand to the trough against which 
 leaned an oaken billet. But whether he designed to grasp it 
 or not, and for what purpose, must be only matter of conjecture, 
 Tor, in that very moment, Sinclair turned full upon him, and 
 clapped a pistol to his head. 
 
 " I tell you, hold the lantern ! Make a movement, to the 
 right or the left, and I blow your brains out." 
 
 The fellow fairly shivered, but he made out to stammer: 
 
 Why, major, what s the trouble ? What em I doing?" 
 
 " Enough, Pete Blodgit, that I know you i Hold that lan 
 tern steadily. Beware!" 
 
 With this speech as if satisfied of his securities he deigned 
 not another word, or look, to the fellow ; but, with a single 
 hand, tore up the post from the spot where it seemed to be 
 firmly planted in the earth. This act required no effort, the 
 post having been maintained in an erect position simply by the 
 single screw a large one inleed which had fastened it to 
 the partition 
 
 " Leave the stall ! Go to the next and hold your lantern 
 4yer," was the dteri command of his visirer, in tones that co 
 erced the will CJL ? the listener. Blodgit obeyed in silence, 
 while Siiic .air, stooping to the hole left by the post, drew up 
 an eld powder-keg by a rope-hitch, which had been made 
 about it. 
 
 " You are surprised, Mr. Pete Blodgit, at my discovering 
 golden treasures where you had none," said Sinclair, as, with 
 
4:0 THE FORAY ERS. 
 
 the muzzle of bis pistol, he knocked in the head of the keg, 
 and laid bare its contents. Blodgit groaned aloud as the other 
 poured out the guineas into a great belt which he had drawn 
 from his bosom, and now strapped about his body. 
 
 " Why do you groan, man ! Ought you not rather to rejoice 
 at my good fortune ?" 
 
 The other groaned again. 
 
 " Pete Blodgit," said Sinclair, " your gnawing avarice has 
 made you a rogue and a traitor. Were I to serve you rightly, 
 I should abandon you to your fate; nay, have you hung to 
 the first swinging bough ! But you are sufficiently punished by 
 the loss of your ill-appropriated treasure. Now hear me. I have 
 an eye upon you, and no trust in you ! My spies shall watch 
 you. I shall give you one more trial. Do you try and be 
 faithful ! I shall leave in your hands the corn and fodder still, 
 to be sold out as it is called for. I shall leave you the negro- 
 girl to help your mother as before. You have the hogs, the 
 cattle, and the poultry ; and a cover over your own heads. Be 
 faithful!" 
 
 Blodgit fell upon his knees. 
 
 " Oh ! Lord, major, have mercy upon me ! It was the old 
 woman that tempted me !" 
 
 " Silence, rascal, and say nothing of your mother ! I doubt 
 if she knows of your proceedings. It is the bad company you 
 have kept, sirrah, your own gnawing avarice, your own cor 
 rupt heart, that have led you. to sin! Away, now! not a 
 word and rout ine up at daylight. I will then give you my 
 further instructions. Take the light with you, and begone !" 
 
 The culprit did not vait & second oro.er. Ho dashed out ; 
 and Sinclair heard him shoot the bolt and draw out the key, 
 and fancied that there was a deliberate something ir- the way 
 of his doing it, that spoke for a secret satisfaction, in the 
 thought of the fellow, which seemed to give him ?onsolation 
 even after his losses. The other smiled scornfully.* however, 
 and muttered : 
 
 " Rascal ! He thinks he has me fast till morning ! Bui 
 I will teach him another lesson. Does he suppose me silly 
 enough to have faith in him, after I have found him out after 
 I have stripped him of his stolen treasures after I have shown 
 
ROGUE IN GRAIN. 41 
 
 him that I know him ! No ! no ! master Blodgit ; I only stroke 
 the cat s fur until I can get beyond reach of her claws ! There 
 is work to be done before morning ! Were I to linger till 
 peep of day, I should never see another. The scamp would 
 soon have a score of his Jamaica-seekers busy with their 
 knives about my throat. I must try and keep it sound fo 
 sweeter customers." 
 
42 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 HCW TO TRAIN A CAT INTO A TM3BK. 
 
 WE are not sure that all rascals have a like share of sensi 
 bility with Master Pete Bloclgit, and exhibit the same degree 
 of mortification upon detection. We do not, indeed, pretend to 
 say that Pete s irortification was the result of any peculiar 
 sense of shame ; and are half inclined to suspect that he would 
 not have cared a button about the exposure of his short-comings, 
 and dubious reckonings, with his employer, had the other not 
 shown himself so exacting so tenacious about his returns, and 
 so pressing and so punctilious in respect to immediate restora 
 tion. That discovery of the hiding-place of his treasure, held 
 to be so perfectly secure that was the crowning misery and 
 mortification, that sent Pete to his wigwam, almost howling 
 with fury. A sneaking, cur-like scoundrel naturally, his vexa 
 tion, under this affliction, was such as to sublime itself to rage ; 
 and he felt, for a moment, almost disposed to put on the armor 
 of heroism, and boldly grapple with the insolent assailant who 
 had so suddenly dispossessed him of his accumulated spoils. 
 
 But Pete was not by nature endowed to be a hero. He 
 might have brained Sinclair with his bludgeon, and probably 
 would have tried to do so, had the opportunity been allowed 
 him ay we na if suspect was his intention, at the moment 
 when his secret treasure was discovered; but, to brave the 
 enemy boldly, with naked weapon, front to front, and eye 
 looking into eye, was by no means the course of action which 
 Pete was prepared either by nature or education to attempt. 
 
 But he could rage fiercely, the danger not present nay, re 
 solve terribly in the moment of security and his wrath burst 
 forth into a perfect yell, when he found himself fairly within 
 his cabin, with the door fastened behind him. He dashed the 
 lauteru down upon the table, and smote the table itself with a 
 
HOW TO TRAIN A CAT INTO A TIGER. 43 
 
 heavy fist, while groan after groan broke from his breast,, the 
 proof of that terrible avarice which filled his heart, and which 
 had been thus deprived of all its accumulated provisipn, " at 
 one foil swoop !" 
 
 His mother, wlio was naturally wakeful, and whom the pre 
 vious communication of the son had rendered anxiously so. now 
 cried to him from within :- 
 
 " W ell, Pete, you hain t given up the gould ?" 
 
 " Hain t I then ] Hell ! what could I do ?" 
 
 " What, all ? You d m t say all ?" 
 
 " Every copper ! I m dreaned of every button !" 
 
 "I d ha died first!" responded the venerable rheumatic. 
 " I d ha tried knife and bullet for it, before I d ha let myself 
 be dreaned of all my hard yairnings by any man that ever 
 broke bread. But I always told you, you was a mean-sperrited 
 critter ! What s a man good for, ef he won t stand a fight for 
 his yaimiugs ?" 
 
 " Oh ! hush, I say, mother ! You don t know i How em 1 
 to stand up lo a fair fight, me a lame pusson, and a small pusson 
 to boot, with sich a powerful man as Willie Sinclair 1 You know 
 it s all nonsense to talk so." 
 
 " Who talks of a fair fight, but your own fool-head ? I knows 
 well enough you d bs nothing in the hands of Willie Sinclair, ef 
 lie know d what yon was a-driving at. But youVe had chaince 
 enough of doing- Oio thing without any fight at all ! Whar was 
 your eyes, your hand, your knife, when he was a-eating, or 
 a-lying down, or a-counting out the money, or looking over his 
 papers? Lord ! ef : hed been me, I reckon I could ha found 
 a hundred chainces for laying him over the head with a hick 
 ory, or driving a sharp knife cl ar down into his ribs. Thar s 
 always chainces enough for any man that s got a man s heart in 
 Ma buzzom, Pete Blodgit ! But you ain t no man at all, as I ve 
 told you a thousand times. Ef you was a man, twouldn t all 
 now stand as it is; and Willie Sinclair wouldn t git off with 
 that gould, though he s got it in his pocket, as you say. Thar s 
 many ways for spiling a man s marching, ef thar was only a 
 man ready to chock the wheels, or cut the traces." 
 
 " Well, hush, now, mother. Taiu t all over yit, as yo?. say ; 
 and I m a-thhiking how I shall work it." 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Oh ! much good your thinking will do you, Pete, ef yon 
 does it all by your own self. Come in here to me, and we ll 
 frJk it over together. It makes me strain my throat too much 
 to talk to you out thai 1 . Come in, I say ! Lord ! ef I was 
 only a man !" 
 
 " I w ; sh you was !" sullenly responded the son, as he passed 
 into the chamber. 
 
 "Set down thar longside of me on the bed, Pete set 
 down ! And, now, tell me all about it, Pete. Yen say he tuk v 
 the whole thirteen guineas, and gin you nothing ?" 
 
 "Thirteen guineas! Lord! ef that was all! -itwao nigh 
 on to a hundred guineas that he dreaned out of me ! It was !" 
 
 " The Lord ha marsy upon my poor soul ! And you let any 
 man sweep you clean, of nigh on to a hundred guineas, and you 
 never struck a stroke ?" 
 
 " Well, you needn t go on a-saying the same foolish thing 
 over and over ag in, as ef I had no foelin o !" growled the fel 
 low impatiently. 
 
 " And I wonder what s the sarvice sich feelin s as yours are 
 a-guine to do any free white man 1 Ef the right feelin s was in 
 your buzzum, you d a dreaned his heart s blood, afore he d ha 
 dreaned your pockets !" 
 
 " Oh ! you needn t talk, neither ; we ll see what you re 
 a-guine to say and to do, when he comes at you in the morning 
 for that bag of silver dollars I gin you to put away." 
 
 " What ! you didn t tell him of them dollars, too, did you ?" 
 almost screamed the old woman. 
 
 " How could I help it ? He know d all about it ! He know d 
 everything !" 
 
 " And how kim he to know ? 
 
 " From the devil himself, I reckon ; for I kain t guess how 
 lie found out everything, even to the kag of guineas in the 
 stable." 
 
 " And a pretty place to hide a kag of guineas ! Oh ! Peto 
 Blodgit, of you was a born ediot you couldn t ha done a moro 
 foolish t>..<ng!" 
 
 " Well, we ll see how you ll hide away them dollars when li* 
 comes for em in the morning." 
 "And you re a-guine to let him pee morning shine, you pool 
 
HOW TO TRAtN A CAT INTO A TIGER. 45 
 
 sperrited, mean critter ! You ll let him drean me, too, of all 
 the Icetle bit of money I ve put away ag in bad weather 1 ?" 
 
 "Well, it s his own money that is, it s his sister Sj wluch is 
 tie same thing, you know." 
 
 " And what do I care for him, or his sister ? What d in ray 
 pocket s mine, I tell you ; and I ll hold on to it, as I would to 
 dear life, I tell you ! He s a fool that lets himself be bled to 
 death, and dreaned of all his yairnings, when there s a way ,o 
 stop the drean." 
 
 " Ha ! that s it I How will you stop the drean ? Jest let mo. 
 know what you ll say and do to save them Spanish dollars ?" 
 
 " Ef you was the right sort of man, yoird be doing without 
 axing me. But, as you ain t, I ll tell you. Oh ! ef I was a 
 man, I wouldn t waste words on you nor Ir.m ! I d do it my 
 self, and nobody d be the wiser of what was done till it was too 
 late to put in with a stop you thar ! Look you, Pete Blodgit, 
 I kin hardly lift a leg, therefore tain t possible for me to do 
 nothing ; but you you must pluck up heart, Pete, and jest do 
 as I tell you." 
 
 " Git on quick ! You re a-burning daylight !" 
 
 " Well : you ve a gnn ! Ain t thar a way to shoot through 
 the logs?" 
 
 " Not easy ! Besides, in all them blades, thar s no saying in 
 jist what p!sce he sleeps." 
 
 " Then you must knifs him as he sleeps !" 
 
 " Easy enough, ef you could git at him without waking him. 
 But that s the trouble. While you re a-working your way at 
 him, he mayn t be taking it easy." 
 
 " And kain t you sneak like a cat, ef you kain t fight like a 
 tiger. Kain t you git into the stable, boy, without screaking 
 the lock as it turns, or the door on its hinges ? You ve got the 
 key, and you ve got the feet and cunning of a cat !" 
 
 "Ay, the key s safe" and he drew it from his pocket 
 " and he s safe, too, till morning." 
 
 " Good ! And so you git into the stable, and creep up into 
 the loft, and feel about, softly, as any kitten, and jest you make 
 sure when you go to stick !" 
 
 " He ll wake for sartin ! The fodder s all about, and it will 
 rustle." 
 
46 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " No ! no ! he won t wake ! He s pretty veil tired down L) 
 his riding. I know d it from his talk, and he said as much 
 He ll sleep sound like a bag of feathers, I tell you, the moment 
 he lays himself down for it. But jest you take your time, an<! 
 feel your way, and be up and doing, with a heart that s all the 
 time a telling you Pete, don t you lose them guineas! 
 Giminie ! a most a hundred ! And you lied a most a hundred 
 guineas, yon mean-sperrited critter, and never let your own 
 mother know a word about it ?" 
 
 " Oh ! hush about all that, mother ! The thing now is how 
 to ?it em back." 
 
 - Hev nt I told you ? Go you now, and set about it. Do it 
 as I tell you. You were a born sneak, and ought to be able to 
 crawl up, and feel where his heart beats, and drive your knife 
 down hard like a hammer." 
 
 " I won t try the knife. I hev pistols ; good ones, too, with 
 mouths like bulldogs ; and a pair half-ounce bullets in em both." 
 
 "The knife s safest, Pete! Git your heart up! That s 
 what you want ! Only a leetle more of the tiger, and less of 
 the cat, and Willie Sinclah wouldn t ua ? ?een the shine of them 
 guineas, and won t carry em off, now he s got V.m !" 
 
 " I ll take both knife and pistols ! But I m deuced jubous 
 about it, mother. Ef I miss, and he should wake, he ll chop me 
 to sausage-meat in a twink !" 
 
 " What ! and you with two pistob in. your grip? V 1 
 
 " Yes ! ef I had twenty ! He s got somethirg that I wants, 
 mother, and what makes a fighting-man. 
 
 " It s the heart, Pete ! But you ve got a heart for the guin 
 eas, and a man ought to fight for the thing he loves ! A most 
 a hundred guineas ! Pete Blodgit, ef you let s Willie Sinclair 
 git off with them hundred guineas, I ll cut your heart out ! I 
 will ! Go ! sneak upon him, and dig into his ribs ontil you hear 
 the rattle in his throat ! Never stop digging till you hear him 
 gurgle out his last ! It s for a hundred guineas, you know !" 
 
 And clutching the fellow by the wrist, with a savage energy, 
 as she spoke, she drew him toward her with one hand, while 
 with the other she smote him upon the breast, as if to shov r hL . 
 the exact manner in which the deed was to be done. Pete 
 wondered at the sinewy grasp whicl- *lw old woman still pop 
 
HOW TO TRAIN A CAT INTO A TIGER. 47 
 
 sessed, and could not forbear murmuring an equal acknowl 
 edgment of liis own feebleness and her strength of will "Ah 
 mammy, ef I only had sich a heart as your n in my buzzum !" 
 
 " Ah ! Pete, but I was a she-tiger one time ! Your daddy 
 know d it well. He warn t no coward neither, Pete ; yet 
 many a times he said to me Polly, you ought to have been 
 a man and a sodger ! and, the Lord knows, I ought ! But 
 you ve got heart enough, Pete, ef you ll only trust to it! 
 You re afeard of your own heart, now ; and that s bad, bekaifie 
 it keeps you from trying ! But jest you try now, Pete, and 
 niind and do it as your old mammy tells you ! Snake it into 
 the stable, and up the loft, and go on snaking it tell you feel 
 iest where s he s a-lying.; then put it to him, quick and hard ! 
 Only be sure and feel first where to stick. Go now, quick, and 
 do it ! Do it, I say ! or don t you let me see that face of your n 
 ag in !" 
 
 " I ll do it !" exclaimed the son, starting up with a show of 
 resolution which delighted the old woman, and encouraged the 
 wretch himself. 
 
 "Do it, Pete, like a man! and while you re a-doing it, I ll 
 be a-praying for you, Pete your mother will be praying for 
 you, Pete! Never forgit, when the time comes for you to 
 strike, that there s a hundred guineas depending upon it, in the 
 dead man s pocket !" 
 
 The promise to pray for him, while he sped on his devout 
 mission, seemed very much to encourage our young Christian ; 
 since he now began to move with a greatly increased show of 
 determination and energy. He examined his pistols, felt the 
 charge with the ramrod, picked the flints, saw to the priming, 
 then stuck the weapons in his girdle. His couteau de chasse 
 for Pete was a hunter, equally of hogs and deer he subjected 
 to as careful a scrutiny ; and, satisfied with his tools, he threw 
 open his door in order to proceed to work ; but closed it 
 again, quick as lightning, with an exclamation of surprise, if 
 not apprehension 
 
 " What n the name of old Billzebub can that be a-coming !" 
 
 Let us leave him for a brief space, while we see to other 
 parties in this our history, from whom we may also learn the 
 of Master Blodgit s surprise. 
 
48 THE FORAYER8. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE HELL-FIRE DICKS. 
 
 WE have seen that Willie Sinclair had his doubts respecting 
 the virtue of the good people inhabiting the cottage, though he 
 eouid not exactly conjecture in what particular mode it was 
 destined to be exercised in respect to himself. His precautions, 
 however, were so taken as measurably to prepare him for any 
 of the peculiar processes of Master Blodgit. Scarcely had the 
 latter disappeared with his light into the cottage, than our hero 
 proceeded to his preparations. 
 
 The first step was to put his good steed into harness. Nim- 
 rod was not quite satisfied with the performance, but he was 
 docile; and only showed his dissatisfaction by a more rapid 
 demonstration upon the ears of corn still remaining unmunched 
 in the trough. He sought thus to provide against the necessity 
 of soon departing from pleasant pastures; a lesson of fore 
 thought which the war-horse and soldier acquire with singular 
 and equal aptitude ; and, while his master clapped on saddle 
 cloth and saddle, he buried his head deep in the trough; with a 
 dogged resolution to keep it there just as long as he was per 
 mitted. He did not exactly anticipate the sort of duty he was 
 to perform, or the burden he was to carry ; but he had old ex 
 periences of the rough usages of war ; and he was one of those 
 philosophical horses that always prepare for the worst, and 
 meekly resign themselves to what they can not resisY Not 
 that he was a beast wanting in spirit ! See him on a charge, 
 and there could be no doubt about his blood. But your gener 
 ous bloods are always most gentle ; and docility is one of the 
 best proofs of the longest-lived courage, whether in man or 
 beast. 
 
 Sinclair patted Nimrod s shoulders affectionately, and left him 
 saddled and bridled, but unbitted, still munching with head in 
 
THE HELL-FIRE DICKS. 49 
 
 the trough. The trooper next wen above, and brought down 
 from the loft the sack of powder, t e muskets and bullets, which 
 Blodgit had stored away. The performance, carried on entirely 
 in the dark, was necessarily a somewhat slow one: but Sinclair 
 knew the precincts well ; and, being equally cool and prompt, 
 he contrived to do the work in the least possible period of time. 
 The powder, alone, did he strap upon the steed. The muskets 
 and bullets he carried forth using his pass-key to emerge 
 from the stable into the contiguous woods, some two hundred 
 yards from the stable, where he hid them in the hollow of a 
 tree; the route to which he pursued with little difficulty 
 like one accustomed in spite of the darkness which hung 
 heavily over the scene. A few handfuls of the bullets, alone, 
 did he sling upon the crupper of his horse. 
 
 " What with my weight, Nim," quoth he, addressing hid 
 steed "a round hundred and fifty at least this goodly pouch 
 of guineas, some twenty weight of powder, and a few pounds 
 of ball, you have something to carry besides your provender, 
 old fellow ! but two hours will suffice two hours." 
 
 And he stroked the mane of the beast affectionately, slipped 
 
 -lie bridle over his neck, now bitted him, and satisfied himself, 
 
 a nice examination, that his preparations were all complete. 
 
 This done, he stole forth once more from the stable, and took 
 
 uis course toward the dwelling of Blodgit and his dam. All 
 
 seemed to be quiet in that quarter, and, whether it was that 
 
 Blodgit had concealed his light, or extinguished it, no gleam 
 
 was apparent through the crevices of the cabin. Satisfied now 
 
 that he might bring out his horse in safety, Sinclair returned 
 
 to the stable and did so. 
 
 The beast offered no objections, and did not even exhibit the 
 reluctance which we are very sure he felt. His master did not 
 mount, but led the animal, with shortened rein, around the sta 
 ble ; then struck for the woods above, by a course which carried 
 him as far as possible from the house. His object was to gain 
 the road without alarming the senses of the overseer. 
 
 He had proceeded, in this cautious manner, about a hundred 
 yards, when he fancied that he heard a cry, and a sound of 
 voices, brought up by the night wind. 
 
 He paused to listen. The rain had ceased to fall, the wind 
 
50 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 was freshening, a few stars began to peep out, through certait 
 rents, here and there, in the " blanket of the dark," and the 
 prospect was that of a clear morning. Still, the atmosphere 
 was sufficiently damp to form a good medium for the trans 
 mission of sound, and the rising breeze favored the conveyance. 
 The cries were repeated ; and Sinclair was now satisfied that 
 they issued from human throats. 
 
 He hurried his steed onward, still leading him, until he had 
 increased the space between himself and Blodgit s wigwam to 
 some three hundred yards ; then, hiding the animal in a thick 
 bit of wood, not more that fifty yards from the roadside, he 
 coolly took his way back alone toward the cottage, to which 
 the sounds continued to approach from below. They proved 
 to be the shouts of men, doubtless half drunk, who, as they 
 rode, shrieked and yelled like mad; and the heavy tramp of 
 their horses could be heard mingling with their cries. 
 
 The quick, intelligent mind of Sinclair readily conceived the 
 approaching parties to belong to that gang of idle, and, no 
 doubt, outlawed persons, of whom good Mrs. Blodgit had unwit 
 tingly revealed her son s knowledge ; and the major of dragoons 
 " *itly congratulated himself on having so seasonably left the 
 ..able. But he did not, for this, conceive the necessity of imme 
 diate flight. On the contrary, it became a good soldierly policy, 
 just at this juncture, to see who these people were. He relied 
 for his security on his own precautions; on the fact that he 
 could not be tracked during the darkness, and with so much 
 water on the ground. Besides, not being supposed by Blodgit 
 to have left the stable, he held a position of great vantage, which 
 made large odds in his favor, in the event of that worthy design 
 ing any evil against him. Accordingly, he continued to press on 
 toward the cottage, keeping his person covered, wherever he 
 could, by the trees of each of which he seemed U possess an 
 individual knowledge. He finally made his way so closely to 
 the cabin that a few steps, at any moment, would bring him to 
 any quarter of it. 
 
 It was just at this moment, that Pete Blodgit, haying worked 
 up his courage to the striking, or rather to the sticking point, 
 under the counsels of his virtuous dam, was preparing to go 
 forth, pistols at girdle and knife in hand, in the direction of th 
 
THE HELL-FIRE DICKS. 51 
 
 stable. But Pete s courage was not of a very certain quality. 
 lie had reached the door of his wigwam, and opened it, when 
 his ears were saluted by the distant shoutings which had 
 etartled Sinclair. 
 
 "What can that be?" he muttered, instinctively reclosing 
 the door. ^ Another shout, more distinct, showed the cries to be 
 approaching. 
 
 << It s Hell-fire Dick, by the pipers, and I reckon he s got 
 Skin-the-Sarpent and Yallow Janders along with him." 
 
 The shouts now reached his mother s ears. 
 
 "Pete! Pete!" she cried, "there s your fellows, now, and 
 they re just come in time to spile your sport. May the devil 
 take em who sent em !" 
 
 "To spile it! no, indeed! They ve come to help! I 
 reckon Willie Sinclair kain t git off from the gripe of Hell-fire 
 Dick." 
 
 The cowardly heart of Pete Blodgit, which had begun to 
 shrink already at the thought of the encounter he might have 
 with Sinclair, suggested to him an alliance with the ruffian he 
 had named, for the better execution of the task which he hir 
 self feared to perform. But the shrewder avarice of th> 
 woman conceived, in a moment, all the dangers of sucn t . 
 alliance. 
 
 " You re a born fool, Pete Blodgit, ef ever there was one f 
 and when Hell-fire Dick settles with Willie Sinclair, who s 
 guine to make Hell-fire Dick settle with you? Do you reckon 
 on him giving up any of the gould to you, ef so be he does all 
 the work ?" 
 
 " But I ain t- guine to let him do all ! I ll git him to help 
 me, and I ll let him have a share." 
 
 " What sort o share will he give you ? A guinea out of the 
 hundred ! No ! no ! Pete : you don t want no help to settle a 
 sleeping man ! Snake it yourself, Pete ; and don t ax for any 
 help. Don t let Hell-fire Dick and the other fellows know that 
 Willie Sinclair is here. Git em off as soon as you kin, and then 
 do it all by yourself. Give em the rum that they re a coming 
 after ; frr I know you ve got a kag, though you did swear to 
 the major that you hadn t a drop 
 
 " And I hadn t for him, /" 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 enough ! He warn t the person to be told what yv* 
 hed. Let these chaps hev the liquor, and say nothing about 
 the cost ; and ax em for no money, and hide the cards out o 
 sight, and don t offer to play ; but jist you git em off as soon 
 as you kin, and hurry to the business by your one self. Ef you 
 fcin git your own heart strong for it, Pete, the work is easy 
 enough. But you re so mean-sperited. You ve no more heart 
 frr anything than a possum. Oh! ef I was a man! or ef I 
 wasn t jist the same as tied down to the floor by this cussed 
 rheumAtiz, I d never let one of them gould guineas go out of 
 that fodder loft, cept with my consenting." 
 
 The shouting visitors were now at the entrance. The virtuous 
 couple were silent, waiting the summons for admission. Three 
 or four horses galloped heavily up to the wigwam, and with 
 *hout, and whoop, and yell, and halloo, Hell-fire Dick smote 
 ?ipon the door. 
 
 "Hello, in thar, Pete Blodgit ! Up with you, my yaller 
 thicken, and let s see ef you ve got over the pip yit ! Open to 
 the sky-scrapers, and the bouncing wild cats; and hear em 
 scream to beat all nater ! Whoo ! whoo ! whoo ! whoo ! 
 
 " We are the lads o the morning, 
 
 That are off by the peep o day ; 
 And we never take any warning 
 To be off, when the work is play." 
 
 "We are the beautiful sinners of salvation, and don t care for 
 the man that prays. Let s in, Pete ! Open, little fellow, or 
 we ll make your clapboards fly ! Twon t take much to give 
 your cabin a slant ! What say, boys won t a back-and-rush 
 of the nags do it 1 Whoo ! whoo ! open, I say !" 
 
 And bang, bang, upon the door, went the repeated blows 
 from whip and bludgeon ; a perfect storm-chorus of shout and 
 song, and oath and " hellaballoo," echoing the glib speech of 
 the fiery leader of the gang. 
 
 "Hello, out thar! What s the mischief? Who s to come 
 in r was the response of Pete from the house, spoken drawling- 
 ly, with several yawns between, as if he had been roused from 
 sleep. 
 
 " Open to the devil and all his imps !" was the yell. " He s 
 come a ter you at last ! You ve had a honey time, my chick 
 
THE HELL-FIRE DICKS. 53 
 
 en ! Time s up ! Hev to go, lad. No git off now. Hell s 
 hot ! Don t keep your master waiting ! Open, I say ! Whoo ! 
 whoo ! whoop ! Hurrah for old Horny !" 
 
 And Pete was fain to undo the door in short order, to save it 
 from the blows which thun iered upon it, and threatened to drive 
 it from bolt and hinges. Scarcely had the valves parted, Blod- 
 git showing himself at the entrance, when his shoulders were 
 saluted with a smart stroke of Hell-fire Dick s whip, laid on with 
 unction, once, twice, thrice ! 
 
 " The devil smacks sweet and close, Honey Pete," cried the 
 desperado, as he flung himself recklessly from his horse into the 
 hall ; never once heeding the angry cry which Blodgit gave 
 under his sharp infliction. Three other fellows followed the 
 example of their leader, darting in with shout and scream, and 
 flinging their bridles to the victim. 
 
 " Hitch em, Pete ; or, better take em to the stable, and fling 
 em down some fodder. We ll make a short night of it with you. 
 Hitch em first to a swinging limb, and let s have some Jamaica 
 to take the taste of this all-fired rainwater out of our skins. 
 Be spry now, my chicken, and don t keep a gentleman devil 
 a-waiting on your tarrapin motions." 
 
 The old woman groaned aloud from within groaned to 
 make them hear. 
 
 " What the blazes does the old woman grunt about ! Hello, 
 in thar, mammy ! what s the trouble in your intrails, that you 
 give out so tremenjus ?" 
 
 "Trouble enough, you rapscallions, when such tear-devils 
 as you comes about one s house. I wish you was all in the bot 
 tom of the infarnal pit where you re bound for. Git along with 
 you now, arid leave a poor sick body in peace, won t you? 
 Thar s no rum here, I tell you ; thar s nothing here to make 
 you stay." 
 
 " En I d like to see what there is to make us go!" growled 
 bnck one of the ruffians, whom they knew by the nom de guerre 
 of " Skin-the-Serpent." " Shet up, most respectable old lady, 
 and no matter what you do, don t forgit to go decent. A civi) 
 tongue in your head will be all the better of a sick woman. As 
 for no rum, we ll set that P-,t6 Blodgit looks jest where he 
 knows to find it ! 
 
54 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Ef he don t, we ll find him wanting !" 
 
 Yes, indeed ! and whar will he be then 1 We know a trick 
 or two, old lady, to convart your son into a puncheon, and 
 make the red liquor run from him as free as water from the 
 cloud. Ho ! Pete, gi s another candle here. Thar s no seeing 
 how beautiful you air, by this cussed spitting dip. Whoop ! 
 Hoss, be spry ef you wouldn t hev another devil s smack jest 
 on the shoulders whar it s already raw." 
 
 Blodgit obeyed in all things like a beaten hound. He knew 
 his masters They knew their slave. They drove him hither 
 and thither, finding him ceaseless employment, until they were 
 fully engaged upon the rum, which, by this time, he had para 
 ded upon the table. 
 
 Around this each ruffian took his place. Tin cups formed 
 their only drinking vessels. The rum was scarcely mingled 
 with water, dashed only, as it were, apologetically. The two 
 tallow-candles, which smoked and spate, rather than burned 
 upon the board, enable us sufficiently to survey the group 
 which better lights might only have shown to be too hideous 
 for inspection. 
 
 " Hell-fire Dick" he had lost the proprietorship of any more 
 Christian name presided ; his visage, scarred and savage, fully 
 justifying the title which he bore. His eyes were great and 
 rolling, owl-like, in a broad but degraded forehead. The black 
 hair came down over cheeks and neck, worn long to conceal 
 some horrid scars. His lips had been split by stroke of sabre. 
 His teeth projected, very white, like enormous spades. They 
 were his pride ; and he claimed to be as powerful in the gripe 
 of his jaw, as in that of the fist. He was a stout and swarthy 
 giant short, thick, with bull-dog figure and figure-head and 
 a neck, as he himself was apt to boast, quite too short for a 
 rope. Yet, the monster wore a signet-ring whence got, 
 Heaven knows, garnished with skull and cross-bones for crest. 
 It became his deeds. He was one of those scoundrel-pirates of 
 the land like the pirates of the sea, in a previous century 
 who exulted only in the terrors they inspired. He was a noto 
 rious outlaw, one of the few surviving Scophilites a banditti 
 which, at the opening of the revolutionary discontents in Caro 
 iiiia, had carried crime and terror to many a happy homestead 
 
THE HELL-FIRE DICKS. 56 
 
 It would be useless to inquire after the birthplace of such a 
 monster. The earth always breeds such in seasons of civil 
 war. The first we hear of Joel Andrews afterward "Hell- 
 fire Dick" was in Florida. He passed thence through 
 Georgia to Carolina was driven out as an outlaw sought 
 refuge again in Florida, and returned to Carolina, as a loving 
 loyalist, as soon as the British arms had acquired the ascen 
 dency in- that province. 
 
 Sam. Brydone, alias " Skin-the-Serpent," " Eafe Brunson," 
 or "The Trailer," and "Joe Best," were the three companions 
 of " Hell-fire Dick." They were creatures of the same kidney, 
 though of humbler rank as rascals. They never refused to fol 
 low where Dick led ; but they were not the persons to lead 
 while he was to be found. Still, it would be doing great wrong 
 to their abilities to say, that, were he lost to the fraternity, each 
 of them would not be possessed of the necessary faculty to carry 
 on the enterprising business in which they commonly engaged 
 not to fight exactly, but to gather spoils from those who did, 
 was their vocation. They were the vultures in the track of 
 armies the jackals in the wake of the lion ! They were 
 quite free to fight, nevertheless; but never for mere fun. 
 Theirs was a tolerably cool calculation of what was to come of 
 it, before they crossed steel, or lifted rifle. Now, we may say, 
 their purpose, in the visit to Pete Blodgit, was a mere carouse ; 
 to drink, game, swear, sing, howl, or shout away the hours 
 nothing more. They were, just at this moment, in their most 
 amiable phase. In seeking Pete BJodgit s wigwam, they antici 
 pated nothing more than a night of debauchery; the worthy 
 Pete, who, on several scores, enjoyed a sort of virtuous immuni 
 ty with both parties, using his reputation as an innocent man, in 
 driving various pretty little practices, for debauching the troops 
 of both armies., and plucking what pigeons, of either side, he 
 could safely manage. lie contrived to get supplies of rum and 
 sugar lemons occasionally from Charleston, by the heads 
 of Cooper river; and had certain comely associates, in the garri 
 son, who wore, without openly discrediting, the British epau 
 lette. 
 
 Sinclair surveyed this group of scoundrels, at his ease, through 
 the crevices of the :abin. He had some previous knowledge of 
 
56 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 all of them. They had become notorious enough, along the San- 
 tee and Edisto, for the worst crimes in the calendar ; and had 
 been outlawed, under various names, by both Marion and Sum- 
 ter. These partisans had posted them along the wayside, upon 
 blazes of the trees, authorizing all good citizens to arrest, and 
 bring them to camp as felons, and to put them to death if they 
 resisted. While the armies lay below, and were in force along 
 the regions named, these obscene birds kept close in sundry 
 hiding-places. The swamp gave them a refuge quite as secure 
 as it afforded to the patriots. The diversion, to the upper 
 country, of the forces of the patriots and British, had given the 
 outlaws temporary freedom. They were now making fvll use 
 of their brief immunity, and had already shown them 
 selves in various places, which were by no means prepared for 
 them, enacting crime, and inspiring terror, where they can:e. 
 The traveller butchered by day, the farmhouse fired by night . 
 these deeds suddenly shocked and terrified the quiet pre 
 cincts, which, in the diversion of the war from the lower to the 
 upper country, had forgotten some of their precautions 
 
 The sterner passions of Willie Sinclair grew fearfully aroused 
 as he looked in upon the savage group. 
 
 " Would to God I had but half a dozen of my troopers here 
 at this moment!" was his soliloquy, muttered through his 
 clenched teeth. " How freely would I deliver every mother s 
 son of them to the swinging limb ! It is well that I moved so 
 promptly. In that stable-loft, they would have fired it over my 
 head rather than suffer my escape. I could have slain one or 
 more of them no doubt. But I must have perished burned 
 alive or butchered as I sallied forth. Thank God, we have 
 the open woods for it if there is to be any trouble ; and I have 
 the track of them ! But something may be done to increase 
 my securities." 
 
 Thus saying, the major of dragoons, as if confirmed in a pre 
 viously-meditated purpose, moved confidently round to the 
 front of the cottage, and made his way to the tree, to the 
 branches of which Pete Blodgit had fastened the horses of the 
 outlaws. Here he drew from his belt a large and sharp knife, 
 with which he smote off one of the stirrups from each saddle 
 He then slipped the bridle of each steed, and set the animato 
 
THE HELL-FIRE DICKS. 57 
 
 tree, taking the bridles off with him to a thick patch of brush 
 and briers, into which he thrust them all, completely out o^ 
 sight. 
 
 " They ll have work to pick up the horses, and something 
 more to follow with fleet spur. That they will try to pursue, I 
 nothing question. This rascal, Blodgit, will reveal all. lie 
 will desire their help, and, to procure it, will report the gold in 
 my possession. The temptation will be too great for them to 
 resist. They are now sufficiently audacious, and have no no 
 tion that we have any troop below. Still less do they dream 
 of my own squadron upon the Santee, and of the troop of 
 Peyre St. Julien, at Leasuck. Were my own boys but five 
 miles nearer; but they Avill surely be at the Barony by noon 
 to-morrow. Let them pursue, the scoundrels! they can t 
 well get ahead of me, unless the devil helps them ; and I can 
 maintain the Barony against so small a party until help shall 
 arrive." 
 
 From brief muttered soliloquies like these, we may gather 
 the essential clues to the relations of the several parties. Sin 
 clair moved away as he spoke, gave one more look at the out 
 laws at their carousals, then sped off, with steps at once firm 
 and cautious, to the spot where he had fastened his horse. 
 Mounting, he turned the beast out of the woods into the main 
 road, leading upward, and went forward at a moderate trot, as 
 if unapprehensive of the dogs of danger at his heels. 
 
 He had calculated the chances fairly. He was not a moment 
 * soon upon the .-oad. 
 
 3* 
 
53 THE FORAYER3. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ALL-FOURS. 
 
 " THE picters, Pete," said Hell-fire Dick, as he emptied his 
 cup of Jamaica, and handed the vessel to one of his compan 
 ions for a fresh supply. "Bring out the picters." 
 
 "What ah!" was the hesitating answer of Blodgit, show 
 ing no disposition to obey, yet not prepared to adopt the plan 
 of bold denial which his mother had counselled. 
 
 " Well, what the are you gaping about ! The cards, 1 
 
 say!" 
 
 "And I say no playing cards here to-night!" cried the old 
 woman, from within. " Git you off now, all of you, and don t 
 be keeping a poor sick woman a suffering the want of sleep ^be- 
 kaise of sich company as you. I d thank you all to be a riding, 
 and not be making a sick woman sicker by your noise." 
 
 "What s that howling in there, Pete?" said Hell-fire Dick, 
 turning savagely upon the overseer. " Is it any wild animal ?" 
 "It s only the old woman. She s mighty sick, I tell you, and 
 sore with the rheumatiz, and all sorts of sufferings." 
 
 "That s good reason why she shouldn t be sore upon the 
 tongue. Shut up, old woman, unless you d wear a snaffle for 
 the rest of your life, and not wear it too long at that, I ve got 
 a mighty good way of curing a sore tongue. We tried it first 
 on that old hag, mother Gelzer. We routed up her rogue of a 
 husband, one night, and haltered him to the bedpost while we 
 looked into his consarns. The old hag, his wife, kept up the 
 fire so hot, that Skin-the-Sarpent gin her a tap that sent 
 her into the fireplace. But she scrambled out, half blazing and 
 full of ashes, and never seemed to mind the burn at all ; her 
 tongue going worse than ever. Sarpent wanted to cut her 
 tongue out ; but I showed him how the thing was to be done. 
 
ALL-FOURS. 59 
 
 I slipped a snaffle into her jaws firmly bitted her and by a 
 hitch back of the ears, made of deers sinews, made as good a 
 4af>asever took the heel of a troublesome colt! She a-most 
 gnawed through tongue and snaffle both, but it stood : and it s 
 surprising how quiet she was after that. Let your mammy 
 hear -that history, Pete, and she ll may be grow more sensible 
 than to put in, when men s upon business with one another." 
 
 It did not need that Pete should repeat the history. His 
 amiable mother had heard every syllable. But the fate of 
 mother Gelzer did not discourage her tongue in its habitual 
 exercise ; particularly when she thought of the night rapidly 
 escaping, and the chances of Willie Sinclair s getting off safely 
 with the hundred guineas. 
 
 " I ain t afeared of your hitch, you onmannered rascal ; only 
 you try it on me, and ef you never had the taste of a raw knife 
 in your witals before, you ll have it then. Ef Pete Blodgit 
 wasn t the most mean-sperrited fellow in the world, he d never 
 stand thar, and let any beast on two legs say imperdent things 
 to his poor old mother what s got the rheumatiz. Oh ! ef I 
 was only able to lift a leg, you wouldn t be heving sich carry 
 ings on in any house whar I was the mistress. Here, Pete 
 Pete Blodgit, I say come in here to me !" 
 
 " And I say, Pete Blodgit," answered Hell-fire Dick, " do 
 you stay here with me ; and I say, get out the picters here, in 
 double quick time, if you wouldn t have sich a spur in your re- 
 dicilous ribs as will make you think a thousand wild cats was 
 a travelling through you." 
 
 "Feeling s believing, Pete," cried Skin-the-Serpent, taking 
 the overseer by the nape of the neck, and spinning him round 
 the floor like a tee-to-tum. "Thar !" continued the fellow, "do 
 you onderstand now that we want the picters?" 
 
 "And will heo* em!" echoed Ralph Brunson, following up 
 the game, and spinning the fellow round in the opposite direc 
 tion. Then, grappled in like manner by Joe Best, Pete execu 
 ted such revolutions as a drunken man sees going on in the 
 heavens as he goes home on a starry night. 
 
 "I ll git em! I ll git the kairds only gi me a chaince ! 
 Lord ha marcy, men, you re all so rambunctious! 
 
 The poor devil could no more have seconded the manhood 
 
60 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 of his mother, than he could undertake the journey on Alborak 
 to Mahomet s Paradise. 
 
 " Quick about it, then, pretty Pete ; we wants to be doing/ 
 The cards soon made their appearance : a well-thumbed 
 pack, greasy and ragged by repeated use, and with his majes 
 ty s face, well smutted, upon them. 
 
 " The Jack of Spades is a gentleman," cried Hell-fire Dick, 
 seizing them across the table and yelling out the chorus of a 
 gaming party well known in that day in which Joe Best, who 
 prided himself on a voice, took up the strain, and fairly outdid 
 the chief ruffian of the group. 
 
 " The Jack of Spades is a gentleman, 
 And he loves to drink and play, 
 And he flings the dice with look that says, 
 What ho! let the devil pay! " 
 
 The song, bravely begun by the master-spirit of the gang, 
 was silenced by the same imperious person when he found 
 that he was not suffered to officiate as prime minister. Hell- 
 fire Dick whom we shall hereafter call by the less offensive 
 phrase into which his nom de guerre was subdued by certain of 
 his companions "^1/Z-fire Dick" with a roar and stamp of 
 the foot, now cried out : 
 
 "Blast it, Joe Best, you think yourself a raal mocking-bird ; 
 and hev such a conceit of your pipes that you don t know 
 when to stop when you begin. Git out your pewter, old fellow, 
 and let your pipes alone. Change is mighty scarce, boys. I m 
 a-wanting some. Blodgit, what money hev you got V 
 
 Blodgit groaned, remembering the treasure only so recent 
 ly transferred to Willie Sinclair s safe keeping groaned pit- 
 eously. 
 
 " What s that grunt about ! But, go long, Spoony, and put 
 up the critters, and give em a bite ; and be back as soon as 
 you kin. We ll want you to bring out your money pouch, 
 pretty Pete." 
 
 It was the old woman, this time, who groaned within. She, 
 
 too, had heard *h., speech of the ruffian, and her memories were 
 
 equally distresd u: on the subject of the lost treasure lost, but 
 
 still supposei to p in the stable, and available upon conditions. 
 
 What! the old woman still has a tongue! Well! she 
 
ALL-FOURS. 61 
 
 may grunt with it as much as she pleases, and we ll scuse it on 
 the score of the rheumatiz. But, don t let her be talking, Pete, 
 for as sure as thunder, if she worries our ears, we ll try the 
 snaffle upon her !" 
 
 " The onrighteous villains !" muttered the old woman, as she 
 heard the warning, uttered specially for her ears. " And they d 
 do it, too, they would ! I knows em ; and that poor mean- 
 sperrited son of mine, would stand by and see them hitch his 
 own mother up by the tongue, and never be the man to out- 
 knife, and stick, right and left, to save me from it ! Oh ! ef 1 
 was a man !" 
 
 Here again she called to Pete, but in whining tones of en 
 treaty, as of one suffering. 
 
 "Pete, Pete Blodgit come in here." 
 
 " Can t, old lady," answered All-fire Dick ; " He s got to 
 see after the horses. Then he s got to bring out his shillings 
 and continentals and 1 arn ho\v to be a gentleman by losing his 
 money." 
 
 " He s got no money, I tell you !" cried the old woman, for 
 getting her subdued accents. 
 
 " No ! as I m a living sinner, I haint got no money." 
 
 And the pair groaned in sympathy together. 
 
 " Psho, boy ! don t be lying ! Don t we know yon ve been 
 selling a smart chaince of corn and fodder, and got the shiners 
 for it. We ve got sharp eyes upon you, Pete, and must go 
 snacks, boy. But we ll play fair. Winning aint thieving, 
 cording to our laws and edication and you shall have as good 
 a chaince at our pouches as we have at your n ! Suppose 
 your n is the fullest? What of that] a purse is a purse, 
 boys " 
 
 " Ay, ay ! That s good law !" 
 
 " And thar s as much satisfaction to a man that love s to do 
 a thing handsome, in winning a penny as in winning a pound. 
 Taint the amount that you win, Pete, that give s the satisfac 
 tion ; it s the pleasure of beating one s innimy ; it s the fun 
 to beat the beater to be the best man on the ground, and to 
 be able to slap your sides and crow like a red-gill d rooster 
 Coo-coo-roo-coo ! Coo-coo-roo-coo-a / while all the rest of the 
 i-j-owd stands by, and don t know whether to cry or to laugh I 
 
fi2 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 That s it, Pete; so don t be a sneak and don t mind the dif 
 ference twixt your pouch and mine, which is the heaviest. It s 
 ytwr n now it s mine to-morrow! What then? we ve had 
 the play, old boy ; and we ve done our best, and the glory s 
 thar, Pete, though the guineas may be gone ! Thanks to the 
 stars and moon, Pete, we know you ve got the gould, and that s 
 why you see us here to-night ! You don t think we d ha come, 
 and troubled your spectable mammy, in these late hours, ef 
 we didn t know that you d got so much good goulden guineas, 
 as wouldn t suffer you to have your nateral sleeps. But, fill 
 your glass, Pete ; hyar s to you ; and big stakes about the 
 board ; and the jack of spades for ever !" 
 
 Pete groaned again, and the mother groaned also from with 
 in. They felt that their game was twixt hawk and buzzard. 
 If the gold was to be wormed out of Sinclair s pockets, through 
 his heart, what should save it from such ruffians as these who 
 now declared their knowledge of the overseer s possessions. 
 On all sides the ruin seemed inevitable, and the ready instincts 
 of mother and son conceived their predicament at a glance. In 
 very despair, Pete obeyed the invitation of All-fire Dick, seized 
 upon a cup and swallowed a heavy potation of the unadulter 
 ated Jamaica at a gulp. 
 
 " That s going it strong, Pete," quoth Skin-the-Serpent, " and 
 shows that you re gitting your courage up for a great game." 
 
 " The sooner the better," said All-fire Dick. " And so, Pete, 
 pat up the horses and come up to the scratch." 
 
 Here Joe Best struck up a stave : 
 
 " The horse to the rack, 
 
 And the mouth to the oan, 
 A laughing lass, and a foaming glass, 
 And merry s the life of man." 
 
 " Psho ! Shut up, Joe Best, you are too d d musical fo 
 one s hearing." 
 
 All-fire Dick was something of a despot. He kept his fol 
 lowers in pretty tight bonds, only tolerated as they found hii 
 a profitable desperado. 
 
 " Away, Pete, with the horses, and the sooner you re bacl 
 the sooner we come to our rights. Be off. Drive on, Sarpenl 
 spade s trump ! my suit, and I l v>rk you this time!" 
 
ALL-FOURS. 63 
 
 Pete disappeared. The game proceeded. The old. woman 
 groaned aloud as she heard the door close behind her son, and 
 the ruffians yelled back to her in derision. But many minutes 
 had not elapsed, when Pete was heard again at the door. 
 " Whar did we hitch the critters ?" he asked. 
 "Where did you hitch them, Sneak?" was the answer, 
 " What the d 1 do you mean 1 Can t you find them 1" 
 
 " Well, I thought twas to the water oak ; but they re not 
 thar now." 
 
 "You re drunk, Pete look about you! You ve barked up 
 the wrong tree. Take the lantern." 
 
 " N > ! don t need ! The stairs are a-shining." 
 Well, look about you. It s the Jamaica that blinds your 
 eyes. Take another pull and see cl ar. What trumps, Sar- 
 pent ? You re strong in spades, this time." 
 " Reckon 1 am ! What do you say to that !" 
 "Brimstone! Cotch d my jack, by the pipers. But we ll 
 count for game ; thar s low" 
 
 Pete, meanwhile, had again disappeared; but not for long, 
 fte soon returned ; this time, after making a discovery which 
 ^as by no means calculated to dissipate his own disquiet, while 
 t fully awakened that of his uninvited guests. 
 " The critters are all off and look thar !" 
 As he spoke, he threw upon the table the four stirrups, each 
 viih a fragment of the leather, which Willie Sinclair had cut 
 Tom the several saddles. 
 
 " What the b s that !" cried All-fire Dick, starting up, in 
 Jiixed rage and consternation. 
 
 I reckon it s the starrups of every saddle of the crowd." 
 There was general consternation, and a horrid confusion of 
 tongues, as each man singled out his own. 
 " And whar did you find these ?" 
 " Under the oak where I hitched the critters." 
 " And the horses ?" 
 " Gone ! They re off somewhar !" 
 
 " Brimstone and fire ! Who the h1 have you had fcere to- 
 light, Pete Blodgit ? who s about ? They rushed out en mow 
 is the inquiry was made. 
 "Nobody but Willie Sinclair!" 
 
64 THE PORATERS. 
 
 Blodgit made the response reluctantly ; but his invention 
 offered him no means of evasion, and a prompt answer was es 
 sential to his own safety. Had a bolt from heaven fallen that 
 moment at their feet, it could not have confounded them more. 
 
 "Willie Sinclair!" was the unanimous exclamation, and 
 each man griped his pistol. 
 
 " Willie Sinclair here !" cried All-fire Dick, seizing the over 
 seer by the throat, and drawing back intuitively into the shad 
 ow of the house and out of the light of the doorway through 
 which the candles cast a feeble gleam. 
 
 " Hark ye, you dirty skunk, ef you re playing me false, I ll 
 slit your throat from ear to ear, in the twink of an eye !" 
 
 " I aint playing you false it s true !" 
 
 " Why didn t you tell us Willie Sinclair was here ? When 
 was he here? Where was he hiding? Speak you eternal 
 flea-skip before I " 
 
 * Oh ! jest loose my throat !" was the gurgling and choking 
 speech " and I ll tell you all ! I will !" 
 
 " The truth, you rascally sneak, and nothing but the truth." 
 
 " So help me God." 
 
 " Well ! out with it." 
 
 The fellow told them all, not even suppressing the facts about 
 the buried treasure. The groans of his soul, once permitted, 
 emptied their prison-house ! 
 
 " Grimini ! most on to a hundred guineas ! and we ve been 
 a-fooling away the time, when we might have been filling our 
 pockets ! And he s in the stable ?" 
 
 " Yes ! I lock d him up safe. Thar s the key." 
 
 " Dick ! boys ! Let s at him right away." 
 
 "Psho ! Sarpent," replied the leader of the outlaws "You re 
 almost as great a fool as Blodgit. Do you expect to find Will 
 Sinclair in the stable-loft now ? Do you reckon he d go back 
 there, after cutting off our stirrups and turning loose the horses ? 
 He s too keen for that. He d be as great a fool as you ef he 
 did." 
 
 " But how did he git out ?" asked " Serpent" simply enough ; 
 " when here Blodgit s got the key of the stable." 
 
 " Well, in a hundred ways. He shot back the bolt from the 
 nside, or Blodgit forgot to lock." 
 
ALL-POURS. 65 
 
 41 No, I didn t forgit ; and the bolt s a covered one ; lie couldn t 
 git at it with knife or finger." 
 
 "He has certainly got out, and done this mischief, or there s 
 some other inimy about us ! Are you sure, Blodgit, that he 
 came alone." 
 
 " I never seed but him. Thar s no telling !" 
 
 " Ten to one he had nigger Bram at his heels, and kept him 
 back as a spy on Blodgit. It may be Bram let the horses 
 loose. 
 
 "Thei:, it may be that Sinclair s still in the stable." 
 " We ll soon see to that ! Look you, Joe Best, take Ralph 
 Brunson with you, and look up the horses. I and Sarpent 
 will see after Sinclair. If lie s in the stable yit, I ll take th 3 
 change out of him, though I have to put the lightwood splinters 
 to the nest. Sec to the horses, Joe. The only wonder is he 
 didn t cut their throats instead of the stirrups. I know that 
 would ha been my game. Come on, Sarpent. That key, 
 Pete!" 
 
 "Mustn t I come?". 
 
 " For what ? What kin you do ? Stay here, lad, and, like 
 * good son, tend to your spectable mammy. She may want 
 you. Keep close. Keep your eyes right till we come back; 
 for, as sure as we catch you sneaking about us, Pete, we ll slit 
 your gullet ! Do you hear ? I m jubous of you, boy ! as for 
 Sinclair and the guineas, if they re not gone, look to me to ac 
 count for them. You shall have a chaince, Pete," 
 
 Pete retired groaning to the cabin, where his mother pro 
 vided a commentary of sufficient length and bitterness upon his 
 " mean sperrit." The guineas were evidently gone, as regard- 
 ed their hopes ; and they now rejoiced in the belief that Sin 
 clair had gone off with them. 
 
 "The Lord in his marcies grant that Willie Sinclair s off" 
 groaned the old woman. "It s his gould and his sister s, and 
 he s got the right to it !" 
 
 It is surprising how instinctively the feeling of honesty rise* 
 
 into the heart, when there is no longer a possibility of playing 
 
 the rogue profitably. Mrs. Blodgit s religious feelings grew it, 
 
 the ascendant when the spoils of robbery were no longer within 
 
 each. She now, for the first time, began to perceive the 
 
66 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 full extent >f the evils following the blind cupidity of herself 
 and son. 
 
 " But it s not the loss of the gould, Pete. That s not all. 
 But Willie Sinclair now knows all. He ll never trust you 
 ? gin. He ll turn us out. He ll take away the keys, the corn, 
 the fodder, the hogs, and he ll let Marion s men know that 
 you re no Letter than a tory ! Pete Blodgit, what a fool you 
 was to try to cheat the man that s been the making of you ! 
 Oh ! you re about the foolishest, most meansperrited crittov, 
 to be a white man, that ever lived twixt the Santee and the 
 Edisto." 
 
 " Oh ! mammy, you oughtn t to say that ! You know you 
 told me to, and made me give you the bag of Spanish dollars. 
 
 "And it s well I did! where d they be now, if I hedn U 
 And ef you had trusted your poor old mother with the gould, 
 as well as the silver, we d ha had it now, you meansperrited " 
 
 " Hush ! They re a-coming back !" 
 
 Pete hastened out of the chamber to open for the party. The 
 horses had been found. They had employed themselves quietly 
 in picking the long grasses about the ruined building, and were 
 easily caught. But each was bridleless, and Joe Best and 
 Brunson busied themselves in looking up Pete s stores of rope 
 and leath er, with the hope to provide substitutes for present 
 use. They rightly anticipated the purpose of All-fire Dick 
 and Skin-tli3-S:rpent, to pursue a fugitive wito carried a hun 
 dred guireas a 4 his girdle. 
 
PURSUIT ANI PASTURAGE. 67 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PURSUIT AND PASTURAGE. 
 
 WE, who already know that the outlaws must be disappointed 
 in their search after Sinclair in the stable, must not be surprised 
 to learn that All-fire Dick and the Serpent made their ap 
 proaches to that supposed fortress with the caution of old sol 
 diers. They knew their man ; and quite as well knew how 
 formidable would be his defence, if wakeful, in such a position, 
 armed, as he was known to be, with sword and pistols. Blodgit 
 had also apprized them of the three muskets, and the powder and 
 ball. He had relieved his own griefs, by telling his whole story. 
 Their hope lay chiefly in taking Sinclair by surprise, if still in 
 the stable ; though the sagacity of the outlaws readily conceived 
 the improbability of such a case ; unless, indeed, the practice 
 upon their steeds had been done by other hands than those of 
 Sinclair. This was not improbable, and there was still a possi- 
 bilky of finding him asleep, and unsuspicious, in his nest. 
 
 They^ stole upon it, therefore, with the wariness of the wild 
 cat finding his way into the poultry-yard. Blodgit s key was 
 well oiled, and they penetrated the stable without making the 
 slightest noise. We need not report their progress how they 
 " snaked" through the stable, and " snaked" through the loft, 
 and "w<mt on their bellies," for their pains! Enough that, 
 after having exercised the nicest vigilance in searching the 
 premises, they found the nest empty the bird flown ! 
 
 " We might have known it," quoth All-fire Dick, " knowing 
 the man, and seeing that his horse is gone." 
 
 " What s to be done ?" asked the Serpent. 
 
 "Done!" was the fierce response, "why, give chase as fast 
 as may be ! Are we to lose a hundred guineas without a ride 
 for it ? He s gone, no doubt, up the road to the Barony to his 
 father s. There s no other route for him to take to-night. If 
 
68 THE FORAYER8. 
 
 his horse was fresh he might push on farther knowing we re 
 here, and thinking we might be after him soon. It s cl ar he 
 had some such notion of it, by his cutting the stirrup-leathers. 
 He s heavy loaded powder, bullets, muskets, and gould ! 
 He ll ride slow. We must overhaul him in nine miles." 
 " That is, if we find the horses." 
 
 Ay ! d n him ! Look you, Sarpent, I ve a most etarnal 
 hate for that same Willie Sinclair. I hate him bekaise he s a 
 gentleman; and he makes you feel it. I know d him, and 
 sarved under him once, and the very look of him made my 
 blood bile in my veins. I ve got his tracks. I ve found out 
 one of his hiding-places in Four-Hole Swamp. I tracked that 
 big-backed fellow, Jim Ballou, thar, and know the signs. I 
 shall track him thar some of these days, and twon t be his 
 money that shall save him, I tell you, or his fine gentleman 
 airs, whenever I can get a fair dig at his ribs. But that s for 
 another time. Let s hurry off now, and start the boys." 
 
 The horses, we have mentioned, were found by the other 
 two, greatly to the satisfaction of their leader. It was no pleas- 
 . ant arrangement, however, that which found them compelled to 
 pursue without stirrups, and with plough-line bridles: nay, 
 hardly these for one of the fellows rode wholly without bridle 
 of any sort. But the evil lay mostly in the embarrassment. 
 There was not one of the outlaws who was not quite as familiar 
 to the horse as an Arab who ?ould not have ridden him fear 
 lessly, glued, as it were, to his 3ack without harness of any 
 kind. It was but to clap the k.iees close to his quarters, wreath 
 a hand in a wisp of the mane, ,hrow*the body forward, and yell 
 out like a wildcat on a charivari, and the pace, if a killing one, 
 was so rather to horse than rider. Our outlaws, accordingly, 
 though furious at the trick played on them, and the injury done 
 to their equipments, were yet not wholly hors du combat. Sin 
 clair s operations had only retarded, not prevented, the pursuit. 
 But the delay was something gained to him, in the jaded condi 
 tion of his steed, the burden which he had to carry, and the 
 wearied state of the rider. 
 
 The outlaws allowed no unnecessary time for consultation. 
 They were all men of prompt action, and their arrangements 
 were soon made. When about to start, Pete Blodgit was 
 
PURSUIT AND PASTURAGE. 69 
 
 suddenly seen to appear on horseback among them. His 
 resolution had been taken at the suggestion of his amiable 
 mother, who, in the event of Sinclair being taken, was duly 
 anxious that her son should be present at the division of the 
 spoils. Not that she deluded herself with the idea that he could 
 coerce the outlaws into any consideration of his claims. But 
 something she thought might be done by whining well know 
 ing that, though we may brain the insolent mastiff, or the 
 barking cur, AVC cast a bone to the lean hound who only looks 
 up with pitifully pleading visage. This was now the lean hops 
 of the innocent couple ! 
 
 But All-fire Dick was not prepared to accord this one chance 
 to the miserable Pete. 
 
 " You here ! Git back to your hole. Slink, if you wouldn t 
 taste cowhide, fasting." 
 
 "I thought you d let me ride with you, Cappin Dick," hum 
 bly answered the sneak. 
 
 "None of your Cappin Dicks with me. I m no cappin 
 I m Hell-fire Dick to friends and inirnies. Let you ride with 
 us ! and what good are you ? Kin you fight 1 If you had the 
 liver of a man would you have let Willie Sinclair strip you of 
 every shilling? Git back to your hole before I lace yor~ 
 with a red riband stripe for every inch of white skin on your 
 back." 
 
 The counsel was enforced by a couple of strokes which ,,ent 
 the wretch off in a twink. The next moment, with a shrill 
 whistle, the outlaws were on the road and away. 
 
 But Pete Blodgit was not to be left behind. Spite of the ter 
 rors of cowhide, he was resolved to be in at the fleecing of the 
 victim ; and, grinning under his smarts, as well of mind as of 
 body for such an animal does suffer from a sort of shame and 
 sense of despicableness he pushed his horse forward, suffi 
 ciently in the rear of the pursuing party to escape their notice, 
 yet sufficiently close to be able to overcome any interval of 
 space, in tolerably short time, should the others be able to 
 overhaul the fugitive. Pete had really no definite hope or ob 
 ject in thus joining the pursuit ; but nothing short of the ter 
 rors of death could have overcome the painful fascination of 
 the adventure. Merely to see the gold of which he had been 
 
70 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 deprived even though he should see every piece of it pass 
 into other hands was something better than never to gloat 
 over it again. 
 
 He rode accordingly: sometimes forgetting himself, and 
 sparring eagerly ahead then, under some prudent precau 
 tionary fear, dropping behind into a walk, and preparing to 
 shroud himself in the bushes, should the outlaws, par hazard, 
 Fall suddenly back upon him. 
 
 They, meanwhile, went at the top of their speed. A wild 
 chase, no doubt, but not without its calculations. Assuming 
 Sinclair to have had an hour s start of them, he had covered 
 some five miles of ground. To overtake him was possible; but 
 rhey conjectured readily what would be his policy in that event. 
 He must take to the \voods; and, in his doing so, lay their bet 
 ter chance of securing him, since, throwing themselves between 
 him and the Barony, cutting him offTrom that shelter, their 
 game was to beat the woods, in broad daylight, until he was 
 found. They were keen dogs for a warm scent, and did not 
 despair of finding him by daylight. Besides, they could com 
 mand the use of hounds, practised in the pursuit of men ; and, 
 even as they rode, they calculated on the necessity of sending 
 off one of their party, by dawn, down to the kennel of Zeke 
 Rodgers, one of their confederates, some five miles off. To an 
 ticipate Sinclair, in his attempt to gain the Barony, was their 
 present object ; arid, whether they passed him on the road or 
 not, was by no means a consideration, since the whole of the 
 next day was before them, and they had no knowledge of mili 
 tary parties, anywhere about, to interfere with their pleasant 
 pastime in the hunt. Their policy was an obvious. one. 
 
 Sinclair, a man of great woodland resources, readily anticipa 
 ted all these calculations of the outlaws, if once they undertook 
 pursuit. But he calculated his own policy also. He did not 
 push his beast beyond a trot during the hour which he had been 
 upon the road ; and, at the close of this period, he suffered him 
 to subside into a walk. Thus quietly moving, he was better 
 able to take in distant sounds, than if he had suffered the hoof:3 
 of his own steed to beat up the ears of silence. 
 
 Nimrod was a good walker, and the difference between his 
 \valk and jog-trot was not considerable, lie had, accordingly, 
 
PURSUIT AND PASTURAGE. 71 
 
 compassed some eight miles of his progress, when his rider 
 caught the sounds of pursuit upon the wind. He instantly took 
 the \voods; but not, as the pursuers anticipated, on that side. of 
 the road upon which the baronial settlement of his father lay; 
 but the opposite. This procedure, as differing entirely from 
 the natural suggestions in all similar cases, was designed to put 
 the pursuit at fault. Sinclair, in the opposite woods, was un> 
 suspected. The only disadvantage that lay in the adoption of 
 this plan, was in the necessity which it compelled, of making a 
 greater circuit than otherwise would have been requisite, and 
 of exposing the fugitive, for a moment or two, out of cover, 
 while again crossing the road to recover the region whither his 
 flight was directed. But this necessity did not seem to involve 
 much peril, since he could choose his own place and moment 
 for the attempt. 
 
 Satisfied on this score, and that he was sufficiently sheltered 
 by the dense forest in which he had taken refuge, our hero s 
 policy now was, to suffer the pursuers to pass him, and to be 
 sure of this fact himself. With this object, he rode his horse a 
 h inn! red yards into the wood, then alighted, fastened him to a 
 bough, and coolly took a bee-line back to the road, on the very 
 edge of which he covered himself closely, among a clump of 
 scrubby oaks. Here, " squat like a toad," he waited, without 
 apprehension, the approach of the outlaws. It was only with 
 a slight quickening of the tides about his heart, that he saw 
 them at length heave in sight, one after the other, four dark 
 and hurrying shadows, going at a smart canter, and whirling 
 along without the slightest heed of the spot where he harbored. 
 He suffered them to pass out of sight and hearing before he 
 prepared to rise ; and, just when he was about to do so, his keen 
 ears caught the sound of another horse coming from below. 
 
 " Ha ! If this should be Peyre St. Julien, now, with his 
 troop, how we shall make the feathers of these rascals fly." 
 
 Our major of dragoons waited, still crouching in his cover, to 
 seo the approaching party. It was not his friend and comrade 
 St. Julien. 
 
 "Blodgit, as I live!" 
 
 He knew him by his horse, which was unfavorably marked, 
 in the estimation of the jockeys, by fouiMvhite feet. 
 
72 THE FORAYEBS. 
 
 " Four white feet," quoth Sinclair, repeating a proverb 
 " give him to the crows." 
 
 Blodgit passed slowly at a jog-trot. Sinclair readily con 
 ceived the secret of the latter s progress. 
 
 "They have refused to let him join them in the chase; but 
 he hankers after his share of the guineas. Fool ! they would 
 slit his weasand before they would let him have a stiver." 
 
 Blodgit was suffered to pass out of sight also, before our fugi 
 tive rose from cover, and picked his way back to the spot where 
 he had hitched his horse. Here, he restrapped, more secure 
 ly, his sack of powder ; rearranged his whole equipment ; tight 
 ened his girth, reprimed his pistols; then coolly resumed his 
 progress, using but the one precaution of moving onward, at 
 such a depth in the cover of the woods, as to keep him from 
 alarming any person that might happen to be watching along 
 the road. Fortunately, the region was a familiar one; his old 
 stamping-ground, distinguished in his memory, by many a 
 squirrel and coon hunt, when a boy, and by numerous achieve 
 ments of a more exciting kind, when, grown to man s estate 
 
 " With horse and hound, to strike the deer, 
 The hunter took his way." 
 
 Confident, therefore, of his course, Sinclair proceed 3d as 
 leisurely and coolly as if untroubled by any apprehension. 
 Perfect silence brooded over his path. The cool ah? cf morn 
 ing were freshening in the wood the stars were lessening 
 above, waning or stealing out of sight. The route was dark 
 enough to render his forest progress slow; but he betrayed, and 
 really felt, few anxieties. So perfectly assured was he of his 
 whereabouts, that, when on a line with the great avenue of the 
 Barony, he stopped short, and, looking about him, soon found n 
 little Indian trail which he knew conducted to it ; but he had 
 no purpose to pursue it, and, still pushing forward, he wen 
 fully half a mile above, before he inclined once more toward 
 the high road. When within speaking distance of it, he 
 paused, and gathered up his several clues of thought. 
 
 " These rascals take for granted that I am harbored in the 
 woods below. They will skirt the lower edge of the plantation, 
 covering themselves along the skirts of the open fields and 
 
PURSUIT AND PASTURAGE. 73 
 
 avenue, to intercept me as I approach. Such are the proba 
 bilities. Well well !" 
 
 And the major of dragoons drew near to the road, slowly, 
 very slowly, with ears keenly set for the wind, and eyes peer 
 ing into the solid darkness that now rose up like a wall across 
 the route only thirty yards beyond. Thus, looking and listen 
 ing, he went forward boldly, and crossed the road in safety, 
 unseen of mortal eyes. 
 
 He found himself now in a dense forest, half a mile above the 
 avenue, but still forming a part of the immense baronial estate 
 of his father. He advanced into the thicket a full quarter of a 
 mile, then turned the head of his horse downward, and made 
 for the negro settlement. This lay on the edge of a wood, 
 which formed an admirable physical barrier on the east, front 
 ed an open indigo-field, in cultivation, upon the west, and by a 
 narrow lane, between the field and the negro-houses, conducted 
 to the mansion, and the adjacent buildings ; all of which lay 
 buried in a world of evergreens at the close of a long and 
 noble avenue of stately forest-trees, elms, water-oaks, and 
 pines. 
 
 Ben Bowlegs was the driver, or orderly-sergeant of Colonel 
 William Sinclair, of Cherokee war memory. Ben, himself, had 
 been through the Cherokee war, as a henchman of his master. 
 Ben was an old soldier, accordingly, and made a first-rate plan 
 tation orderly.. He had but one grand idea as a planter, and 
 that lay in a single word; but that word, like the potent 
 " sesame" of the Arabian tale, involved a large body of practi 
 cal philosophy. "Push !" was the whole sum of Ben s policy. 
 Push at the beginning, push at the middle, push at the end ; be 
 always pushing ! And Ben s pushing made crops ! But he did 
 not spare himself in pushing others. Ben carried out his princi- 
 oles into practice. He never slept on performances done, as 
 aegroes and common people are very apt to do. He passed to 
 aew ones. He was a moral steam-engine, working huisdf, and 
 driving every one ahead. He pushed his master, as well as his 
 brother-slaves ; and assigned him his tasks with the pertinacity 
 of one who was resolved to be something more than a counsel 
 lor. His reverence for his master was n^ver such as simply to 
 endeavor to please, him. Ben Bowlegs delivered the truth in 
 
 4 
 
74 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 spite of consequences. Was Colonel Sinclair about to blunder 1 
 Ben interposed abruptly enough, with 
 
 " Look yer, maussa, ef you wants to play h-11 wid de crop, 
 da s jist de way for do urn. Better now, you go see arter dem 
 bloodlmuss in de pastur . Dat d -n son ob a skunk, Toby, he 
 nebber does jussice [justice] to dem young hauss. Da s what 
 you to see arter ! Leff de crap to you driber. You kin truss 
 him r 
 
 But, thus irreverent to his old master, Ben was quite another 
 porson when dealing with the young one. His love, here, sup 
 plied the place of reverence ; and his admiration was of such a 
 sort as to deprive him of all his critical acumen, when he had 
 to judge of young Willie s opinions and performances. We 
 need not attempt to account for his passion for " young Mass 
 Willie." Enough, that the fact is unquestionable. And now, 
 to show our purpose in introducing the driver to our readers at 
 this moment. 
 
 Ben Bowlegs, whether because of some natural aversion to 
 the sex, or because of the mature period of sixty-two to which 
 he had arrived, was wifeless and childless. He was perhaps, 
 too well pleased to be a master, to suffer himself to fall under 
 the rule of any mistress. Ben dwelt, accordingly, in single- 
 blessedness, in a very snug cottage, that occupied a salient 
 angle, ranging at very nearly equal distances from Jie negro- 
 houses and the corn-crib. A little grove, and a small turnip- 
 patch, separated him from the yard in which the mansion-house 
 stood. The distance was not considerable from either of these 
 points. Ben s wigwam stood upon pillars of pitch-pine, about 
 three feet from the ground. You might approach it all the 
 way from the confines of the forest under cover of sheltering 
 evergreens. These particulars will sufficiently explain certain 
 matters which we have now to evolve. 
 
 Well ! Ben being the sole occupant of his house, it may be 
 supposed that he slept in tolerable comfort. He usually slept 
 well. 
 
 " Praise de Lawd !" was his occasional exclamation, " dere s 
 no woman yer to bodder me ! Bressings ob de Lawd, dere s no 
 eli ill en to dribe de slpep from my eye ! I kin hab my sleep 
 when de night c )ine, and nebber ax no body for le me Ion 
 
PURSUIT AND PASTURAGE. 7,5 
 
 No man ever had a more profound sense of his good fortune. 
 in these respects, than Ben Bowlegs ; and no one, surely, ever 
 more devoutly acknowledged the beneficence of Providence in 
 affording him these sufficient causes of gratitude ! Ben slept 
 alone, slept well, and always awoke early. While his young 
 master, Willie Sinclair, was dodging the outlaws, Ben s nose 
 was making famous bugle-sounds in his cottage wasting its 
 music " on the desert air," indeed ; but, without any cavilling 
 spirit to rebuke its free privileges. Ben had, accordingly, ac 
 complished the largest amount of necessary sleep a good hour 
 before the dawning of the day. He was now wakeful, and med 
 itating what was to be done that day in the fields. Touching 
 the tobacco, there was a weeding of the weed to be done ; corn 
 there was the last hoeing: the corn was nearly made; some 
 earnest meditations employed him in respect to a little patch 
 of rice ; and there were sundry interests which naturally exer 
 cised the mind of our model driver, particularly as Colonel Sin 
 clair, who was himself a very good planter, employed no over 
 seer. It was while busy with his field and farmyard problems 
 *hat Ben Bowlegs was suddenly startled into a new conscious 
 ness, by a certain mysterious rapping upon the floor. beneath 
 him. He listened and rubbed his eyes. The rapping was re 
 peated. 
 
 " Lawd Gimini ! it s young maussa !" 
 
 He jumped out of bed in a twinkle, stooped to the floor, 
 raised the section of a plank, and our major of dragoons slowly 
 shot nj), from a rather humble posture, into his full height, and 
 scrambled deftly into the apartment. It was very evident that 
 the major and the driver had been at the same mysterious play 
 before. Ben caught his master s hand joyfully, and shook it 
 with a fiercely-loving gripe. 
 
 " Grad for see you, Mass Willie no look for you clis time, 
 but mighty grad for see you ! T ink you bin gone wid tie socl- 
 gers up into de mountains. But grad for see you yer. Grad 
 for tell you, sir, all s well yer, cept de ole colonel, dat s got 
 de debbil and all-fire in his foot ag in ! But Miss Carrie s like 
 a rose in de morning, and little Lottie is anoder leetle rose in 
 >le morning; and ebbry pusson dat you carss to yer bout is 
 most astonislrng, charming well, cept, as I say, de ole colonel 
 
76 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 rtnd de fire in he foot makes him bile ober ebbry now and den, 
 and it s mighty hard for a spectable gentleman to stan* him 
 when he s in his ondecent passion ! And how s you, Mass 
 Willie ? How s you bin 1 Lord delibber me, but it does seem 
 as ef you was nebber to be done growing. You re a foot taller, 
 I m a-t inking, then when you went off in de spring !" 
 
 And Ben the Bowlegged wheeled the young major about, 
 making due presentation of him to every point of the compasH, 
 until he had satisfied himself that, in growing taller, his young 
 master had lost nothing of that symmetry which had rendered 
 him perfect in his eyes before. 
 
 " Well, Ben ; as well as a man can be who has the appetite of 
 forty Indians always, and not often the meal to satisfy one 
 sufficiently." 
 
 " Lawd bless you, dat s wha I says to myse f, ebbry time I 
 sets down to my dinner I says, Lawd, ef I could only gee 
 Mass Willie a bit ol. dis bacon, or a plate ob dis rice, or a wing 
 ob dis chicken, or a dozen ob dese eggs, or a bowl ob dis coffee, 
 r somet ing or udder, sich as I has a-hissing and a-smoking 
 before me ; wha ebber I hab for my own eating dat day !" 
 
 " Thank you for your good intentions, Ben, and I m sure 
 your dinner would be a thousand times far more grateful than 
 what we commonly get the best of us in camp." 
 
 "Lean beef carrion, I may call um skin and bone; 
 sometimes no beef at all not ing better dan bile hom ny 
 
 " Ay, indeed, Benny ; and sometimes horse-beef, old fellow 
 such as my father had to eat, when you went with him, in tlm 
 old Cherokee war." 
 
 " It s a most onmassiful life, Mass Willie, to be a sodger 
 and I tinks ob de bad libing for you ebbry day. But you ll 
 hab somet ing better to-day, please God ! and ebbry day you 
 hab for stay wid us." 
 
 " Not long, Ben ! Camp duties can t suffer me to delay even 
 where the beef is excellent ; and you well know that so long as 
 this war Insts, I am not likely to be met, coming home, with my 
 father s smiles." 
 
 " Da s true, Mass Willie," answered the other with a sigh. 
 u De ole gentleman s jest as foolish and onsonsible as cbbcr ; 
 iiul jest now, wid cle clebbil nm! nil-fire, burning in his foo* 
 
PURSUIT AND PASTURAGE. 77 
 
 and de troubles we be been habing wid some of dese outlying 
 rascals in de swamp butchering de cattle, and robbing de 
 poultry-yard he s biling ober, I may say, wid all sort ob on- 
 reasonable vexations." 
 
 " What ! have the tories been at work upon your cattle, 
 Ben ?" 
 
 " Well, sir, I m a-tinking dat it s as much whigs as tories 
 When cattle-tie ving s the business, and henroost-robbing, 
 there ain t much difference, I m a-tinking, among sodgers. 
 Dey re all alike whigs and tories, king s men and people s 
 men ; de fac is, Mass Willie, de very sight ob a fat steer, or 
 a clobber young heifer, naterally, I may say, turns an honest 
 sodgror into a tief !" 
 
 " Take care, Ben. If the soldier should hear you uttering 
 any such sentiments?" 
 
 " I mus uttar dem, Mass Willie, kaise, you see, it s de on- 
 nateral, Christian trnte, I m a-telling. Ebbry ole sodger is 
 bound to tief chickens and cattle when de chaince is good foi 
 clearing out a henroost, or knocking a young steer on de head. 
 Dey ve been at dis work yer at de Barony, a leetle too often 
 ob late to please de ole maussa ; and he all but bile ober when 
 he hears ob it, and feels de fire in his foot dat keeps him from 
 mounting horse, and dribing de swamp for de rapscallions." 
 
 " And he curses the whigs accordingly V 1 
 
 " Dat he does ! He says it s all owing to de friends of liber 
 ty. Den he cusses de liberty, and den he grunts and says 
 And my own son ! my own son ! He to take up arms ag in 
 his king and country, to help dese rapscallions ! But ho 
 don t cuss you, Mass Willie no ! no ! he don t zackly do dat !" 
 
 "I am grateful for that, Benny very grateful; but I m 
 afraid he comes monstrous nigh to doing so, when he s boiling 
 over." 
 
 "Well, I reckon he would, Willie Sinclair I reckon nc 
 would, ef twan t for an angel, dat just den light down close by 
 his shoulder, and puts he arms round he neck, and looks inter 
 he face jest so, with sich a smiling and sicli a weeping in her 
 eyes, and sich s\v; et worlds upon her mouth, and kisses too, dat 
 liis heart gets weakly and saft, and she stops de cusses on his 
 lips; and he stops biling over, and forgits de British and de 
 
78 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 whigs and ae tories forgits every ting but jest what de 
 blessed white angel happens to say so saftly in his ears. Ah ! 
 Mass Willie, dat s a bressed critter, to be a woman, dat same 
 gal child, Carrie Sinclair." 
 
 "Dear Carrie!" exclaimed the major of dragoons, while he 
 involuntarily grasped the old negro s hand ; and a silent tear 
 suddenly gathered in his eye, bright and clear, as a pearl of 
 ocean thrown up by the billows, and left upon the beaten shore 
 in the smiles of an evening sunset. " Dear Carrie !" murmured 
 the youth. " But you remind me, Benny. I must hurry to her 
 and to the house, Benny, before the day opens broadly upon 
 us," 
 
 " It s about day -breaking now, Mass Willie." 
 
 " Then you must stir yourself, old fellow, and see to my horse, 
 and see to the bundles on his back. Put away the sack of pow 
 der and the bullets in the old hiding-place, and see that you hide 
 my horse also. He must riot go into the stables. In fact, it 
 must not be known on the plantation that I am here. I must 
 see Carrie ; but I do not know that I shall let my father suspect 
 my presence. I am pursued, Benny, and the plantation is even 
 now under the close watch of Hell-fire Dick, and a portion of 
 his gang." 
 
 " Hell-fire Dick ! He bout yer ag in ! Da s de same rap 
 scallion dat s been feeding pon we cattle. I sure ob it !" 
 
 " Yes ! likely enough. He is certainly here. I have seen 
 him this night. I have also found out that scamp, Pete Blod- 
 
 git-" 
 
 " Enty I bin always tell you, Pete Blodgit s a great rapscal 
 lion, and no better dan a scamp ?" 
 
 " I know it now ! But I have laid him bare. The scoundrel 
 would have taken my life, could he have mustered courage for 
 it." 
 
 " He no hab de heart, Mass Willie. He s a coward an a 
 rapscallion. Ha ! le me put finger on em." 
 
 " We may have a chance, Benny, to put the whole hand upon 
 him, and a few other of these rascals. They were all on my 
 track to-night ; and are now harboring about the avenue, and 
 skirting the lower woods. They, no doubt, believe me to be 
 still below, and are watching there for my approach. I took 
 
PUBSUiT A.VD PASTU1UGE. 71* 
 
 the opposite woods, got above the Barony, and came down by 
 Henderson s old cattle-pen. It is my plan now, to lie still, not 
 to be seen or suspected as having reached the Barony ; for we 
 know not what these rascals would have the audacity to attempt, 
 now that they believe that all the troops, British and American, 
 are above at Ninety-Six. If they were sure of my presence here, 
 they might even attempt to sack the Barony, since they know 
 that I have a considerable sum of money with me." 
 
 "Wha! dey tack de Barony? Le f em try! Enty ole 
 maussa yer, and you yer, and me yer ; and der s some sebben 
 or eight ob we brack people dat ain t f aid [afraidj ob de music 
 when de bullets fly ; and day will fight like bressed varmints, 
 jest whenebber maussa say de wurd. Den we hab gun and 
 pistol and swode ; and enty you hab powder and bullet on de 
 hoss? Le me gone for em right away !" 
 
 " Do so, Benny ; but first go and waken up little Peter, and 
 let him open the house-door to me, so that I can t be kept wait 
 ing outside where I may be seen. And bring Tiger with you 
 so that I may renew my acquaintance with him here, lest he 
 should fly out upon me, and alarm the neighborhood with his 
 barking." 
 
 " I gone, maussa." 
 
 Soon, the faithful negro reappeared, bringing the powerful 
 watchdog, an animal with a cross of the English bull upon the 
 Irish wolf-dog, broad bullet-head, lion neck, ample chest, short, 
 well-sinewed legs, and a short hair that lay smooth, and always 
 looking moist, close to his skin. The fierce beast leaped to the 
 caresses of his young master, with a loving whine, knowing him 
 at a glance. Together, the two, the major and the dog, stol -j 
 away to the dwelling, while Ben proceeded to put his young 
 master s horse, and the several burdens which he bore, in ;ev 
 eral places of security. 
 
THE FORAYER3. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CUPID AND CUPIDITY, 
 
 OUR major of dragoons found no impediment in effecting his en 
 trance into the dwelling. Ho was met at the door and welcomed 
 by little Peter, who stood in waiting, his eyes not fairly opened, 
 and his consciousness but partially excited. Little Peter was a 
 fellow more than six feet high : but his growth, however great, 
 never enabled him to outgrow the diminutive epithet which hailed 
 his puny advent into life. The little stuck to him even when 
 he had grown into a giant. His world,. not unlike that of most 
 great men, was tenacious of the disparaging epithet by which 
 his greatness stood rebuked ; and seemed resolved never to 
 recognise a growth which exposed so completely the absurdity 
 of their premature judgment in his case. Neither the negro 
 nor the white world is pleased, at any time, to acknowledge 
 that its sagacity has been at fault, in failing to conceive the 
 great capabilities of its own members, while they are yet only 
 in the gristle. 
 
 Though only half awake, little Peter grasped his young mas 
 ter s hand with an unction which showed that the boyish rela 
 tions of the two had been equally pleasant and familiar ; and 
 our major of dragoons requited the gripe in a way to satisfy all 
 the social sympathies in the negro s heart. 
 
 "Berry grad for see you, Mass Willie. Grad you come. 
 Exceed ant berry grad for see you " 
 
 " Thank you, Peter ; and I am glad to see you ! Why, boy, 
 are you never to stop growing] You are half a head taller 
 than your master. Are you not ashamed to grow so tall 1 ?" 
 
 Peter answered with a satisfied grin. 
 
 " Now, Peter, remember one thing. You are not to say a 
 word to any living soul about my being here not even to 
 your wife ! Do yon hear that, Peter 1 ?" 
 
CUPID AND CUPIDITY. 81 
 
 " Hah Bress God, Mass Willie, I ain t got no wife yit ! 
 Hope foi hab one some day, and efyou be so good, Mass Willie, 
 to say de good wud for me to Miss Carrie, and mek em le me 
 hab Congaree Polly, wlia wait on em " 
 
 " Well, why shouldn t you have Congaree Polly, if you are 
 both willing ?" 
 
 "Das wha* I say, maussa." 
 
 4< She s not too good for you, Peter certainly not too hand 
 some." 
 
 " Congaree Polly mighty good looking gal, maussa." 
 
 " Then she has undergone a marvellous improvement, Peter, 
 like yourself. But, if you are satisfied, so am I; and I will 
 report your wishes to my sister. But I remember Conga 
 ree Polly only as one of the most awkward creatures on 
 the plantation, and wondered that Carrie took her into the 
 house." 
 
 " Polly mighty smart and scrumptious, Mass Willie." 
 
 " I don t doubt the scrumptious, Peter, and it may be that 
 she has acquired the smart too ; but the beauty is quite an 
 other thing. However, if you really wish to be a married man, 
 and she suits you, there can be no objection ; provided she 
 makes none. I will let my sister hear of it. In the meantime, 
 Peter, do you remember that I am to be here in secret no 
 body is to know, not even Congaree Polly, unless she gets the 
 fact from myself or my sister ; and that she will do, only because 
 the matter can not well be kept from her. A secret never im 
 proves its complexion by unnecessarily uncovering its head. 
 Lock your door again, Peter. Let Tig ,r -emaiii with me for a 
 while. He will be quiet here." 
 
 And the negro proceeded about his house affairs; and the 
 major of dragoons, followed closely by Tiger, passed into the 
 interior of the house with quiet footsteps, and a degree of con 
 fidence, which showed both parties to be equally familiar with 
 all its recesses. Sinclair, wearing Indian boots moccasins 
 and leggins of buckskin awoke no echoes by his tread ; and 
 the feet of Tiger, as if emulous of his master s stealthy progress, 
 were set down as if he trod on -velvet. The major passed the 
 chamber in the upper story, in which his father slept, with in 
 creased caution of movement : and went on rather hurriedly to 
 
 4* 
 
82 THE FOllAYERS. 
 
 that which his sister occupied, at the end of the passage. Tap 
 ping at the door lightly, he was promptly heard within. 
 
 " Who is that Polly T was asked, in the well-remembered 
 accents of his sister. Another tap answered her, and a whistle 
 through the keyhole, which she readily recognised. 
 
 "Willie! Can it be Willie 1 ?" were the words which dis 
 tinctly reached the ears of the major. He whistled again, and 
 then the voice whispered to him through the keyhole : 
 " Wait a moment, Willie, till I throw on my gown." 
 He had not long to wait. The door was soon opened, ana 
 the brother and sister were instantly wrapped in a loving em 
 brace ; and little Lottie (Charlotte), a girl of ten years, followed 
 for her embrace also ; and, for a few moments, the joy of the 
 meeting, after a long interval of absence and danger, kept all 
 the parties from the expression of their feelings in speech. 
 Meanwhile, we must not omit to mention that Carrie Sinclair 
 was a all fresh beauty of the Monde order, and little Lottie was 
 very much like her " with a difference" of course Both had 
 very fair complexions, and very long, silken, brown hair, and 
 ( Carrie had large swimming blue eyes, and a soft, small deli 
 cious mouth, that seemed gushing with red blood, even as an 
 Indian peach whose cheeks you have parted with an eager 
 knife. Willie Sinclair watched the two, perused them, we may 
 say, with almost the fondness of a lover. And very precious 
 indeed were they to his love. The ties of affection which uni 
 ted their hearts were of the tenderest sort, such as had never 
 been sundered, or even shocked, for a single instant, from the 
 happy hours of their innocent childhood to the present moment. 
 And few words were spoken for a delicious interval. They 
 were content to gaze into each other s eyes, and to feel tne 
 pressure of each other s hands. The dialogus was murmured 
 rather than spoken, 
 
 < Oh I Willie, I am so happy that I see you again, and safe, 
 
 and well !" 
 
 "And I am so happy when I get back to the Barony, ami 
 
 find you without change, Carrie." 
 
 - And you have come now to stay with us, Brother Wil. 
 
 said little Lottie. 
 
 He shook his head, while he took tlw child into his arms- 
 
CUPID AND CUPIDITY. 83 
 
 " But a little while, Lottie. War suffers no long repose to 
 the soldier." 
 
 " But the wars will soon be over, Brother Willie. Papa says 
 that the king s troops will beat your soldiers out of the coun 
 try." 
 
 " I hope not, Lottie, and think not ! and so," turning to 
 Carrie, " so, he has a touch of the gout at this moment ?" 
 
 " Yes, a pretty severe one too." 
 
 "A bad season for showing myself before him, Carrie." 
 
 Carrie looked anxious, but she did not answer ; and, after a 
 brief pause, she contrived to send Lottie out of the apartment ; 
 the major warning the child that she was, on no account, or to 
 anybody, to mention that he was in the house." 
 
 " Not to papa, Brother Willie ?" asked the child. 
 
 " Not even to papa, little Lottie. Leave me to do that myself, 
 when the time comes." 
 
 The child, rewarded by another kiss from her brother, dis 
 appeared, and, with her departure, the dialogue became more 
 free between the elder sister and the brother. 
 
 " Whether I shall show myself at present to my father, Car 
 rie, must depend upon your report. His gout will add to the 
 embarrassments between us, and the difficulty of avoiding pain 
 ful language. He is, I fear, but little reconciled ; and the ab 
 surd notion that he entertains, that our cause is failing, ^ill 
 make him more unreasonable and unreasoning. The relief of 
 Ninety-Six, the retreat of Greene before Rawdon, the arrival 
 of new troops, three fresh regiments from Ireland, all of which 
 he probably knows, have contributed, no doubt, to fortify him 
 in his convictions that our cause is well nigh prostrated." 
 
 " Such is, certainly, the case, Willie," said the sister, with a 
 mournful shake, of the head. The brother continued : 
 
 " He does not know, as yet, perhaps, that Rawdon has, in 
 turn, been compelled to retreat ; that < Ninety-Six has been evac 
 uated almost as soon as relieved ; that the Irish troops can not 
 be trusted ; and that the partisans are every day increasing in 
 number, in spirit and confidence, and, under new leaders, hith 
 erto unknown, are starting up, on all sides, like the armed men, 
 from the teeth of the dragon ! In brief, my dear Carrie, our 
 cause in Carolina was never so prosperous in prospect before 
 
M THE FORAYERS. 
 
 We have passed our darkest day. We are about to enjoy tLe 
 new dawn." 
 
 " Not a word of this does he know, and, I may say, Willie, 
 that, in his present conditions and mood, not a word is he likely 
 to believe. He thinks the triumph of the British arms certain ; 
 and was, only yesterday, malting it a subject of discussion I 
 suppose chiefly to worry me whether, it became him, as a true 
 subject, and as an honorable man, to interfere with a petition 
 to Lord Rawdon, in your behalf, in anticipation of your captiv 
 ity, trial and doom, as a traitor." 
 
 The major of dragoons laughed merrily. 
 
 Why this is worse than ever, Carrie. The supposed suc 
 cesses of the British arms ought r .ther to put him in better 
 humor." 
 
 " So it would, Willie, no doubt, had it not been for the dis 
 covery which he has lately made of your visits to a place on the 
 Edisto, called Holly-Dale." 
 
 "Hah!" was the sudden exclamation of the major, while a 
 warm suffusion passed over his cheeks. The sister beheld this, 
 and said reproachfully : 
 
 " Ah ! Willie, there is a secret you have kept from me V 
 
 " Not willingly. Not with any purpose of concealment, dear 
 Carrie. I meant that you should know all in season. But tell me 
 vfhat has my father heard, and from whom ? Who has been 
 here ?" 
 
 " Your man, Ballou, was here, and I think that something 
 dropped from him that led father to suspect. Afterward, there 
 came a certain Captain Travis, an elderly person " 
 
 Ah ! indeed ! He here ?" 
 
 " Who, it seems, is the proprietor of Holly-Dale." 
 
 " What did he come for ?" hastily 
 
 " I did not learn ; but father and himsel/ were closeted to 
 gether for a couple of hours. I saw them when they first met 
 in the hall. They seemed to have known each other before." 
 
 " They served together in the Cherokee war." 
 
 " It was very evident to me that father did not like the man, 
 uor did I! he seemed a sly, selfish, fawning sort of person, 
 with a mean carriage, a sinister look, and a stealthly cat-like 
 motion." 
 
CUPID AKD CUPIDITY. 87 
 
 A true picture too true ! " ~.. 
 
 "When lie was gone and I was not present when he went I 
 found father full of rage and indignation. He spoke of this 
 Captain Travis as a mean, monej -loving miser, who was more than 
 suspected of peculation in the commissary department during the 
 Cherokee war." 
 
 The cheek and brow of the major again flushed and reddened, 
 and he rose from his seat and paced the room. His sister paused 
 and watched him. He returned to his seat after an effort, and said 
 quietly : 
 
 "Goon, Carrie, with your story." 
 
 " Did you mark that fellow, Carrie! said my father to me on 
 my return to the room, when the guest had departed did you 
 mark Ms mean, avaricious aspect, his ratlike avidity of expression, 
 his catlike, stealthy movements, the hateful cunning in his eyes, 
 the sly, sneaking, insinuating tones of his voice the utter baseness 
 in everything about him? " 
 
 " Well! go on," said the major, looking gloomy. 
 
 " Such was his question. Of course, I said as little as possible, 
 seeing his humor, and knowing nothing about the person, who I 
 really felt was anything but prepossessing in appearance. That 
 fellow, he continued, has made a fortune by peculation. He has 
 large estates lands, negroes, and I suppose money. But he is 
 a scoundrel and knows that I know him to be one! I spurned 
 him as such when we served together among the Cher- 
 okees; and, but for that rebellious son of mine, he never 
 would have dared to show bis face in my house! Well! 
 this wretch, this reptile, has the audacity, under the sanc 
 tion of my own blood my own son to come here and propose 
 an alliance with my family. What do you think of that? 
 said he. 
 
 "I never gave any such sanction; I never authorized any such 
 proposal I never spoke one syllable to Captain Travis on the 
 subject." 
 
 Such was the hasty speech of the Major of Dragoons. 
 
 "Oh! I m so glad, Willie, to hear you say so!" exclaimed 
 Carrie "for, of a truth, brother, I have rarely seen father in 
 such a passion as he was put by the proposals of this person. 
 It brought on him this last attack of gout. Oh ! if you can only 
 
I 1 HE FORAYERS. 
 
 tha ; you never authorized this person that you have 
 no idea of the young woman, his daughter " 
 
 " Alas ! sister mine, I can say no such thing !" answered the 
 youth, with an effort to speak gayly. " I can say that I sanc 
 tioned none of Captain Travis s proceedings that I authorize^ 
 him to speak for me in nothing ! But I confess to you, Carrie, 
 my love, that I have a serious idea of his daughter ; and that 
 though I have no sympathy with the father nay, think of 
 him very much as our father does/- -yet I should welcome an 
 alliance with his daughter, as one of the most grateful of all 
 mortal acquisitions." 
 
 " Can it be possible, brother, that you would marry into such 
 a low family ?" 
 
 " I do not marry the family ! Besides, Carrie, the family is 
 not low ! The mother was a Fergusson of St. Thomas s, and 
 a fine woman. The daughter is as noble and sweet a creature 
 as may be found anywhere between the Peedee and the Sa 
 vannah. She will do no discredit to any family in the country ; 
 and, once for all, hear it from me, Carrie, I shall never be the man 
 to sacrifice the best feelings of my own heart, and the best claims 
 in the heart and form of woman, to the prejudices of caste and 
 society, which perpetually fluctuate in position, and just as 
 frequently exhibit baseness as nobility, in the elements which 
 they foster, and upon which they pride themselves !" 
 
 " But you surely, Willie, acknowledge the claim of caste and 
 society ?" 
 
 " To be sure I do, Carrie ; but not when they err, and do 
 wrong to claims which are not less legitimate than their own ! 
 I ll tell you where they err, Carrie ; in their inflexible resolve 
 never to recognise those exceptional cases which are rightly 
 acknowledged always, as such, even when we obey the rule. 
 Caste and class properly pride themselves upon the habitual re 
 finements of mind and moral, acquired in long periods of time. 
 This constitutes their just claim to authority; and they rightly 
 hold themselves aloof from associations with other classes, who 
 do not know, and do not properly value these refinements. But 
 there is, here and there, a natural nobility in individuals, which 
 override-3 the law, and demands recognition. There are persons 
 .o whom refinement is native who are born nobles delicate 
 
CUPID AND CUPIDITY. 87 
 
 and just in sentiment, magnanimous in soul, generous in courage, 
 endowed with noble talents, and devoted to noble purposes. It 
 is the duty of an aristocracy to acknowledge all such persons, as 
 soon as found, and take them lovingly into their embrace, and 
 seek to do them honor ; and there is a twofold wisdom in doing 
 so, since we thus add to our own resources of society, and in 
 crease our influence upon mankind at large. But classes are 
 ant to show themselves too jealous of position, and too slow to 
 recognise these occasional claims of the individual. The conse 
 quence is that they make him hostile ; and he will bring his 
 natural powers to bear against them will expose their weak 
 nesses, and revenge upon them his own hurts of self-esteem 
 an injustice that always avenges itself upon the wrong-doer 
 and, in the end, we pay a double penalty; forced not only, at 
 last, to acknowledge the claims to which we unwisely opposed 
 ourselves at first, but to pay them tribute also, and to submit to 
 an authority which becomes exacting and despotic in proportion 
 to the tenacity with which it has been resisted and denied. No 
 one, more highly than myself, esteems the claims of social caste. 
 It is a natural condition, and rightly possesses authority ; but, 
 God forbid ! that I should sullenly and sternly reject the occa 
 sional individual, whose personal claims put him above his con 
 dition in society ! He has received from nature his badges of 
 nobility, and society is simply ridiculous when it opposes itself 
 to the credentials which come patent from the hands of God 
 himself! Be assured that, in all such conflicts, the class refu 
 sing to acknowledge the individual only proves itself unworthy, 
 and perils all the securities upon which it prides itself." 
 
 "And is this young lady so attractive so refined and intel- 
 ^lectual, Willie?" 
 
 "I am a lover, Carrie, you know, and may be held to be 
 somewhat blind, and somewhat extravagant ; but, making all 
 allowance, for that amiable insanity which sees nothing but 
 perfection in the creature whom it loves, I am free to declare 
 that I hold Bertha Travis to be one of the most gentle, pure, 
 refined, and beautiful creatures that was ever born under the 
 blessed vault of heaven !" 
 
 L Carrie took the hand of her brother into her own, and. 
 smiling sweetly, sai<3 
 
88 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " How I long to see and know her ! Bertha ! It is a pretty 
 but an unfamiliar name. It is a pity, if one so beautiful, gentle, 
 and well-endowed, should be scorned because of her family." 
 
 She shall not be scorned, Carrie, by me, or by any whose 
 respect I can compel," answered the major of dragoons, with 
 the air uf a man who had long been exercised in the freedom 
 of a perfect will. He continued 
 
 " I am sorry that the matter has been prematurely broken to 
 my father. This is not the time for it. And why Captain 
 Travis should have broached it, just now, I can not so well 
 divine. He had not only no authority from me to speak of it, 
 but I have never once spoken with him about it ; indeed, be 
 tween the father and myself there has been no -cordial intimacy 
 But he is a shrewd politician, and there are signs in the horizon 
 for which I suppose him to be preparing. There are, indeed; 
 certain influences acting upon him, which he either can not re 
 sist, or the conflict with which he would escape. He would, I 
 fancy, cheerfully ally himself with our family, in the hope to 
 acquire equal position and security. This movement proves 
 that he sees the decline of the British power !" 
 
 " Father spoke of him as one who really cared nothing for 
 either party, or as inclining rather to the American cause, but 
 driving a good trade under favor of the British." 
 
 " I believe it ; and the question with him now, is, under 
 which play can he be most secure, while realizing the most 
 pi-Dfits 1 The question leads to other influences, which do not 
 leave him quite as free as he could wish to be. He has some 
 entanglements has some dangerous secrets abroad in other 
 hands and there is one whom he well knows would sacrifice 
 him without scruple, and destroy him with the British, unless 
 he can pacify him. This person is my danger also my black 
 dog, that haunts me with a fear. In brief, Carrie, this person 
 is my rival S" 
 
 " Ah ! for the affections of Bertha ?" 
 
 " Precisely ! And you can now conjecture the motive of 
 Captain Travis in broaching to my father the subject of an alii 
 ance with his house." 
 
 " I do not see, Willie." 
 
 " Simply, then, there is a certain Richard Inglehardt, a cap- 
 
CUPID AND CUPIDITY. 89 
 
 tain of loyalists, who is a suitor for the hand of Bertha. Cap 
 tain Travis would rather that she should ally herself with our 
 family than with his, since his origin is rather humble. But 
 Inglehardt has, I suspect, found the secret of Travis s dealings 
 with both parties. The positive rejection of his suit, by Tra 
 vis, would lead to the ruin of the latter. To save himself, he 
 would unite with our people, if we would guaranty him pro 
 tection. An alliance with me, he thinks, would secure it for 
 him. To arrange for this object, has been, I suspect, the cause 
 of his visit to my father. He has wished to sound and feel his 
 way. He is eminently cautious and cunning. What he has 
 said I can only conjecture ; but, in all probability, not suspect 
 ing my father s loyalty, or the intensity of it, he has too freely 
 shown his hand ; an indiscretion to which my father s reserved 
 demeanor the consequence of his dislike for the man nas 
 probably driven him. Now, Travis sees, as well as anybody, 
 the precarious condition of British power in the country. He 
 is preparing accordingly. He has shown his opinions, on this 
 subject, to my father, who, of course, thinks nothing of the kind ; 
 and the result has been the explosion which you heard. 
 
 "And this Richard Inglehardl; what sort of person is he ? 
 Have you any reason to think that Bertha " 
 
 She paused. The question she was about to ask might be a 
 disquieting, as it was a delicate one. 
 
 " Ah ! my black dog ! Well, let me do the scoundrel justice. 
 He is a scoundrel, but one whom you must respect for the 
 strength that is in him. He is a good-looking fellow ; dark of 
 feature, with long, wild, black hair, glossy and rich ; eyes in 
 tensely keen and piercing, but of icy coldness ; of good, well- 
 made figure, and graceful ; quiet and subdued of manner ; slow 
 and circumspect; mild and amiable of demeanor; but savage, 
 selfish, of a bloody recklessness of mood, who keeps no faith 
 with any when his own policy seems to counsel falsehood, and 
 one who is as tenacious of pursuit as the devil of his victim. 
 Mentally, he is shrewd, quick, keen, and though but imperfect 
 ly educated, yet ready and intelligent. He is a person whose 
 hostility compels great caution, if not fear. He is a good sol 
 dier, commands a smart company of rangers, and is brave 
 enough, and bold enough, whenever he finds his profit in it 
 
90 THK FORAYERS. 
 
 He Las known Bertlm Travis from childhood. His father was 
 a small Dutch farmer in the same neighborhood." 
 
 "Truly, Willie, a formidable rival. But shc--Bertha 
 how does she like him ? Does she incline to cither, Willie ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Carrie, you will know it all, I see ! Well, then, I 
 may tell you, once for all, that I have no longer cause to feat 
 with her. She is mine, Carrie mine!" 
 
 And Carrie laughed delightedly, as she again flung her arms 
 round her brother s neck, and kissed him. 
 
 "And now, Carrie, let me throw myself upon your bed, and 
 snatch a couple of hours sleep. That will suffice, and bring us 
 to your breakfast-hour. I have much more to tell you, but 
 must not begin now. I must sleep, child, now, or I shall be 
 only half able to do the work that is before me. See that you 
 K ?ep fast the door, and, for the present, keep as secret as possi 
 ble the tact that I am here. Much depends on it. 
 
FAITH AND BREAKFAST. 91 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FAITH AND BREAKFAST. 
 
 FOR two hours exactly, did Willie Sinclair sleep. He waa 
 trapped in slumber as soon as he had laid himself down, and 
 awoke at the designated time of limitation. Such is the result 
 of military habit. Sleep when you can, and wake alwavs 
 when you will ! Carrie was absent when he awakened, and he 
 had time to perform his ablutions before she reappeared. At 
 her return it was very natural that she should resume the sub 
 ject of his wooing, and of the damsel he had won. When was 
 a little bit of domestic history, having for its theme a love bur 
 den, ever an ungrateful subject in youthful ears ? But,in Car 
 rie Sinclair s case, it was the curiosity of a loving sister that 
 sought for his secret, and not an idle brain, or a silly fancy ; and 
 she welcomed all his confidences with a genial love. The nat 
 ural satisfaction, nay, exultation, which he had displayed in re 
 vealing his triumph, in the story of his successful wooing, was 
 fondly encountered by the sympathies of his sister. Carrie 
 Sinclair had no such prejudices as filled her father s bosom, 
 against the caste of the family in which her brother found his 
 sweetheart. At all events, her prejudices were not deep-rooted, 
 and constituted a sentiment rather than a feeling or a principle. 
 She readily believed that the lady whom Willie had chosen was 
 worthy to be her sister ; and all the social barriers which she 
 fancied had really existed between her family and that into 
 which he proposed to marry, were dissipated by a breath. She 
 took Willie s hand into her own, and pressing it fondly, ex 
 claimed : 
 
 " I must know her, Willie. I feel that I shall love her very 
 much. How can I else than love the woman whom you love? 
 But it will be a long struggle before you can overcome the 
 prejudices of papa. You don t know how angry the report 
 
\)2 THE FORAYERfc). 
 
 made him , how bitterly lie spoke of Bertha, and you, and Cap 
 tain Travis. He has such a bad opinion of him, that 1 fear it 
 will be impossible to reconcile him to the match." 
 
 " Never you fear, Carrie ! Our good father is violent rather 
 than steadfast. He blazes out into a passion, yet very soon for 
 gets the passion ; and where a passion is unreasonable, or where 
 it is founded on an error, it is very apt to burn out very soon in 
 such a nature as his. Besides, when he once knows Bertha " 
 
 " But bow is he to know her, Willie ? How are we to 
 Mieet I 
 
 " The world 1 is always in motion, Carrie, and opportunity 
 stands at every man s elbow, sometime or other. You don t 
 suppose this war is to last for ever, Carrie ]" 
 
 I don t know. It seems so, Willie! New troops from 
 England, and " 
 
 " The war is nearly burnt out now. These new troops are 
 all that England has to send; and these are Irish wholly, 
 whom the officers here can hardly trust ! The English people 
 are even more tired of the war than we. It has exhausted 
 them ; and they now feel, what they could not see,&t the begin 
 ning of the conflict, that what they might have gained by pre 
 venting our Independence, is more than balanced by what they 
 lose in the sacrifice of our trade. I doubt if the war can last 
 another year. It would require some time to explain to you 
 why I think so, and this is not necessary. Besides, I have 
 other matters to tell about, of more immediate interest. I have 
 not told you, Carrie, that I have been chased hither this morn 
 ing." 
 
 " Chased, Willie, by whom 1" 
 
 " By some of the most blood-thirsty ruffians of all the refugee 
 tories in the country. I was at Pete Blodgit s last night. I 
 have found that scoundrel out ! He has been robbing us at a 
 fearful rate; forgetting all his obligation to us; was selling ev 
 erything, and hiding away the money ! But I made the rogue 
 disgorge ; and, but that I was vigilant, I might have been 
 brained with a billet for my pains." 
 
 " Impossible ! What, Blodgit, for whom we have done so 
 much ! whose mother we have fed, and nursed, and provided 
 for, as one of our own fam l v V 
 
FAITH AND BKEAKFAST. 93 
 
 "Ay, and who would have requited us, for all, after a very Chris- 
 tian fashion, by counseling her hopeful son to cut my throat ! I have 
 found them both out. " 
 
 Here he told the much-wondering damsel all the story as it is 
 already known to us. At the close, he laid before her the gold, the 
 sight of which had proven so fatal to the virtues of Dame Blodgit 
 and her son. 
 
 "Half of the gold is yours, Carrie." 
 
 " Keep it, Willie. I have no use for it." 
 
 " No ! Do you keep it ; and should /have use for it, I will know 
 where to look. Keep secret that you have it, for the possession of 
 gold is a rare danger at this juncture ; particularly as the Barony is 
 so poorly guarded j my father laid up with gout, and myself 
 absent ! There are little squads of scoundrels all about the country, 
 who will attempt anything desperate with such a temptation in their 
 eyes. Our father s relations with the British secure him with them, 
 while my connection with our side affords him similar security 
 with us. But the refugees, Whig and Tory, are not to be restrained 
 by either party, when they find an opportunity for plunder ; 
 and your best security now, is to conceal all objects of temp 
 tation." 
 
 " They are plundering us now." 
 
 "Of cattle, I know ; but this must be endured. In fact, I shall 
 have to do a little of this business of cattle plundering upon the 
 Barony, myself. But say nothing on this head I do not know, 
 indeed, but that your recent losses have been by our own people. 
 At present, however, it is just as well that our father should suppose 
 the diminution of his fat steers to be due altogether to the friendly 
 aid of his loyalist connections. And now, Carrie, better see to 
 your house affairs. It is time for our father to be stirring. See 
 to him and leave me here. Keep from him the fact that I am here 
 for the present, at least. I suppose it not likely that he will ask 
 after me." 
 
 " He speaks of you often enough, Willie." 
 
 " Bat not lovingly, Carrie." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, for he speaks angrily." 
 
 "Ah! then there is hope." 
 
 Oh ! yes, Willie ; let the war but end, and all will be for 
 gotten." 
 
94 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Ah ! indeed ! And he chuckles with the idea that his in 
 terposition then will alone save me from the gallows; and this 
 he fancies, will bring me to my knees ! He dreams still as 
 fondly as ever of the final triumph of the king ?" 
 
 " That he does ; and you would he surprised to hear him argue 
 it out and prove it. To hear him first, and you afterward, I am left 
 in a condition of perfect bewilderment. You are both so equally 
 certain, and so satisfactory, that I believe neither of you. Not 
 knowing where to steer, I am thus kept afloat, like a ship under 
 opposing winds, sent to and fro, and never finding port or rest." 
 The major of dragoons laughed. 
 
 "Drop anchor, then, and take in sail, and let the winds ex 
 haust themselves against each other. I shall see our father be 
 fore I depart ; that is, if I observe anything to encourage me to 
 seek an interview ; and then you may judge for yourself as to 
 he respective force of the opposing currents. Meanwhile, 
 that I may be justified for not showing myself just yet, you are 
 to remember that these refugees are about the premises. That 
 sneaking scoundrel Blodgit is with them, no doubt; and he 
 knows the place too well not to render it highly probable that 
 he will be prying about. I wish them to remain in doubt as to 
 my presence here. This will cause delay, and keep them in 
 the precinct." 
 
 "And why do you wish that, Willie ?" 
 
 " For a reason, Carrie, in which you, I fancy, have a certain 
 interest. I look to see Peyre St Julien here, in twelve hours! 
 Bless me, Carrie, child, how your face reddens !" 
 
 " And why should my face redden, I d like to know ?" 
 " Nay, that s what Td like to know ! Explain !" 
 " Really, Willie, you are looking monstrous wise of a sudden." 
 " And you monstrous foolish ! Fie, fie, Carrie, to try to keep 
 Eiich a secret from your brother, from your own Willie, who has 
 always opened his heart to you, the moment he became con 
 scious of having a single sensation in it." He had forgotten his 
 own secret, and she was too much flurried to think of the obvi 
 ous retort. 
 
 " Oh ! Willie, I have never shut mine against you ! Only " 
 " Only in this instance, Carrie, when the bird you had cage<i 
 ; n it was quite too precious to be exposed to any eyes." 
 
FAITH AND BREAKFAST. 9 
 
 No ! no ! brother ! It was I that told Peyre +o tell you alii 
 I did, indeed, Willie." 
 
 " Go ! go ! You are a foolish child ! And why should you 
 not have told me all yourself!" 
 
 "I don t know; I tried to do so when we parted last, but 
 somehow " 
 
 " Your heart failed you ! Well, I suppose you have not ven 
 tured to be more communicative with our father than with me. 
 He does not know how greatly Peyre St. Julicn wishes to soar, 
 docs he ?" 
 
 " No, indeed ! How could I tell him ?" 
 
 "Ah! Carrie! what a cruel fate is ours! That we should 
 both run counter to all our papa s wishes. Thai we should 
 both love where lie would prefer to hate. That we should do 
 those things that, in his creed, we are criminal to do; and leave 
 those things undone which he holds essential to his proper re 
 ligion ! What an explosion there will be when he finds out 
 your secret. Mine was nothing to it; for you were always 
 his pet, Carrie; the apple of his eye so perfect too ha! ha! 
 ha ! Poor Carrie, when he finds you out !" 
 " Oh, don t speak of it, Willie; pray don t." 
 " How demure it makes you look !" 
 
 " Yes, Willie, it makes me very sad ! to think how well he 
 loves me, and that I dare not tell him all." 
 
 He took her proudly in his arms and kissed her. 
 " 5 e f g 00 ^ cheer, Carrie ! all will come right, HAVQ faith, 
 child what s love without faith and will? I have both. I 
 love, and nothing doubt that T shall get the woman whom I 
 love ! True, there are impediments, but I will overcome them ; 
 rivals, but I will foil them ; hostile papas, but I will soothe 
 them. I may have to fight for my wife, and I mean to do it, as 
 soon as the necessity shows itself for fight ! But, this is one of 
 the, very groundworks of my faith. It is assured, by my own 
 will to do all that is essential to the acquisition of its object ! 
 and I will fight for your little heart too, my Carrie, so never de 
 epond ! Have faith, child, and, away now and see after your 
 papa s and your brother s breakfast." 
 
 "But when, Willie do you say, that St. Julien is coming? 5 
 asked Carrie, as she peeped obliquely at *he mirror. 
 
96 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Oli ! you shall have ample time to make your toilet. Get 
 you gone now, before the old man grows impatient." 
 
 The damsel disappeared. The brother remained alone. He 
 seized the occasion to attend to his own toilet ; a duty which he 
 found very grateful of performance. This done, he was joined 
 suddenly by our quondam friend, Little Peter, who opened the 
 door cautiously, but without hesitation, and appeared, bringing 
 in a covered basket, the contents of which, smuggled from tit 
 pantry, made the sufficient and palatable breakfast for our ma 
 jor of dragoons. 
 
 " Breck us, Mass Willie," said Little Peter. Sinclair laughed 
 out to see the disproportion between the large negro and the little 
 basket : the giant doing the duty of the dwarf. Peter laughed, 
 also, from sympathy, never once suspecting the occasion of his 
 young master s merriment. 
 
 " Peter, you must find that basket very heavy." 
 
 " No heabby tall, Mass Willie. Chile kin carry em." 
 
 Then, as the fellow caught the glance of his master s eye, he 
 understood the ridicule, and, setting down the basket hurriedly, 
 as if it were a snake, he forced himself into a second chuckle. 
 
 " And how s your master this morning, Peter ?" 
 
 " Hah, Mass Willie ! ole maussa hab de fire in he foot. He s 
 in berry bad sperrits dis morning kin do not ing but cuss and 
 eat !" 
 
 " He has an appetite then, Peter ?" 
 
 " Always kin eat when he cuss ! He eat and cuss ; and ha 
 dunno how much he eat and cuss !" 
 
 " You ought to tell him, Peter." 
 
 " Ki ! Mass Willie ; me tell ole maussa, how much he cuss 
 and eat !" And the negro laughed fairly at the insanity of the 
 suggestion. 
 
 " Well, Peter, let ur, see what you have for breakfast ; for I 
 too, have an appetite. Spread out your commodities, and clear 
 out. You will be wanted behind your master s chair whenever 
 he feels the necessity to swear !" 
 
 Peter grinned imderstandingly, as he obeyed the order to 
 spread out the breakfast ; then made a respectful bow, as say 
 ing, " all s ready ;" but still lingered. Sinclair knew by this 
 that he waited for more last words. 
 
FAITH AND BREAKFAST. 97 
 
 " Well, Peter, what would you say T 
 
 "Benny Bowlegs say I mus tell you, dere stwo, free, seben, 
 fibe, strange white men bin by de aVnue gate. He look like 
 poor buckrah and cattle-tief. He bin day dis morning, but he 
 gone. Benny Bowlegs tell me, for tell you, dat he mus hab 
 some talk wicl you when you done you breck us." 
 
 " It must be here, then, Peter. Tell Benny to find some ex 
 cuse for coming to me here, and to come as soon as he pleases." 
 
 "Oh ! him kin come. I tell em :" and, pulling at his wool- 
 tiifl, and scraping with his foot upon the floor, Little Peter dis 
 appeared. He had scarcely gone, when Benny Bowlego, 7,ot 
 waiting the permission he had solicited, entered the chamber 
 also. He brought with him the holsters of his young master, 
 wrapped up in the fragment of a blanket. 
 
 "I tink, Mass Willie," said he, " dat you better hab dese 
 little bullpups yer, onder you own ban . Dere s no telling how 
 soon you may want em. De swode is good nough, when you 
 hab dem tory in chopping reach, but de pups kin keep guard on 
 door and winder." 
 
 " What have you seen or heard, Benny ?" 
 
 " I sec, Mass Willie ! I hab sight ob Hell-fire Dick, and 
 two, free, sebben, fibe, udder hog and cattle tief, ;.own 
 by the ab mie gate. I speck day must ha bin see me to,, ,":r 
 soon day gone clean out ob sight. I reckon day s all now cob 
 ber up in de woods below. Day s a watching, Mass W-u e. 
 Day s arter mischief dis mawning !" 
 
 " Did you see Pete Blodgit among them ?" 
 " I nebber mek out dat pusson ; but I reckon he s jus like de 
 buzzard, always hab a nose Avhen der s a bullock to be skin and 
 clean." 
 
 " Exactly ! Keep a look out for him ! Remember, above 
 all things, that he is not to have a notion that I am here ! He 
 must not see my horse, or saddle, or bridle, or any thing that he 
 will know as mine, And should he appear on the place, do 
 you, or Little Peter, keep an eye on him all the while he is 
 here; watch all his motions; and, should you see that he 
 discovers anything, clap hands on him at once, rope him, and 
 hide him away ! Much depends on our blinding fo seyes, Ben 
 
 ny." 
 
98 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "I d raMer bung ein up fair, right away !" said the trucu 
 lent Benny Bowlegs, showing his enormous double fist, by way 
 of indicating the modus operandA in such a performance. 
 
 " Well, you need not mince matters with such a scoundrel : 
 only see that he makes no discoveries, and, should yon suspect 
 him of any, then instantly rope and lock him up ; but rot other 
 wise." 
 
 " Leff em to me, Mass Willie. I knows how to manage da 
 v/arramL Don t you t ink, Mass Willie, you better hab a pomr 
 o- .vo ob dem powder and bullet you bring, yer in de house.* 
 
 Why, old follow, you don t think we re to have a siege V 1 
 " I don know, Mass Willie, but when Hell-fire Dick s about, 
 and hab free, sebben, fibe pussons wid em, and dor s no sod- 
 gers, red coats or blue, anywhar, in these parts, I reckon it s 
 iest as well to be ready for de rapscallions." 
 " You are right, perhaps, Benny." 
 " I knoivs I m right." 
 
 " Well, do as you please ; but do not let your movements be 
 seen or suspected." 
 
 Benny s only answer to this caution, consisted in lifting his 
 forefinger to his left eye, and drawing down the lower lid. The 
 action said as clearly as words could have done : 
 
 " Noting green yer, maussa." Benny s experience and suc 
 cesses had been such, that nobody suspected him of an unwise 
 vanity when he asserted his own wisdom and sagacity. 
 
 The interview ceased at this moment, and Benny disappear 
 ed, walking with singular erectness, like a well-drilled grena 
 dier on parade. His ancient war spirit was returning fast. 
 
 Willie Sinclair was just finishing a formidable breakfast, 
 when his sister Carrie reappeared ; little Lottie remaining 
 with her father in the breakfast-room. Leaving brother and 
 sister to a long conversation, of much mutual interest to them 
 selves but none to us, let us now go forth, and see what prog 
 ress has been made by our ruffianly acquaintances, wh: m we 
 left in hot pursuit last night. 
 
TBffi OU1LAW8 IN COUNCIL. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE OUTLAWS IN COUNCIL. 
 
 IT is apt to irritate the very best of people to be defeated in 
 their calculations, to be disappointed in pleasant aims, and to 
 find themselves baffled in properly-planned performances. The 
 passions of our banditti, headed by All-fire Dick, are not of a 
 sort to make them more placable than persons less ambitious 
 ly disposed. But we are not yet to speak of them as being dis 
 appointed of their prey. They had not, it is true, run down 
 the fugitive, Sinclair, with his sack of guineas, to say nothing 
 of those rolls of dingy continental money, which had been so 
 painfully wrested from the keeping of Master Pete Blodgit 
 But, it was not supposed, by the most confident among them, 
 that they would exactly run him down. They knew him to be 
 something of the old soldier very cool, brave, and crammed 
 full with the lessons of experience. That they should be able 
 to out-travel him, they knew ; but, that he should suffer them to 
 come up with him, on the high-road, was not a part of their cal 
 culations. The thing was possible surely ; since a sleepy man. 
 exhausted with fatigue, soaked with rain, suffering with hunger, 
 is apt to be blind and deaf, particularly of a dark night. There 
 fore, he might have been " overslaughed" as he nodded onward, 
 drowsing on his steed. " But this was simply a something on the 
 bare skirts of possibility, and formed but an humble feature 
 among the calculations of our banditti. 
 
 To get ahead of the fugitive, cut him off from the Barony, 
 then scour the woods below, in which he would be supposed to 
 take shelter, and pick up their prey almost at their pleasure, 
 this was their calculation ; and a very good one too, had they 
 been dealing with a timid man, or one wanting in experience 
 and resources. But, as we have seen, they were defeated by a 
 
100 THE 
 
 very simple expedient ; and, by the way, none but simple ex 
 pedients are likely to be successful in moments of emergency. 
 
 But our banditti were not as yet to know that they had been 
 defeated. They had no reason to suppose that our major of 
 dragoons was not somewhere in the woods below. They were 
 aware, of course, that there was a possibility that he had made 
 such headway as to reach " the Barony" before themselves 
 since they knew not, exactly, at what moment he had fled from 
 the stable-loft of Blodgit ; nor could they measure the paces of 
 his horse, except by some general estimate of his powers after a 
 hard day s ride. Still, when they had attained the point at 
 which they aimed, there was some feeling of disappointment, 
 that they had not found some proofs by which to determine the 
 question of his whereabouts. 
 
 In the cool of the morning hours, and before the dawn, we 
 find them assembled, accordingly, in close proximity with the 
 avenue leading to the mansion-house and settlements of Colonel 
 Sinclair. They had skirted the avenue and fences, which cut 
 off the cultivated fields from the natural forests. They had put 
 themselves in such a position, along this line, as would discour 
 age any but a desperate attempt, on the part of the fugitive, to 
 make his passage upward. A bold man, they well knew, might 
 attempt and do it, provided he were near enough ; for they were 
 too few in number to make the cordon perfect : but they relied 
 on luck, their own agility, and the fact that the fugitive could 
 not well know where they had severally disposed themselves. 
 This done, there was a consultation. 
 
 Now, a consultation, whether in war or physic, is apt to pro 
 duce a confusion of tongues; and our banditti, though some 
 what coerced by the terrible authority maintained by All-fire 
 Dick, was yet a free-spoken body, and there were some of the 
 members who would always cavil even when compelled to sub 
 mit. 
 
 " We ve lost him, I reckon," said " Skin-the-Serpent," with 
 an oath and growl ; " and may as well hang up our fiddles for 
 all the good that ll come of playing out of tune." 
 
 " Lost h-11 !" roared All-fire Dick. " What did you expect ? 
 Did you reckon he d stand, and let us ride him down on the open 
 track 1 Didn t we know that he d take to the woods ?" 
 
THE OUTLAWS IN COUNCIL. 101 
 
 "But how do we kiiDw that he s taken to the woods? How 
 do we know that he ain t safely housed at the Barony at this 
 very moment?" 
 
 " How do we know anything but by finding- out ? We ve 
 got to find out ; that s all ! But whether he s in the woods, or 
 in the house, either way, I reckon, we ve got him !" 
 
 " Got him ! I don t see." 
 
 " What are your eyes good for, I wonder ? For a fellow 
 that knows how to use cold steel, I reckon, Skin-the-Sarpent. 
 you re about the most bull-headed of all the blind cattle I 
 know!" 
 
 " Well, Dick, let s hear what you re good for ! What are 
 you going to do ?" ^ 
 
 " There d be no difficulty ef we had men enough, and men of 
 the right kind. But what s to be done with fellows that begin 
 the fight by dropping their tails? That s not the way to*do 
 anything ! When I hear a man say, It s no use to try, I m. 
 for knocking him on the head at once; bekaise, I know, a man 
 that sets out with that sort of sperrit, never does try with the 
 whole heart of a man ! What I wants of them that goes with 
 me, is never to think it possible for the game to go agin us, tell 
 he sees the stakes cleaned up and gone ! A man musn t even 
 believe he s dead, tell he feels the scalp off, and kain t lift a 
 leg to kick. Now, in this business, I ll tell you what s to be 
 done. Ralph Brunson must start off, right away, for Zeke Rod- 
 gers and his dogs. He s not quite five miles off. May be, he ll 
 find some of our fellows thar besides. We don t want but a 
 couple here; for it s no use having too many to set down to a 
 small dinner. But we must have Zeke, and his dogs, and a 
 man or two more, ef he s got em with him. Meantime, we 
 must skairt the avenue, and keep a lookout on all the cros 
 sings !" 
 
 " But, what ef we could find out ef Major Sinclair hes got to 
 the Barony ?" said Skin-the-Serpent. 
 
 " Find out ef you kin ! I don t see how you re to set about 
 it, onless we had a man to spare to send in, as a traveller, with 
 orders to look about him with a snake s eye, and see what s to 
 he seen under the table. But we ain t half strong enough now, 
 to watch the avenue and road rightly, or I d send Joe Best. 
 
[02 THE FORAYEBS. 
 
 Twill take tlie wlnle four of us, miglity sharp-sighted and spry 
 too, to kiver the roads, and watch the crossings." 
 
 At that moment, who should pop into the midst of the circle, 
 but our amiable overseer, Master Pete Blodgit. He wore the 
 most smiling face in the world, had heard every syllable that 
 had been said, and had conceived the idea of making himself 
 commendable to the outlaws, by volunteering to visit Zeke 
 Rodgers, leaving Ralph Branson to add to the resources of the 
 party, on the watch ; and, if need be, for the exploration of the 
 Barony itself. Full of this idea, and never doubting that he 
 should find a favorable reception from the outlaws, in their mo 
 ment of acknowledged difficulty, the worthy Pete popped into 
 the circle; but it would seem somewhat prematurely 
 
 The moment he became visible, All-fire Dick leaped upon 
 him and seized him by the throat. The outlaw was equally 
 vexed at being surprised, and followed. 
 
 "What the h-11 brought you hyar, you weasel-sperritted 
 rascal, when I told you to keep offl" 
 
 And he throttled the skulk, with steely fingers, until the 
 breath came out in a gurgle from his throat, along with broken 
 syllables of entreaty. 
 
 Lord ha marcy ! Oh ! I m a-cho choking !" 
 " What brought you hyar, you d d skunk, when I told you 
 not to come ?" cried the ruffian, as he hurled the fellow to the 
 earth and clapped his foot upon his neck. 
 
 " Ah ! be marciful ! be marciful ! I jest come to lend a hand 
 in case of needcessity." 
 
 " And what, in the name of , kin sicli a mean sneak and 
 
 coward as you do, when it s a business that needs nothing but 
 strong men only? You varmint! I know better what you 
 come for ! You thought there was to be some pickings, did 
 you ?_and you d have found fingers enough, after we had 
 found .the flesh ! But I ll slit your ears for you, you skunk ! - 
 
 I ll" 
 
 And, with these words, the outlaw drew his knife, a monstrDug 
 couteau de ckasse, worthy to compare with the bowie-knife of 
 recent days ; and, but for the interposition of " Skin-the-Ser- 
 pent," it is beyond question that the ears possibly 
 throat of the intruder, might have been made to pay the 
 
THE OUTLAWS IN COUNCIL. 108 
 
 penalty of his impertinence ; but " Skin-the-Seipent," who was 
 not wholly the fool that All-fire Dick declared him, inter- 
 pjsed, saying 
 
 " Stop, Dick, the fellow kin do some sarvice ! Hear what he s 
 a saying. It s reason ! He kin go for Zeke Rodgers and the 
 dogs, and then Rafe Brunson kin go to the Barony, and look 
 ahout him thar." 
 
 " No ! by thunder ! Ef anybody s to go to the Barony, it s 
 this mean sneak of a skunk. He s the right person to play the 
 spy ; he s got nateral recommendations for it ; and, by the 
 hocus, he shall do it ! Do you hear eh ?" 
 
 The suggestion, approved by the ruffians generally, was one 
 which did not commend itself to the party most concerned. 
 The quick fears of Pete Blodgit readily conceived the risk 
 which he should incur, making his appearance at the dwelling, 
 at the hands o f Major Sinclair, should the latter have really 
 reached the Barony in safety. Respited only from the knife 
 of " All-fire Dick," and permitted to rise, he trembled with the 
 dread of that redoubted person ; yet he felt, intuitively, that, to 
 accede to his requisition, was to incur almost as great a danger. 
 To steer an evasive course is, in all such cases, the usual resort 
 of imbecility. 
 
 " I reckon he ain t got to the Barony at all. His horse was 
 most gin out, when he come last night. He couldn t ha done 
 it, no how ! He s in the woods here, below, I m sartin ; and, ef 
 jou ll let me, I ll have Zeke Rodgers and his dogs here, in a 
 short two hours." 
 
 " Did we ax you for your thinking, you etarnal skunk ?" was 
 the reply of Dick, as he resumed his grasp upon the fellow s 
 throat, " Look you, thar s only one question, and I don t care 
 a button which way you answer it ; for my knife itches to be 
 at you, with a wipe that ll clean your ears close to the skull ! 
 Will you go ahead or not ?" And his finger pointed to the 
 avenue. Without waiting for his answer, the ruffian whirled 
 him about, applied his foot emphatically to the person cf the 
 overseer, an<? said 
 
 "Mount!" 
 
 Pete Blodgit was not the man for a prolonged resistance to 
 the wishes of a superior. He unfastened his horse from the 
 
104 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 swinging limb to which he had tethered him, mounted in 
 silence, and then paused. 
 
 "Well! why ain t you off ?" 
 
 " I wanted to hear what I must do." 
 
 " Snake through the settlement ! spy ! Use your eyes and 
 ears, and find out ef the man we re a ter has got up. You didn t 
 need to be told that. You know d it well enough. You kin do 
 it well too, ef you re a mind to, for that s the only business you re 
 good for." 
 
 " But suppose he s thar ?" 
 
 "Well ! that s what we wants to know." 
 
 " But, I reckon, ef he s thar, he ll hardly be willing to let me 
 come away agin." 
 
 " Why, what the , will he want with such a critter as 
 
 you?" 
 
 " He might make me a prisoner, or " 
 
 " Hang you, you think !" 
 
 An involuntary shiver of the overseer showed the outlaw 
 that he was on the raw of the difficulty. He proceeded : 
 
 " Ef he hangs you, Blodgit, though we don t care the most 
 etarnal button for your hide, yet, as you goes on our business, 
 we ll hang up every mortal man in the Barony, and on the same 
 tree, to keep you company. Thar now! be off! No more 
 words. Ef they makes you prisoner that is to say, ef you 
 ain t back agin in two hours we ll look arter you ! Thar s 
 enough of us, I reckon, to grapple our way into them Avails, and 
 tear you away with our teeth ! And we re the men to do it ! 
 So, don t be skeared ! You ll come off safely with hair and 
 hide. Be off, and do your sneaking like the old sarpent in the 
 garden." 
 
 Blodgit would still have lingered, having no just sense of the 
 satisfactory or compensative, contained in the promise that, if 
 hung, there should be company provided for him on the same 
 tree ; but Joe Best, a cool, quiet fellow, deliberately laid the 
 lash of his whip over his shoulders with such emphasis as to 
 settle instantly all further doubts on the part of the spy. He 
 was off for the road and avenue on the instant. 
 
 "Them s the only argymc *ts for sich a critter," was the com 
 mentary of the chief of the outlaws, which he accompanied 
 
THE OUTLAWS IN COUNCIL. 105 
 
 vrith a hearty chuckle. " And now, Ralph Brunson, do you bo 
 off at once for Zeke Rodgers and the dogs. We are not to stop 
 doing till we hear from Blodgit. The truth is, the fello\v stands 
 a chaince of getting roped in some way ; sure, ef Willie Sin 
 clair s got to the Barony. You see it s cl ar that Sinclair s 
 found Blodgit out. Well, he s jest the man to work his fingers 
 jest as his idecs work; and I shouldn t care a snap of my fin 
 gers ef he did knock the skunk of a fellow on the head." 
 
 " But then he s on our business, Dick," put in Skin-the-Ser- 
 pent. 
 
 " Jest so ! And, being on our business, ef he conies to any 
 harm, we must see him righted ! That s all cl ar enough ! 
 What I meant was, that, as for any use that Pete Blodgit s to 
 us, now that Sinclair s found him out, he s none ; and twouldn t 
 be of any consarn to us ef he was a hanging on the first tree, 
 to-morrow ! But AVC won t let him hang ef we kin help it, 
 while he s working on our account ; and we ll be as good as our 
 word, in hanging as many others as we kin lay our hands on, in 
 that blasted nobility consarn, ef so be they dare to put Pete 
 Biodgit s neck out of j int. That s jest now as sartin as ef I 
 had sworn it under the pulpit. Let s be driving, now, Sarpent. 
 We ll skairt the avenue and the lower fences, keeping close in 
 the bushes as we go." 
 
 The remaining outlaws now took horse. Ralph Brunson had 
 pushed off, almost as soon as ordered exhibiting nc such re 
 luctance as Pete Blodgit. This latter worthy was making his 
 way slowly to the dwelling, filled with many misgivings, and 
 bucily employed, mentally, in preparing the apologies for his 
 conduct, should he find Major Sinclair at the. Barony; and, in- 
 the event of his absence, a neat little narrative for the satisfac 
 tion of all other persons. Blodgit was not without a certain 
 sort of genius. It was eminently foxy and skunkish, but of 
 ealue and great use when practised upon those to whom the 
 3dor of either beast is yet unknown. 
 
 "Mass Willie." quoth Benny Bowlegs, peering into the 
 chamber of Carrie Sinclair, where the major of dragoons still 
 harbored, "sure as a gun, hyar s dat polecat, Pete Blodgit, 
 scorning up de ab nue." 
 
 " See to Kim at once, Benny, and keep close upon his foot 
 
 5* 
 
106 THE FORAl ERS 
 
 steps. See that he discovers nothing of me or mine Keep 
 him always in your sight, and remember, should he happen to 
 make any discoveries, rope him, and shut him up !" 
 " Sure for clat, maussa !" 
 
 Benny was no sluggard. He moved off with the step and 
 look of one who is equally prompt and determined. Certainly, 
 if ho has occasion to rope Blodgit and he will not be slow to 
 make the occasion he will not be at pains to provide a silken 
 garter. Five minutes after, he might be seen, with a significant 
 plough-line in his hands, conducting the dubious overseer, with 
 great apparent civility and attention, into the great hall where 
 Colonel Sinclair, half reclining, half sitting, was nursing his 
 podagra. But, before this presence could be reached, there were 
 ceremonial restraints without number, none of which would the 
 attentive Benny Bowlegs forego. He could spare none of the 
 civilities due to so proper a person as Mr. Pete Blodgit. 
 
 " Fassen dat hoss of Misser Pete Blodgit to fodder tree, you 
 little black Toby," was the cry of Benny Bowlegs, to the white- 
 shirted little son of sables, who stood at the portals 
 
 "Never mind, Benny, t will do thar, where I hitched him." 
 " Beg you pardon, Misser Pete Blodgit," responded Benny, 
 wit\ dignity, " twon t do dar at all ! Dat tree is plant for 
 grow, not for hoss to chaw ! Colonel Sincklar see dat hoss fas. 
 sened to dat tree, he will jist as lief cut dat hoss trote, right 
 away, as look pon em. You yerry black Toby? do as 1 
 tell you." 
 
 " Oh ! yes ! move him to the other tree, Benny, ef you think 
 your master won t like him at that," was the consenting an - 
 rather eager response of Blodgit, whose desire was by no means 
 to see the knife of the colonel and the weasand of his horse 
 more intimately acquainted. 
 
 Cut he trote, for true!" muttered Benny, " ef he cotch em 
 dar." 
 
 " The colonel s well, Benny, I reckon ?" 
 " I reckon not edzactly, Misser Pete Blodgit : lie s jest sick 
 enough to be all-fired skittish. You ll jes be prcticklar, Misser 
 Pete Blodgit, wha you guine say to em, for dis is de time wid 
 em nebber to top t ink wha sawt ob answer he guirip. mek ; 
 and he jest as leab speak to you wid de little gould-headed 
 
THE OUTLAWS IN COUNCIL. 107 
 
 knob ob he walking- tick, as wid de. civility ob de tongue! 
 Please member Misser Pete Blodgit, sence I no wants to carry 
 you down to you lioss wid you head all bloody, and maybe a 
 break somewhar in you tighbone or arm !" 
 
 " Thank you, Benny ; I ll be mighty considerant of his siti- 
 vation." 
 
 " Better for you, das all !" 
 
 Blodgit, at the entrance, seemed disposed to hesitate. The 
 door was open before him. 
 
 " Dis de way, Misser Pete Blodgit ; you must member ob 
 old, I reckon." 
 
 "Oh ! yes, Benny, I reckon I knows all about the Barony, 
 jest as well as them that lives here." 
 
 " Yes, Misser Pete Blodgit, I reckon you does ! You always 
 was mighty quick to look bout you wherebber you goes ; and, 
 sometimes, I reckon you look jes whay people don t want you 
 to set you eyes." 
 
 Blodgit felt that there was something in this speech offen 
 sively suggestive, and it ruffled him a little. He replied rather 
 quickly : 
 
 " Well, I spose I had a right to look jest where I did." 
 
 " Now, look yer, Misser Pete Blodgit, better you don t say 
 not ing to ole maussa bout you rights, and all dat sawt ob ting ; 
 kaise, you see, he s a gentleman what don t blieb berry much in 
 de rights ob poor buckrah ; and ef you talks to him bout you 
 right to look bout him, whay you please, you know wha he 
 guine say ?" 
 
 " What will he say. Benny ?" 
 
 " Well, he will say, Jes so, Misser Pete Blodgit, it s you 
 right to spy, may be, but it s my right for knock you on de 
 head for spy ii_ my house ! Das wha he guine to say ; and I 
 tell you, Misser Pete Blodgit, he guine do wha he say, sure as 
 t under." 
 
 " Well, I don t think he ll knock me down, Benny, for I ain t 
 a-guine to talk about my rights to spy in any man s place. I 
 don t spy, Benny, that s not my business." 
 
 "I berry grad for yerry you say so, Misser Pete Blodgit; 
 and now, ef you say you wants to see ole maussa, dar s de paat* 
 open for you. 
 
108 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 And, with a very lordly air, Benny waved his hand to the 
 open entrance, and Blodgit passed in, rather demurely, and 
 with his uneasiness somewhat increased hy the suspicious cour 
 tesies and sinister warnings of Ben Bowlegs. To the uninitia 
 ted and unobservant, we may mention here, that, had Blodgit 
 been at all in favor with the negro, the latter would have styled 
 him Mass Pete, or maussa ; the " Misser Pete Blodgit" was 
 very decidedly ceremonial, and it did not escape the notice of 
 the overseer. But no time was given him for reflection. Once 
 in the great passage, he was in sight from either of the two 
 large rooms which opened upon it, in one of which Colonel Sin 
 clair might be seen, half reclined upon an easy-chair, with his 
 game-leg stretched out upon a cushioned stool before him. His 
 gold-headed cane lay on the table, convenient to his grasp ; and 
 the massive knob on the top of it, marked with its owner s crest 
 and initials, appeared to Blodgit to have grown prodigiously 
 in its dimensions since he last had the satisfaction of looking 
 upon it. 
 
THE BARON- 109 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE BARON. 
 
 BLODGIT entered the presence with a manner studiously apolo 
 getic ; the humility of which, however, was quite unaffected. 
 He could not shake off the sense of that habitual awe, of the 
 lordly superior, in which he had been reared ; and he now 
 stood, cap in hand, shoulders bent, foot awkwardly scraping, and 
 a half-silly, half-smiling visage, which was designed to be very 
 conciliatory. 
 
 Col. Sinclair was one of the despots of the old school ; a gen 
 tleman no doubt among gentlemen ; but a lord to all others ; 
 ft man capable of generosity in high degree, and condescen 
 sion ; but one who expected that you should understand his 
 condescension, and feel his generosity. He was, really, a per 
 son of a C3ntury even older than his own; and though he fully 
 believed in Adam and Eve, as the parents of that prolific family 
 vulgarly recognised as the human, yet no priesthood in tiio 
 world could have persuaded him that there were not a great 
 many varieties of clay employed in the moulding of those 
 myriad varieties which constitute the sum total of the races 
 of men ! He had swayod as a superior sc long, and as a natural 
 superior, that it was not possible with him to question his OAVII 
 legitimacy, or to acknowledge the claims of that fungus multi 
 tude, which it needed another hundred years to raise, in any 
 degree, to a fairly human position. He really meant no scorn, 
 or contempt, when, without turning his head, or answering the 
 reverence of the overseer, he said : 
 
 " Well, what is it you want, Blodg.it ? What brings you 
 here without being sent for ?" 
 
 These words, uttered by stentorian lungs for in that day 
 empressment in voice and manner was by no means held to ba 
 vulgar among the Carolina aristocracy sustained by a lordly 
 
HO THE FORAYERS. 
 
 look, from brows of size and authority, white head, ruddy 
 cheeks, and a face originally nobly handsome, to say nothing 
 of a fine physique, broad shoulders, massy form, and the loftiest 
 stature these words, so uttered, and from such a person, had 
 the effect of additionally staggering the doubtful confidence of 
 the overseer; who twirled his cap, and slightly receded, and 
 muttered something unintelligibly. 
 
 " Speak out like a man, fellow ! What the devil scares you 1 
 You have something to say 1 Out with it, and no long talk !" 
 Thus urged, Blodgit made an effort. 
 
 Well, colonel, you see, I come about the major." 
 - The major ! and who s the major, I pray ?" 
 "Why, Major Willie Sinclair, sir, your son" 
 " And who authorized you, sirrah, to speak to me about that 
 young man 1 and who told you that I was prepared to hear of 
 him, and to recognise him in any military authority winch was 
 not recognised by his sovereign and mine 1 Do you suppose, 
 sir, that I am the man to tolerate his or your impertinence ? 
 know you to be one of his rapscallion followers ; but sirrah, it 
 will be time enough to thrust him, or them, upon my presence, 
 when I am prepared to summon them. If you have nothing 
 better to speak of, depart ! I desire to hear nothing of my son, 
 or of his elegant companions." 
 
 Listeners are said to hear but little good of themselves at any 
 time. Willie Sinclair was not in a situation to render the prov- 
 srb an erring one in his case. He was in the adjoining room with 
 his sister; not there, as a listener to his father, by any means, 
 but only of what should fall from the lips of Master Pete Blod 
 git. He smiled, grimly enough, as he heard the complimentary 
 tenor of the old man s speech. 
 
 Blodgit was nearly reduced to desperation at the determined 
 rejection of his only topic, by the person whom he sought ; 
 and, in his despair, as is usual in such cases, he resorted to ex 
 aggeration in order to compel attention : 
 " Don t want to make you angry, Co! " 
 " Then don t make me angry !" 
 
 "That s it, colonel! I don t want to make you angry 
 but you see, last night 
 
 " Well, what of last night ?" 
 
THE BARON. Ill 
 
 u Why, sir, you see- 
 
 " Stop sir a moment! what do yoa mean by lingering 
 here, Benny ? are you wanted in the house ? Is n t your prop 
 er place in the fields, old fellow ?" 
 
 Benny, it must be remembered, had assigned him the special 
 duty of keeping Blodgit constantly in sight. He had suffered 
 himself to appear more than once in his master s presence, un 
 necessarily, it would seem, in the performance.of this*duty. But 
 he had no such reasons as Blodgit for showing himself abashed. 
 He answered the inquiry steadily, with the confident freedom 
 of one who not only knows his own honesty of purpose, but who 
 feels sure of its general recognition. 
 
 "Proper place sometime in de fields, maussa; sometime 
 in de house ! Proper place whar de officer ob de day puts me ; 
 and when he don know bout de position ob de inimy, den 
 proper pkce whay I puts myself, to do snrbice !" 
 
 " You are a vain old rascal, Benny ; and will fancy yourself 
 a soldier. Beware how you come within reach of my cane, old 
 fellow " 
 
 " Hah ! Mass Kurnel ; der s pussons in dis wurl, and a many 
 ob am too, dat ought to taste dat cane long fore he reach de 
 shoulders of dis nigger! I hab bunness yer, Mass Kurnel; 
 I hab inquisitions for Misser Pete Blodgit, whenebber you c one 
 vad em; der s some cattle business atwixtus." 
 
 "Very well! Ton can wait with your inquisitions. It is 
 Mister Pete Blodgit that has to do with me. Go on now, sir. 
 You will perceive that I have no claim upon yaur attention, 
 while my servant has." 
 
 Blodgit s desperation and vexation too had increased 
 duly, during this little episode ; and with the air of a man re 
 signed :o his fate, he blurted out : 
 
 . " Well, kurnel, all I ve got to say is jest this, that ef your 
 son, the major, aint got safely here last night, or maybe by day 
 light this morning, then it s a mighty hard thing to say that 
 he ll ever get here at all again ! It s a despret likely chance 
 that they ve cotched and murdered him along the road!" 
 
 " Caught ! Murdered ! Willie murdered ! " And the old 
 man caught up his staff, and made a desperate effort to rise, but 
 fell back in the fruitless attempt ^vhile a sharp cry attested tb 
 
112 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 acute spasm which wrung his foot possibly his heart, : at 
 that moment. In an instant, Carrie Sinclair rushed in from 
 the interior, where she had remained perdu with her brother 
 and unloosed the old man s cravat, while she cried 
 
 11 Oh ! don t believe it ! It s all false. Willie s in no dan 
 ger, father ! He s not murdered !" 
 
 " Then he got here, safe, ma am V inquired Blodgit eagerly 
 his eye straining upon hers. 
 
 The ready wit of the maiden came to her rescue. The eager 
 inquiry taught her of the near approach which she had made to 
 the revelation of her secret. 
 
 Got here!" she exclaimed, turning to the spy. "Then 
 where is he 1 Why do we not see him ? Go, good Blodgit, 
 and bring him to us at once." 
 
 " Jes you tell me, whay for fin em, Pete Blodgit. I kin go 
 fetch em ef you tell me whay for look?" So spoke brave 
 Benny Bowlegs. 
 
 That s jest what I kaint do, now ; for I came here, you tee, 
 to look a ter him, and see ef he was safe. I know d them bloody 
 chaps wor a ter him last night ; fur I heard em a-screaming up 
 the road jest a ter the major pushed off; and ef they cotchsd 
 him, with the heap ef guineas he had about him, I reckon they d 
 make no bones of putting a bullet into him, or a knife." 
 
 " And who dcm peotf.e bin ?" demanded Benny, with an air 
 of the most perfect eineeritv. 
 
 " Who, but the most sav-igest of all the tories in these parts 
 
 Hell-fire Dick, and Skin-the-Sarpent, and Rafe Brunson, and 
 
 Joe Best, and, I reckon, thar was others too, and they had 
 dogs." 
 
 The old man groaned convulsively ; then seemed to recover, 
 and, feebly speaking, though with quite a determined effort at 
 composure, he said 
 
 " And so you know nothing more, Mr. Blodgit ?" 
 
 Not the weight of a feather, colonel. I pushed off at peep 
 j day t( see a ter him ; but there was nothing and nobody to 
 be Deed anywhar. Thar wor hoof-marks enough long the 
 ::>ad ; so thar war no telling. I reckon, the major hadn t time 
 TO e*op, and pushed on above, and they a ter him. Ef he ain t 
 here, he s may be gone above." 
 
THE BARON. 113 
 
 The faintest possible smile turned the corner of Benny 
 Bowlegs mouth, like a little errant sunbeam through the wooda 
 peeping into a country smithy ; but he soon heaped over it all 
 the charcoal in his complexion, and it totally escaped Blodgit s 
 vision. His faculty was in the discovery of material matters 
 only. By this time, the redoubtable colonel had begun to re 
 cover some of his strength and soldiership. 
 
 " What a d d condition it is tj be in ! This cursed foot !" 
 and he looked down upon the member so much more sinned 
 against than sinning with some such look as the axe might be 
 supposed to have worn when it bit down through the purple ar 
 teries of fair Anne Boleyn s neck. He continued no doubt 
 perceiving how very idle it would be to waste his epithets of 
 anger on his own foot turning to Blodgit 
 
 "And you, a man grown, with gun and rifle in your hands 
 you allowed the wretched boy to be shot down and butchered 
 in your sight, without so much as lifting weapon ?" 
 
 " Lord bless you, kurnel, I didn t see it, nor them. I jest 
 hearn them and their dogs, as they went by, full speed, a ter 
 the major, and he with all that money !" 
 
 " The rebel to his king ! He deserves his fate ; but you ! 
 you could wait till daylight, before you came to give the alarm, 
 instead of dashing after them ! " 
 
 " Why, Lord, kurnel, what was I to do, and a lame man too, 
 ag in the most powerful, strong fighting-men of all the tories 
 
 " Loyalists, sirrah ! loyalists ! Though, by the way, these 
 fellows of whom you speak are mere outlaws " 
 
 " I reckon, you re right thar !" 
 
 " Le me ax you, Misser Pete Blodgit, whay Mass Willie bin 
 git all dcm guineas?" 
 
 " Well, he got a smart chaince of them from me. I reckon, 
 going on to a hundred ; and, I reckon, he had as many more 
 besides from other people." 
 
 " And where did you get a hundred guineas ?" demanded the 
 colonel. 
 
 " Why, kurnel, from the corn and fodder, you see, and the 
 kaives, and other things. The bettermost part Vlonged to 
 Miss Carrie here, that I had killected for her from sales." 
 
 " And tell me, Missir IV B Blodgit, Low dem blackguard gem 
 
114 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 piemen come for know Mass Willie hab all dat heap o guinea?" 
 asked Benny, with a grave slyness and squint of eye. 
 
 " How they know d ? Well, I reckon they had a suspicion 
 of it : they reckon d he wan t a travelling about with nothing to 
 go upon. But I don t know that they know d at all !" 
 
 We must suppose a good many other questions asked and an 
 swered after a fashion ; but, it will be readily understood, that, 
 during the whole investigation, there was a certain constraint 
 over all the parties, with the exception of the colonel. The 
 daughter and Benny Bowlegs could not reveal their secret ; 
 and Blodgit, from policy, kept his. The task before the daugh 
 ter was a severe one : to see her father suffer to hear his in 
 voluntary groan of anguish to witness the struggle between 
 his pride, and the deep-seated but suppressed affections in his 
 heart and to remain silent, when it was in her power, by a 
 single word, to relieve him of all his mental suffering at least ! 
 
 " What is to be done V moaned, rather than spoke the father, 
 forgetting all his Roman resolutions. " Would to God, I were 
 able to take the saddle !" 
 
 He looked inquiringly at Blodgit, but turned away with a 
 sickening gesture. 
 
 "Nothing from him !" he murmured despondingly. Sudden 
 ly his eye caught that of Benny Bowlegs. " Ha ! what s to 
 prevent you ? You are able to mount horse, and use sabre, if 
 needs be ; and there is Little Peter, who will fight for Willie 
 too ! How is it, Ben. that I have to say to you Go and find 
 Willie Sinclair, living or dead, and bring him to his father ?" 
 
 " De Lawd in heabben be praise, maussa ! I gone ! Come, 
 Misser Pete Blodgit ; we kin go togedder ; me, you, and Little 
 Peter. We kin all go togedder by differen roads. You ride 
 down, Misser Pete Blodgit ; and little Peter and me, one, will 
 ride up. When you gits in de tick [thick] woods you scatter 
 you men; and me and Peter will scatter we two, and s arch 
 ^bbrywhare !" 
 
 This very definite arrangement chimed in with Blodgit s de 
 sires. He had no wish .hat the negro, whom he somewhat 
 feared, should accompany him below. He was satisfied that 
 Willie Sinclair was not at the Barony. The old man s agony 
 could not have been simulated. He had fulfilled his task suf- 
 
THE BARON. 135 
 
 ficiently satisfactorily, as he thought and there was nothing 
 in the eye of Colonel Sinclair, or that of his daughter, which 
 encouraged him to remain. Of course, he bowed himself out as 
 reverently as he came, the colonel scarcely heeding his expres 
 sions of devotion and adieu ; and Benny Bowlegs was particu 
 larly careful to escort the overseer to his nag, and see him on 
 his way. He had ordered horses, in the hearing of Blodgit, for 
 himself and little Pster , and when the former rode off, he re 
 peated his instructions for that " s arch below" in which Blod 
 git was to scatter himself abroad, for the thorough exploration 
 of the thick forests. The spy, once out of sight, Benny had 
 his horses quietly put back into the stables. 
 
 Meanwhile, the old warrior, the stoical philosopher, the Ro - 
 man father, relieved of the presence of the stranger, buried hia 
 face in his hands with a terrible burst of anguish, exclaiming in 
 the very words of the minstrel monarch 
 
 " My son ! my son ! would God that I had died for thee, my 
 son !" 
 
 The tears gushed from Willie Sinclair s eyes in his place of 
 hiding, where he had heard every syllable. He could scarce 
 contain himself; and it required a prodigious effort to avoid 
 rushing forth and throwing himself at his father s feet But 
 Carrie Sinclair, twining her arms about the old man s neck, 
 exclaimed 
 
 " Oh ! father, do not fear ! There is nothing to fear ! It is 
 not true that brother is in any danger ! Willie has escaped the 
 outlaws !" 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! escaped, has he ? Escaped ! are you sure of it ? 
 How do you come to know ?" 
 
 " Benny is sure of it, father \ He knows ! He is certain !" 
 
 " If Benny is certain, I am satisfied ! Escaped the blood 
 hounds, has he ? Ah ! " A long deep moan of relief. This 
 over, he looked up angrily "And why did neither of you tell 
 me this before ? Why did you suffer me to expose myself be 
 fore that reptile ?" 
 
 " It was because Benny had reasons, father, for keeping that 
 very person in ignorance of our knowledge." 
 
 "Benny is becoming too. strategical by half! Why the 
 mystery ? Is not this fellow, Blodgit, in the employ of Willie 
 
116 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Sinclair 1 What good reason is there for keeping him from 3 
 fact in which he is naturally interested. Did he not show big 
 interest, in the very act of coming here in search of him ?" 
 
 Benny reappeared at this very moment, and heard find 
 understood the remark. 
 
 " Shet up, maussa," he said coolly, " and no bodder yourseb 
 v/id dis transaction. You hab nough to bodder you. Tit 
 nough; I tell you now, dat dem d :a skunk, dat run Masi 
 Willie List night, no hab de nose for follow i He git shet oh 
 dcm ! I know ! I see ! I bin talk wid em myself dis morn 
 ing, by times, so help me God !" 
 
 " You did ! You spoke with Willie this morning ?" 
 " Jes so ! A good hour fo daylight." 
 " And Willie talked with you ?" 
 " Jes so ! I yerry em talk." 
 " And you spoke with him ?" 
 " Zackly ! I tell em heap o tings/ 
 " You saw him, too, with your eyes open ?" 
 " Jes so, maussa ! and feel em wid my open ban !" 
 " Ah ! to feel his wounds ! He was hurt?" 
 "He no hab hu t [hurt] any whar ! I shake he han s, like 
 one gempleman shake han wid noder gempleman ; and I feed 
 em ! I gi em someting for eat." 
 
 " And he ate ! did he ] you saw him eat?" 
 "Like a mighty trong [strong] man, wid a mighty sharp 
 tomach, maussa." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! He had an appetite, had he ?" 
 This was said with a convulsive chuckle. In a moment after, 
 with changed voice 
 
 " And why, you d d rascal, do you tell me these things ? 
 What is it to me whether the rebel you speak of has an appe 
 tite or not 1 Do you suppose I care a straw whether he can 
 speak with you or not ; can see you or not ? or whether you 
 see or speak with him ? I wish to hear nothing of this sort in 
 future ! Carrie, my child, you will please remember my wishes. 
 As for you, you sooty rascal, begone from my sight ! Do not 
 come within reach of my stick ! Do not let me see you again 
 to-day !" 
 
 Benny Bowlegs walked out very composedly, a grin mantling 
 
THE BARON. 11 I 
 
 his visage as SCOP as his back was turned. Carrie Sinclair went 
 up to her father ; but he repulsed her gently. His eyes were 
 moist, and his face was in an instant covered in his hands 
 Willie Sinclair peeped through the half-opened door at him, 
 while he sate in this position ; but he did not venture to ap 
 proach. The son s eyes were very full of tears, when his sistei 
 rejoined him, and in her chamber they retired to weep together 
 for awhile: m which performance, we may add, that 
 Sinclair was soon very fast asleep. 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTER ZTI. 
 
 HKLL-F1RE DICK ENGAGES IN /. NEW VEAiTURV 
 
 IT was by no means a difficult task with Pete Blodgit -a 
 fellow very well versed in woodcraft to find the traces of the 
 scouting party under "All-fire Dick," and to make his way to 
 the spot where they harbored. He first encountered " Skin- 
 the-Serpent," whom he accompanied until they came up with 
 Joe Best ; and the three then rode on together till they found 
 the leader of the gang, who was more deeply buried in the 
 woods. Ralph Brunspn had not yet returned with Zeke Rodgers 
 and his bloodhounds, and Dick, the captain, was fast becoming 
 impatient, in his eagerness to begin the chase. 
 
 In a thick copse, some half a mile in the rear of the garden 
 of the Barony, the whole party assembled ; and here, all alight 
 ed, and our overseer made his report. His conviction, that 
 Willie Sinclair had not yet succeeded in making his way to the 
 mansion-house, was naturally that of the group ; and they now 
 longed for nothing so eagerly as the arrival of Brunson, Eodgers, 
 and the dogs, in order to run down the fugitive with his burden 
 some bag of guineas. To beat the woods, or make any alarm, 
 until the hounds and the additional force of hunters were put 
 on the scent, was no more their policy than it would have been 
 had their game been the royal luck himself. But, while they 
 all declared their impatience at the delay, a new and bolder 
 idea seized upon All-tire .Dick, induced by some of the particu 
 lars given by Blodget in his narration of what happened on his 
 visit. Dick, the Diabolical, had listened for a while in silence; 
 but now put in : 
 
 " You say," said he to the overseer, " that the old man kain t 
 move his timbers?" 
 
 " Kain t stir a peg, no more than ef he had no legs at all. 
 Thar he sets in a big chair with soft cushions; and his legs lay 
 
HELL-FIRE DICK ENGAGES IN A NEW VENTURE. 119 
 
 on a bench covered with saft pillows ; and he sets by the table; 
 and his gould-headed stick lays on the table easy to his hands. 
 Jest so I left him. When he wants to move, Little Peter lifts 
 him about from place to place." 
 
 The dem d old rascal ! He was always trying to look like 
 a sort of king !" exclaimed Skin-the-Serpent. 
 
 " Jest so ! and he never had a good word yit for a poor man ! 
 He talked to me jest as ef I was no better than a nigger." 
 
 " Well ! he s rich, I reckon !" quoth Dick. 
 
 " Rich as a Jew, they say ; but that don t give him any 
 Christian right to talk to a poor man as ef he was a nigger." 
 
 " Yes ! a rich man has a right to talk as he pleases ! and you 
 knows it ; and you feels it ! Ef you didn t, why didn t you 
 clap a stopper on his mouth when he talked to yon as ef you 
 was a nigger]" was the retort of Dick. 
 
 " I d like to know how I was to do that ?" 
 
 " You d like to know ! Why, i man natorally knows, when 
 lie s got the heart of a man boating in his buzzum ! Hadn t 
 you your arms, and hands, and feet ; and wan t you armed with 
 a whip ; and hadn t you a knife in your belt; and wan t he 
 tlnir before you, disabled as I may say enable to lift a limb 
 to help himself agin an inirny ?" 
 
 Yes, but thar was that double -j inted nigger, Benny Bow- 
 legs; a fellow that s as strong as a horse, and ain t afeard of 
 the devil ; and didn t I know that Little Peter was nigh about, 
 too? and he s as strong as Benny, and he ain t afearec^ neither ! 
 Ef I had lifted finger agin the kurnel, they d ha mounted me 
 right away ; and I couldn t ha held a hand agin them two ! 
 If it hadn t been for them, I d ha soon showed the old kurnel 
 that he wan t to hev his own way always. I thought of giving 
 him a wipe with a hickory towel more than once." 
 
 "You thought of it, did you !" quoth the outlaw chief, with a 
 look expressive of the fullest disgust. " And I tell you, Pete 
 Blodgit, that you d no more have thought of lifting we pon agin 
 ole Sinclair, disabled as he is, so long as his eyes was upon you, 
 than you d ha thought of fighting a whole British rigiment \ 
 It wan t the niggers that kept you from trying your hands upon 
 him; but twas his eyes upon your n ; and your own cowardly 
 sperrit : and what you knowed of him of old : for, impudent as 
 
120 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 he is, and a tyrant all over, there s no denying that he s got 
 spivnk enough to fight the devil. But I ain t af eared of him ; 
 and I never seed the nigger yit that had the impidence to look 
 into my eyes ; and I ll go and and hev a talk with the old ras 
 cal, and see what 7 can make out of him ?" 
 
 " You go to the Barony ? and what for?" said Skin-the- 
 Serpent, suspiciously. " The young fellow ain t thar !" 
 
 " But the old one is ?" 
 
 " Well, but it s neither the old one nor the young one that 
 ye wants it s the guineas." 
 
 " Jest so, Sarpent, and it s the guineas that I m arter. Thai 
 must be smart pickings in that old house, I m a thinking. The 
 colonel s rich as a Jew. Why, the very stick that he walks with 
 lias as much as five guineas on the head of it ! And I reckon 
 thar s a chist of gould and silver put away somewhar about, 
 and the young woman has her jewels and fine things." 
 
 Well, but how are you to git at them ?" 
 
 " That s for me to find out ! I wants to see how the land lies ; 
 and what Blodgit tells us, shows that it s mighty easy, jist now, 
 to do so. I wouldn t like to come sudden up with the old kurnel, 
 ef he had his limbs and strength, and we pons at hand ; but, 
 you see, he ain t able to stir a peg, and I takes him by surprise. 
 The niggers I ain t afeared of; and don t you hear what Blodgit 
 says, that they ve started off, jest now, when he did, to beat the 
 upper woods a-s arching arter the body of the major ? Ha ! ha! 
 ha ! s ai;cliing arter the dead body of a man what s alive and 
 kicking. Well ! don t you see that it s a first-rate chaince, jest 
 now, to look into the premises, and see what there is worth 
 picking up." 
 
 The adventure became suddenly very plausible in the eyes of 
 c,:.e group. Skin-the-Serpent, in particular, seemed disposed to 
 abandon the hunt of the son, in order to do honor to the father. 
 They all began to suspect that the shares of Dick were to be 
 unnecessarily large. 
 
 " It won t do for you one to go. We kin all go. I reckon 
 there 11 be more than all of us kin bring away !" So spoke 
 Skin-the-Serpent. 
 
 Even Blodgit was not unwilling to return to the Barony ; fol 
 lowing, Jackal-fasluou, in the wake of the proper beasfs of 
 
HELL-FIRE DICK ENGAGES IN A NEW VENTURE. 121 
 
 prey. But Dick s genius jver-ruled the rest with its usual po 
 tency. 
 
 " Twon t do ! That s jist the way with you ! You d all start 
 off, after the fresh Seer, though you were on the hot scent ot 
 the old one, and jist about to run him down ! And you d go 
 to the Barony, and be loading yourself down with more than 
 you could carry ; so that if an inimy should git upon your track, 
 you d have neither the heart to fight, nor the heels to run. It s 
 the baggage-wagons that half the time defeats the army. Now, 
 I m not for gutting the Barony, I m for picking up only what I 
 can safely put away ; nice little things by way of ornament ; 
 rings, and seals, and breastpins, and the like; as many watches 
 and silver spoons, as will lie snug together in coat and breeches 
 pocket ; and as large a bag of gould as will set easy on a nag s 
 quarters. It may be that there s no gould at the house to be 
 got at. They hide away sicli matters pretty closely ; and then 
 the old kurnel s sich a d d obstinate colt, that he d never tell, 
 even though you was a-cutting his tongue out with a sheep s 
 scissors. But we know that the young one has the pure kinage 
 [coinage] in guineas, to the tune of one hundred, or thereabouts, 
 and we know that he s in these woods ; and hyar [here] you 
 must watch and wait till Brunson and Rodgers come in with 
 the dogs; and, by that time, I hopes to be back with you and 
 take a hand in the hunt ! It s only a short wisit that I means to 
 pay the kurnel ; and if the men and dogs were ready, hyar, I 
 shouldn t think of going to the Barony. But I kaint bear to 
 be sucking my thumbs. I must be a-doing ; and one hour or 
 so kaint spile our chainces in the hunt after the young buck." 
 
 Of course, he silenced opposition, as was his wont. He gave 
 his instructions in brief terms. His plans had been promptly 
 conceived, as is always the case with the determined will. 
 
 " Hyar," said he, " we re half a mile only to the back of the 
 garden ; and the garden s but a small distance to the house. 
 I ll only have to pull down a feAV rails to get into the grounds, 
 and there s a smart sprinkling of trees, that 11 cover me pretty 
 close till I gets nigh to the building. Look for me baick in a 
 short hour and a-hafe ! Keep the dogs close till I come ! 
 Skairt the line of fences. Keep one of the fellows stationed 
 the road at Fryar s Bend All that you ve got to do is 
 
192 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 jest to keep the young one from gitting above you. That s 
 all !" 
 
 " S pose something should happen to you, Dick ?" suggested 
 Skin-the-Serpent. 
 
 " What s to happen ?" 
 
 " Why, s pose the kurnel s got a we pon hid away close at 
 hand ? He s an old sodger you know." 
 
 " You hear Pete Blodgit says he haint ! Why should he ? 
 He don t think there s any danger. He don t calkilate our 
 chainces just now, when both armies is so far above. But, if I 
 aint back here in a short hour and a-hafe, then, prehaps, you d 
 better ride up in a body, and ax after me. That s the how !" 
 
 With these words, having satisfied all scruples, silenced all 
 objections, completed his instructions, the outlaw departed on 
 his audacious adventure. 
 
 He rode a powerful steed, not so showy as useful, and he was 
 a dextrous and fearless rider. Suppose, in his case, as in that 
 of most of the common people of this country, that the costume 
 of our Dick of Tophet was of ordinary blue homespun, trowsers 
 and hunting shirt, yellow fringed, a rough and ragged coon-skin 
 cap; that he was weaponed with broadsword and pistols, like 
 a regular dragoon; as, indeed, he had been and on both 
 sides of the war; and that his hirsute visage was just as sav 
 age as a wild grin, a sabre cut, untrimmed beard, unkempt hair 
 and a general scorn of appearances could render it; and you 
 can conceive sufficiently of the sensation which such a visiter 
 will surely make when he penetrates he parlor of Sinclair s 
 " Barony." 
 
NEW SIGNS IN THE SKY. 12< 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 NEW SIGNS IN THE SKY. 
 
 BUT tlie slumbers of our dragoon were slight and soon broken. 
 Very brief was the respite which Willie Sinclair had seized 
 from the necessities of war, in which to visit the old familiar 
 places of his shildhood, and once more to embrace the sisters of 
 his love. It \vas, of course, a great qualification of his happi 
 ness that he was not permitted to approach his father ; as the 
 reader will have already inferred, from our hurried sketching, 
 he was, in great degree, an outcast from the affections of the old 
 man. Not that the terms between them had produced the for 
 mal banishment of the son ; but that they were of such a nature, 
 as to embitter their interviews when they met, with such sharp 
 and biting controversies, as made it prudent for the young man 
 to keep aloof. For months they had not met. 
 
 The father, a devoted loyalist, was naturally aroused to 
 extremest anger, because of his son s active alliance with 
 the cause of the American patriots. That he had had fre- 
 quejit successes, and had been honored with rapid promotion, 
 in consequence, was rather an aggravation of his offence than 
 an appeal to the paternal amour propre. When he heard of 
 him, as he did occasionally, it was always to provoke his ire, 
 no matter what the tidings. The report of his son s valor and 
 ability, however grateful it might be in itself, was by no means a 
 subject of exultation, when these qualities were exercised against 
 the sovereign, for whose authority the old man entertained an 
 almost religious reverence. But, even this cause of anger, suf 
 ficient in itself, was increased by another, in the misplaced af 
 fections of the young man. Colonel Sinclair was a natural 
 aristocrat. His conventional world had confirmed the despotic 
 character of his mind, and trained him to regard the family con- 
 
124 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 nections as involving a degree of scrupulosity, which forbade 
 entirely the possibility of unequal alliances. Blood was always, 
 with him, a chief consideration in the affairs of the affections ; 
 but he made the conditions 01 blood to depend, as is the too 
 common error with all such persons, upon genealogical proofs 
 merely; never once recognising that beautiful property in 
 Nature, by which she is continually repairing exhausted foun 
 tains, by turning in upon them new streams, from sources of 
 strength and virtue, which have not hitherto been known. The 
 repair of broken cisterns from vulgar clays, is, in fact, one of 
 her great remedial processes, for the regeneration and the sav 
 ing of decaying stocks. But Col. Sinclair was not a philosopher, 
 and between his passion and his pride, he was not in a mood 
 to acknowledge the force of any argument which told in behalf 
 of a son who had already offended both. He had then, as we 
 have seen, cut himself off, temporarily, from the gratification of 
 that, precious human feeling, which might have gathered new 
 life from, and yielded new delights in return for, the embrace 
 with an heir who had sufficiently shown, to the eyes of all other 
 persons, that the family name was destined to receive new dis 
 tinction, and not discredit, from his performances. The old man 
 sate lonely, therefore ; brooding sadly, in a still continued strug 
 gle between his wounded pride, and the only half-hidden, but 
 fond affection, which lay warm and watchful about his heart. 
 His was the self-torturing sort of nature which perpetually ex 
 ercises itself in irritating its own hurts of mind or body. 
 
 It is not to be denied that Willie Sinclair had that morning 
 found a grateful proof of this lurking sentiment of love, on the 
 old man s part, in the agony which he betrayed when first told 
 of his son s danger and possible death. He enjoyed, in that 
 spectacle, renewed securities in behalf of that parental affection 
 which no son had ever valued more ; and, with his own heart 
 bounding with gratitude, and his own eyes overflowing with 
 tears, it must be forgiven to him that he joyed in the old man s 
 burst of anguish which spoke much more truly the feelings in 
 his bosom than the words which ordinarily fell from his tongue. 
 -He loves me still his heart is in the right place!" the 
 youth said to his sister when they were alone together in her 
 chamber. 
 
NEW SIGNS IN THE SKY. 125 
 
 " Oh ! yes ! I felt, all the while, Willie, that it mast be so 
 In spite of all his violent speeches. Though, rcally;it was some 
 times terrible to hear him. It was his gout, I suspect, that made 
 him so bitter of speech ; and the visit of Captain Travis took 
 place, unhappily, just when he was most suffering. Le has be 
 sides some very strong prejudices against that person." 
 
 " He has reason for them. He knows the weaknesses and er- 
 lors of Captain Travis, whose passion is a love of money, as tha* 
 of my father is family pride. I am sorry to admit that, in the 
 indulgence of this passion, Captain Travis has not always shown 
 himself scrupulous of propriety. It is the knowledge of some 
 of his mal-practices, while on the Cherokee expedition, that 
 makes my father hold him in such scorn. But Bertha will rec 
 oncile him, when he comes to know Tier. She is one of the 
 purest of living creatures, and with so much power too such 
 thought as well as purity such strength as well as grace and 
 beauty that I feel sure of her influence over him, as soon as 
 she has the opportunity allowed her of acting upon his sense of 
 truth and justice. She will disarm him. I am very sure." 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie, with a brightening face, taking her 
 brother s hand, " for, Willie, with all his prejudices, father is 
 just in the end only give him time and all will be right." 
 
 " Yet he has tried me very severely, Carrie," responded the 
 brother very gravely. 
 
 " Ah ! Willie, he has tried himself still more ; and you, 
 brother, you, too, have tried him ! Think of his loyalty that he 
 aas borne the king s commission how he prided himself upon 
 it, and how keenly he must feel the course you hav~e pursued in 
 taking up with the liberty party. And then, think of the trial 
 to his social pride when he heard of this engagement with 
 Bertha Travis. It seemed to him, Willie, as if you were trying 
 all ways to crush and mortify him." 
 
 " Ah, Carrie, you are right to teach me tnat the argument 
 has two faces. It has been so natural and easy to think, all 
 the while, that I was the one whom he sought to crush and 
 humble." 
 
 " But you must think so no more, Willie. You see, now 
 what are his real feelings. Give him time, I do not despair of 
 seeing him as fond of you Bertha, as you are yourself; if" 
 
1-26 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 lierc she smiled and pressed his hand " if, indeed, she answers 
 the description you give of her." 
 
 " What ! you fancy my painting that of a self-deluded lover ?" 
 A little !" 
 
 " Ancf I the most matter-of-fact person in the world ; cool, 
 cautious, calculating, with no more fancy than a plough-horse." 
 I suppose a plough-horse has his fancies, when out of the 
 ti *ices, and after an hour s browsing in pleasant pastures. I give 
 you an equal degree of credit. I suppose, could he speak, he 
 would indulge in superlatives about his elysimn nay, no more 
 protestations ! Enough, Willie, that she is your favorite. That 
 is enough to make her mine to make me believe very much 
 as you desire." 
 
 " Well, I hope for an early opportunity to enable you to 
 judge for yourself. You will, all of you, in all probability, be 
 compelled to cross the river and retreat to the hills of Santee. 
 The war will soon approach this quarter. Rawdon is on his 
 retreat. Greene will press upon his heels. Orangeburg must 
 be one of the places which he will seek to hold, at all hazards, 
 for a time, at all events and there -will then be no possi 
 bility to escape a battle. You will have to remove from this 
 neighborhood, which will then be covered with th-e troops of both 
 parties in turn. Captain Travis will be under a like necessity 
 of getting his family out of the way ; and, unless he is more 
 deeply committed to the British than I believe, you will prob 
 ably meet on the hills." 
 
 " Do you suppose father will leave the Barony because of 
 this approach of war? He will spurn the idea. It will be 
 difficult to persuade him that he will not find perfect safety 
 under the British Lion." 
 
 "We must teach him the absurdity of such a notion now 
 and we can. The day of his perfect faith in British prowess is 
 pretty much gone by. He can not deceive himself much longer 
 as to the result of this struggle." 
 
 " Ah ! I don t see that ! He will not see it ! He does not 
 believe your assurances, or that of your party ; and the British 
 maintain appearances well. When Lord Rawdon was here last, 
 and father expressed his anxieties in respect to the successes of 
 Marion and Sumter, my lord laughed at them ; spoke of them 
 
NEW SIGNS IN THE SKY. 127 
 
 with perfect contempt ; insisted upon them as gross exaggera 
 tions,- the small performances of a petty outlawry which would 
 be crushed at once, were they not almost too insignificant for 
 attention." 
 
 " An4 my father believed him ]" 
 
 "He could not less. He desired to believe him; and his 
 lordship seemed to be of unquestionable authority. The rais 
 ing of the siege of Ninety-Six confirms him in the belief." 
 
 " He knows not then of the British abandonment of the post 
 as soon as Greene was driven off. He will yet see fearful proofs 
 of the fruits of this abandonment. Under the escort of Cruger, 
 more than two thousand of the wretched loyalists, men, 
 women, and children, their entire families, are on their way to 
 the seaboard. The British are no longer able to protect them 
 in their homes. Post after post is thus abandoned ; and soon, 
 the same future awaits the post at Orangeburg. Soon, the 
 British army will be confined to Charleston, and they are des 
 tined to be driven thence as certainly." 
 
 " Not if they receive new regiments from Europe ! Upon 
 this my father counts. It was Lord Rawdon s assurance that 
 there should be no lack of troops." 
 
 " An idle one. The British exchequer is exhausted. The 
 British nation is prepared to refuse all further subsidies. They 
 can obtain no more troops from Germany. They can no 
 longer pay them if they could get them. Their best hope lay 
 in the strength of the loyalists. The game was to make one 
 half of the people fight the other half; but this hope is failing 
 fast. Their only resource, for new regiments, is Ireland, and 
 the Irish desert their ranks almost as soon as they take the 
 field. Rawdon can no longer yield his confidence to his own 
 regiments. The fate of the war is inevitable. It needs only 
 that we should avoid a general engagement. If we can pro 
 long the struggle for six months, and avoid all serious disaster 
 in the meanwhile, we triumph." 
 
 We must not omit to mention, that Carrie Sinclair was, her 
 self no moderate rebel. She sided fully with her brother in 
 his principles and hopes. Her feminine nature could not ex 
 actly feel his confidence, however ; and her father s prejudices 
 and passions served to prevent her from any unnecessary dis- 
 
liS THE FORAYERS. 
 
 play of her sympathies. That her lover wore the patriot colors 
 was perhaps an additional reason for the faith which she enter 
 tained in the cause of liberty. She was a willing listener to her 
 brother. Her soul was an ardent one, and she lent an eager ear 
 to his narratives of the struggle in sundry places. He .brought 
 down the progress of the war to the present moment, for her 
 ^ntisfaction ; and she soon learned to feel all his confidence 
 That she was gentle and submissive when with him and with 
 her father that she could sympathize with the one, and for 
 bear silently with the other, were only in proof of her filial 
 and sisterly affections. In some degree, she partook of the 
 courage of her race ; and she loved, much more than she could 
 excuse to herself, the exciting story of the wild struggle, the 
 gallant charge, the audacious adventure, and the wild attack. 
 So earnestly engaged were the two in these narratives, that the 
 signals of Little Peter, at the chamber-door, were thrice re 
 peated, before they gave ear to his desire to communicate with 
 them. When he was admitted, he said : 
 
 "Benny Bowlegs, Mass Willie bin sen me. He da look 
 out. He say trange looking pusson is a-coming ! He pull 
 down de rye fie? fence ; he da come round by de garden. He 
 hab big bone black boss, and he tan [stands] close in de tick, 
 at de bottom ob de garden, as ef he bin da look out for see 
 wha s a doing yer. Benny say you must keep close. He da 
 watch de pusson and will nebber leff em out ob sight." 
 
 " Where s Benny ?" 
 
 " He da follow close on de track ob de trange pusson, cub 
 bering hese f in de tick [thicket] for watch em." 
 
 " Very good. Keep close, Peter, and don t let yourself be 
 seen, unless the stranger comes up to the house. Should he 
 want to see my father, admit him, but don t be out of reach and 
 hearing. The fellow s coming in on the rear is suspicious! 
 Can it be one of these rascals? Hardly! He would hardly 
 venture thus ! What can be the fellow s policy ? If Blodgit 
 has reported me absent, they would certainly seek for me be 
 low. If I am supposed to be here, one of them, alone, would 
 hardly make the venture. You did not see the fellow, yourself, 
 Peter ?" 
 
 "Nebber sh um [see him] maussa. Benny sh urn, and tell 
 
NEW SIGNS TN THE SKY. 129 
 
 me. He da hide in de t ick, bottom ob de garden. Benny hide 
 in de t ick belnV em, for see wha* he guine do. Arter Benny 
 tell me, den he gone for hide." 
 
 " Very well i keep about the house, and see what the fellow 
 wants, should he approach. I will be on the alert, and keep as 
 close as possible. All right ! Go now !" 
 Peter disappeared. 
 
 :< Who can it be ?" said Oarrie, uneasily. 
 "As it is but a single man," answered Willie, "there can bb 
 no cause for uneasiness. Still, if it be- one of these outlaws, 
 they may have some deeper schemes in agitation than I can at 
 present conceive. If I could get a glimpse of the fellow, on his 
 approach, it might give me a clue to his purpose." 
 
 And he rose, and looked at the priming of his pistols. 
 " He is making his way from the rear. I ll tell you what, 
 Carrie, I ll steal through the passage down the private stairs, 
 and conceal myself in the pantry. That will enable me to look 
 out upon the rear, unseen. Do you go first, and see if the coast 
 is clear. It will not do to meet my father now !" 
 
 This was done ; the moment for descending the stairs was 
 propitious Colonel Sinclair still brooded in the breakfast 
 room, with little Lottie, playing with her doll, before his eyea 
 and Willie stole down the private stairway into the pantry, 
 through the sheltering blinds of which he could note all the 
 approaches in the roar of tlte dwelling, yet remain unseen 
 himself. Here Carrie left him, proceeding to the breakfast- 
 room, whence she would have persuaded little Lottie off to her 
 
 lessons; but the old man raised his eyes, and mildly said : 
 
 " Leave her for a while, Carrie. It does me good to see her 
 play, and hear her prattle. An hour hence will serve every 
 purpose." 
 
 Carrie was very anxious to get Lottie up stairs, and out of the 
 way of danger, but her argument failed with the old man, and 
 she did not venture to declare the apprehensions which she 
 entertained. She rejoined Willie, and he pacified her uneasi 
 ness. 
 
 "Do not feel troubled, Carrie. I shall not fail you, you 
 know. If there is any danger, Lottie may be sent out of the 
 way at any moment. This fellow, whoever he is, may bo ap- 
 
130 THE FOR>YER~. 
 
 preaching on some sucli mission as that of Blodgit. At aP 
 events, there is but one of them, and T fancy I shall be quite 
 enough to manage him." 
 
 " But why let him approach at all, Willie 1 Why not show 
 yourself armed all the muskets are here, you know, and 
 father s rifle hangs in the hall and warn him off at the muzzle 
 of your gun V 1 
 
 " You forget, Carrie, that my purpose is concealment for the 
 present. Besides, if I show myself at Joor or window, who 
 knows what rifle-shot* I may draw. The dwelling may be 
 reached from the forest-cover by a good rifle ; and the fellow, 
 who comes alone, is probably protected in his progress by good 
 marksmen. No ! no ! It is best and safest to let the one ras 
 cal come and empty his budget. We may get something out 
 of him which it will be useful to know. My game is to get in 
 telligence. I have been doing this very business, day and 
 night, for Marion, for the last three weeks, and there is much 
 which I would learn of this neighborhood and Orangeburg, 
 which I could not get from a better source than this promises 
 to be. Don t you become fidgety, now. Come, you are a brave 
 girl, and you must exert yourself to keep quiet. Benny Bow- 
 legs knows his business, and will come to my succor should he 
 be needed. See here, my horn is ready to sound for him ; and 
 Little Peter is sufficiently watchful of Benny to play his part 
 manfully. All s safe, believe m; only, as I must hold myself 
 as much from sight as possible, it will not do to let this fellow 
 suspect my presence. We must wait events. Be sure, how 
 ever, that, so soon as it becomes necessary, I shall make my 
 appearance. To lie quiet now is the best way to get these ras 
 cals into my power." 
 
 " But what do you want with them 1 Why not scare them 
 off?" 
 
 "Ah! you are not yet a soldier! You can t scare Mi6*se fel 
 lows off! If I did so now, they would be upon you as soon ;:& 
 I disappear. No I no ! Better take them, and pare off their 
 claws. They are giving us an opportunity to do so ; and on! v 
 because they take for granted that I am now skulking in yon 
 der fr>^t. Shall I balk them ? No ! no ! Carrie ! I hope t< 
 bag every rascal of the gang before nightfall !" 
 
NEW SIGNS IN THE SKY. 131 
 
 This language encouraged the sister ; and she hurried up to 
 her chamber, from the window of which she kept watch upon 
 ibe approacn along the avenue, according to her brother s in- 
 stracticns. 
 
 Willie Sinclair never for a moment left his own place of 
 vatch. But he was not kept long in expectation. The outlaw 
 nade his appearance, emerging from the rear of the garden 
 Sinclair recognised him in a moment. 
 
 The audacious scoundrel!" he muttered. "It is just the 
 character of the wretch ! I see ! He knows how feeble my 
 father is. Blodgit has told him all ; and he supposes me to be 
 below. He comes with open eyes, in broad daylight, and into 
 the trap. Wolf ! It shall be a dead-fall !" 
 
 And, with the utmost coolness, Sinclair disposed his pistols 
 upon the table, cocked and ready ; and drew his sabre so gently 
 as that no sounds should reach his father s senses in the adjoin 
 ing room. The naked weapon he leaned up in the corner, con 
 venient to the grasp, should he need to dart through the door 
 separating the two apartments. This was ajar just wide 
 enough to admit of a hand and could be thrown open, without 
 noise, in a moment. He took off his spurs, and laid them care- 
 fully aside. His moccasined feet gave forth no sound. Open 
 ing the bosom of his hunting-shirt, lie felt for the handle of his 
 coutcau dc chaste, and satisfied himself that it lay easy to his 
 grasp. These things done, he composed himself quietly, to 
 wait the progress of events. He was too old a soldier to 
 endeavor to precipitate them. He resumed his watch at the 
 window-bund, and noted the deliberate progress of the outlaw, 
 as he rode up to a tree, dismounted, flung his bridle over a 
 swinging limb, and marched boldly and heavily up the back 
 stairway into the great passage of the dwelling. 
 
 It would have been quite easy for Sinclair to have shot him 
 down at any moment, on this progress ; but Willie did not de 
 light in deliberate bloodshed. He would have felt a degree of 
 fc hame at such a procedure. Besides, though an outlaw, Dick 
 of Tophet might now design no evil. At all events, there was 
 sufficient time to ascertain his purposes ; and these purposes it 
 was quite important that our major should learn. There was 
 yet another consideration. To act, in any way decisively, in 
 
132 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 the business, without suffering the felon hands of the outlaw to 
 be seen, was to involve himself more deeply with his father. 
 Dick was ostensibly a kind s man, and Colonel Sinclair would 
 require some very certain evidence before he wou .i \oiicve 
 him capable of designing evil to himself or family. The good 
 old man fancied that every professing loyalist entertained th j 
 same reverence for regal authority which filled his own bosom. 
 
 All these thoughts passed through Willie Sinclair s mind as 
 the outlaw approached ; but he smiled to himself as he said : 
 
 "But he will soon grow wiser! Hell-fire Dick, believing 
 himself secure, will not long delay to show his true colors. I 
 have a long score with the scoundrel. It will go hard with inc. 
 but I pay him off to-day !" 
 
uANSOM. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RANSOM. 
 
 NfiVBlt was good old gentleman, in the full enjoyment of the 
 otium cum dignitate, less prepared for further disquiet that 
 incrning, than our sturdy Baron of Sinclair. The previous 
 events of the day had had the effect of subduing his mood to 
 one of a quiet, if not a pleasant melancholy. The excitement 
 occasioned by the supposed danger of his son had not exactly 
 passed away ; but remained in some degree, a cause of thought 
 and meditation, The old man was brooding over past and pres 
 ent, anxious and somewhat weary n6t so much vexed as sad 
 musing upon disappointed expectations, and with those doubts 
 of his own ; and the future of his family, which his -ery confi 
 dence in the ultimate success of the king s arms, was calculated 
 to awak-jn. B jt his general temper was subdued for a season. 
 He was partly exhausted by his previous excitement, ar)d a 
 brief forbearance, on the part of his gout, had left him in a de 
 gree of ease of body, in which his mind could brood without 
 suffering. His features were now mild. His eyes watched the 
 play of little Lottie, and he sometimes answered her little 
 queries, with a childish prattle like her own. Suddenly, the 
 child approached him with a bound, inspiring him with the ut 
 most terrors for his foot. He could not stir a peg, and so sensi 
 tive and nervous had he become on the subject of this delicate 
 member, that he waved her off with both hands as he cried 
 aloud : 
 
 " Keep off, Lottie, if you would not hear papa squall out." 
 1 Would it hurt you so very, very much, papa ?" 
 
 " Don t you think, Lottie, that it must be a very great hurt, 
 indeed that would make papa squall out as you sometimes do ?" 
 
 "As I did t other night, papa, when the bat flew into the 
 
THE FOOTERS. 
 
 window, and almost into my face. But that was only fr nn 
 sqare, papa. It just brushed my shoulder with its wings." 
 
 " Yes, Lottie, and it scares me almost as much when you 
 come bounding about my sore foot like a young kitten." 
 
 " But I wouldn t hurt your foot, papa, for anything Why 
 don t you let me nurse your foot ? I d like to help sister Carrie 
 when she dresses it and. binds it up for you in the morning and 
 fit night. I can dress it I m sure, just as good as sis. Look 
 at my little Sophy now See how I ve dressed her, and she 
 knows how well she looks. Don t you see how big her eyes 
 are, and how proud she is ? And this is all my draDsmjr. I 
 dress her a dozen times a day, and know just how tc. put on 
 everything. And won t you let me dress your poor u:d foot ac 
 well as sis ]" 
 
 " Ah ! you are not yet able for that, Lottie. 3<>me day, 
 perhaps, if papa lives till you have grown a young lady, wj shall 
 then see what sort of nurse you will make." 
 
 " Thank you, papa ! I shall be so glad." And as she drew 
 close to his side, he put His arm about and kissed her. The ol 1 
 soldier was not always stormy." 
 
 "There now, Lottie, go to your playthings, rcy dear; I fee^ 
 nothing but fear and trembling when you are skipping about 
 me. And yet, Lottie, I would not that you should cease to 
 skip only skip away afar off!" 
 
 " I won t skip, papa I won t go near your foot. ^ wouldn t 
 hurt you for anything." 
 
 "Not designedly, Lottie you would not. But children art 
 careless and thoughtless little creatures, and they frequently do 
 mischief without meaning it. You did not mean to let tli 
 parrot out, Lottie ; nor to break the big glass shade ; nor tc 
 upset and break my physic bottle ; nor to tumble out of the 
 piazza; nor to " 
 
 "Oh! papa, don t tell everything. How can you lemembci 
 everything against me so ?" 
 
 " I wish you to remember, Lottie." 
 
 " But I don t wish to remember, papa. I don t like it. It 
 makes me feel so ashamed." 
 
 " And this feeling of shame is a good thing sometimes, Lottie , 
 and it fc very well, so long as little girls and boys can fee* it 
 
RANSOM. 135 
 
 It will be worse for them, if the tinue should ever ccroe, v hen 
 !iey cease to feel it. But, go to your play, my child. .1 i >.*e to 
 ee you play." 
 
 "1 am not playing now, papa ; I m working! Se.c- Vhaf a 
 I pautiful dress I ve just made for little Sophy. I msu : ; t all 
 myself. Sis only cut it out." 
 
 " Very pretty ! How many of your sister s Iresses have you 
 :",it up, Lottie, making frocks for little So|Ly thnt never feels 
 the cold ?" 
 
 " Oh ! we don t cut up any except when they re not fit to he 
 worn any more Sis don t let me. But, papa, do you really 
 iike to see me about you, and hear me prattle, as you call it ?" 
 
 " To hear you prattle, very much ; to see you too ; but not 
 too near my feet, Lottie; that s all remember that!" see 
 ing the child again approaching him. 
 
 "Do you want to hear the song I ve just learned, papa] 
 Sis taught me. It s so sweet and pretty all about 
 
 " The little gray squirrel sat in the green tree, 
 
 And I looked at him and he looked at me. 
 And he said, Little girl, do you like as you look? 
 That saucy gray squirrel upon the green tree." 
 
 A saucy little squirrel, indeed ; but enough of the song now, 
 Lottie. Some other time you shall sing it all for me. No 
 doubt i, is a very pretty song, if Carrie taught you, for she 
 L iows how to sing pretty songs, and to make them too." 
 
 " She made that one, papa ; and she made another that she 
 sings herself, all about 
 
 " A handsome cavalier ;! 
 
 "Ha! ha! so she sings of handsome cavaliers, does she? 
 p.; - 1 TOU would like to sing of a handsome c-uaiier too, would 
 you ?" 
 
 " Yes, if sis would only teach me ; b it sbt> won t teach me 
 that song. But I mean to watch her, and listen, when she 
 isn t thinking, papa, and I ll learn it all by myself." 
 
 " What ! stratagem already ? And do you remember nothing 
 more about that handsome cavalier ?" 
 
 "Not much it is something about a handsome cavalier, 
 and a baldric blue, and \ow He rode at early dawn. 
 
136 THE FO RATERS. 
 
 " Only, I suppose, 4 to brush the morning ile\v ! Well, it 
 won t do to mangle your sister s verses; so, when you have 
 s tolen them from her tongue, then come, Lottie, and hide them 
 away in papa s ear, and we ll enjoy the stolen fruit together." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, papa ! That will be so nice. Won t it make 
 sissi open her eyes when she hears it ?" 
 
 " And her ear; too, if you sing as loudly as you talk, Lottie 
 But look out my child, and see who it is in the back piazza. 1 
 hear a strange voice and footsteps." 
 
 " I don t hear anything, papa." 
 
 " Go, see, little Lottie, and come tell p.apa." 
 
 The child put down her toys and disappeared in the passage 
 Her prattle had not prepared the veteran for the sort of visiter 
 he was now required to entertain. Scarcely a moment had 
 elapsed when the child ran back, crying aloud : 
 
 " Oh, papa, a strange man, and so ugly !" 
 
 "Not so blasted ugly either, little Ninny!" exclaimed Dick 
 of Tophet, who had followed close behind her, and heard her 
 speech distinctly. He entered the room speaking, dashed his 
 cap down upon the table, and threw himself into a chair directly 
 opposite the cushioned feet of the colonel The veteran opened 
 his eyes widely at the apparition. 
 
 " How are you, old buck, this warm weather ?" 
 
 Never was mortal astonishment greater than that of our baron 
 at this impudent intrusion and speech. Little Lottie disap 
 peared in terror, flying up stairs. For a moment the colonel 
 was absolutely speechless, l^lie other resumed : 
 
 " I say, how are you, old buck, this hot weather ?" 
 
 " Who the devil arc you ?" demanded Sinclair, finding his 
 tongue in his increasing mdiguation. 
 
 " The devil himself, K yon choose, come to !ook ader nic y-ec/ 
 pie! How are you, I say. li this brimstone weather?" 
 
 The colonel stretched out liis hand to possess himself of his 
 gold-headed cane, the only weapon near him. His purpose 
 was apparent in his eye. But the ruffian was too quick for him, 
 and too watchful. He had only to thrust out his arm, to send 
 the cane away beyond the old man s reach. It was a heavy 
 weapon of rosewood, and rolled along smoothly over the ma 
 hogany, until it made n. final plunge from the table to the floor 
 
RANSOM. 137 
 
 The fury of the colonel may be conjectured not easily de 
 scribed. Ho made an involuntary effort to rise ; but Dick of 
 Tophet had a formidable ally in that great toe ; and a sudden 
 terrible twinge in the member, at once taught the veteran his 
 utter helplessness. He roared out : 
 
 " Halloo, there ! Benny ! Little Peter !" 
 
 "You waste the wind, old fellow, that would cool your hom 
 iny. The niggers are all off, you remember, looking for your 
 son s body." 
 
 " My son s body 1 My son ! " 
 
 " Yes ! He that was murdered last night by Pete Elodgit 
 and Hell-fire Dick, you know. Ha ! ha ! ha ! And you be 
 lieved that story, old boy 1 Well, if it will be any consolation 
 to you to know, then I ll tell you, that your son s safe for the 
 present. He s in powerful good hands. We ve caught him, the 
 young rebel, and he s in a close hitch, under a good-sized hick 
 ory, not half a mile off. He is still alive, and kicking ; but 
 whether he ll live another hour, all depends on you ! I ve 
 come to see how much ransom you re ready to pay djwn 
 guineas on the hub! How much gould do you val?cy hta 
 neck at ?" 
 
 The father s agonies came back. 
 
 " Do you tell me that my son is a prisoner ?". 
 
 " Fast in a fix tight as a blacksmith s vice !" 
 
 " To whom is he a prisoner V 
 
 " Why, to me and my brother sodgers, to be sure !" 
 
 " And who are you ?" 
 
 " Who am I ? That s a pretty question. I thought the ve y 
 iooks of me was enough to let common people know who I am 
 But you don t count yourself among common people, I remem 
 ber. You re a great harrystocrai, and can ; t see and feel M 
 common people do ! Well, I ll teach you who I am ; and ef 
 you won t 1 arn it by common word of mouth, I ve many other 
 ways of giving you onderstanding before I m done with you. 
 Look at me good, old fellow, and you ,-ioes Joel Andrews 
 that s my nateral name, you see, that T ot from my dad and 
 the parson ; but ef you really wan^s ic know me, as the com 
 mon people knows me, the;> I\ lli .ll-five Dick/ *U y;;i/ 
 sarvice !" 
 
138 THE FORAYKRS. 
 
 The outlaw seemed to entertain a certain pride in liis fear- 
 "ul nom de guerre, and his head was uplifted, and his arm 
 stretched out, with a sort of theatrical dignity, as he ccncluded. 
 
 " And are you that bloody villain ?" 
 
 " Come ! come ! no bloody compliments, you old heathen 
 harrystocrat ! Keep a civil tongue in your head ! You re 
 speaking to one of his majesty s offcers, let me tell you ; and, 
 more than that, as I tell d you before, your rebel son s neck is 
 at the eend of my stirrup-leather. So, be as decent as you km 
 be, ef you have a mind to his salvation." 
 
 "You in his majesty s service?" 
 
 "To be sure why not? Don t you think I kin cut and 
 slush as well as Tarleton ? and ef you ever seed Huck, you ll 
 pny I m jest as good-looking a person." 
 
 " In his majesty s commission ! never !" 
 
 Ay hy, you bloody old rebel ! do you doubt my word ?" 
 
 " Hebe! ! Oh ! scoundrel, if I could get at you !" And the 
 veteran writhed in his chair, from the double pangs of gout and 
 indignation. 
 
 " Twouldn t help you much, old fellow, ef you could. I 
 could lay you out with a single wipe. So you needn t git into 
 a passion, and I don t mean to let you put me in one. I m as 
 cool as blazes. You see I ve got your rebel son in a hitch 
 him and you both, pretty much in the same sort of fix he to 
 a hick<-ry, and you to a harm-chair got you both jest where I 
 wants you; and so I kin afford to let your tongue wag a bit. 
 When you re tired, you kin listen. But don t go too fur and talk 
 roo long ; for I hain t got much time to be wasting upon you, and 
 I ain t the nvjst easy-tempered person in a marching rigiment. 
 T jest wants you to see your true sitivation, and Willie Sin- 
 Jair s sitivation ; and then we ll talk about the tarms. For 
 short then, you re to onderstand, that, ef you wants to get him 
 out of the rope, you ve got one thing to do pay up shell 
 out ontwist empty !" 
 
 And the outlaw accompanied his speech with suitable action, 
 stowing the process o li^h urging from purse and pocket. 
 
 The fierce old colonel, angry to kill," was yet enough of 
 the old soldier -to discover that he was truly " in a hitch," as the 
 ruffian described his own and son s " sitivation." lie was held 
 
RANSOM. 139 
 
 at fearful vantage by his visiter. He had no weapon the 
 
 faithful staff was taken from his hands and he was a prisoner 
 in his chair ! His gouty foot kept him in continual anxiety ; 
 for the action of the outlaw brought him, at times, into fearful 
 propinquity with the diseased member. What was to be done ? 
 Proud as was his stomach, and fierce his courage, his only hope 
 lay in temporizing with the ruffian, until he could procure suc 
 cor. Yet, if it were true that his two faithful negroes were ab 
 sent from the plantation, in a fruitless search after a son v/ho 
 was a prisoner at hand, and threatened with the halter whero 
 was his hope ? The cold sweat broke out in thick drops over 
 the old man s face. He was in that condition, which Benny de 
 scribed as one in which he frequently found him ready to boil 
 over. Pmt, though ready to boil over, he did not dare to suffer 
 that operation now ; and to keep down the steam of his passion, 
 at high pressure, required all his strength of soul and body upon 
 the valve. It was amusing, under the circumstances, to witness 
 his labored efforts to look and speak with becoming moderation, 
 if not mildness. 
 
 "Hem! and so you say, sir that a you are a king s 
 man an officer in his majesty s service?" 
 
 "Ah! your tune changes, does it? You kin be civil of your 
 tongue when it pleases you ! That s always the way with you 
 overbearing harrystocrats. When you ve got the whip-hand 
 of a body, you re all thunder; but when you re flat on your 
 backs, you kin lick the hand of a poor man ay, and wash 
 his feet for him !" 
 
 Oh ! how the proud man writhed in his torture of min i and 
 body ! The other proceeded 
 
 " Hut what s it to you. ef I m king s or liberty man ! I m 
 king myself, hyar, jest now , and I Lev your neck, and your 
 son s neck both, ef I please, in a short halter, under a spreading 
 limb. And who s to say stop, ef I say swing. Kain t 
 you onderstand yit ? That s your sitivation. And now, for 
 your son s ransom. What do you say to that" Fork up 
 sleady !" 
 
 The old man recovered Hs dignity, though he spcke with 
 bitterness. There was a degree of humiliation, to which 
 neither his own, nor his son s danger, could bend his soul? 
 
140 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Verily, what matters it what you are, when I am thus 1 
 am at any man s mercy ! I can neither fight nor fly !" 
 
 " That s the hitch ! Didn t I say that you were in a fix 
 tight as any blacksmith s vice ?" 
 
 " You call yourself a British officer 1 It may be so though 
 it will be very long before I shall persuade myself that his 
 majesty trusts his commission to such a person as yourself!" 
 
 " Take care, old fellow ! Every imperdent speech of yourn, 
 adds so much to the ransom. Mind what you re saying ?" 
 
 The colonel simply waved his hand impatiently, and contin 
 ued : 
 
 " If you are a British officer, and my son is your prisoner, 
 you have no power upon his life. Take him to the nearest 
 post, and lodge him in prison. There ends your duty. You 
 have no right either to hang or ransom " 
 
 " Don t tell me of rights, old Billzebub ! My right is hyar, 
 and hyar!" touching the pistols and knife at his girdle 
 " e.u. l these rights, hyar, old fiddlestick, kin take your cars off, 
 and slit your pipe for you, as easy as talking ! You re my 
 prisoner, too, I ll let you know, you d d old rebel, and I ll hev 
 a ransom out of you for all the family, gal-children and all, 
 jest the same as for your son, before I let a hair of one of em 
 out of my hands !" 
 
 The steam became terribly eager for escape ; the valves 
 could not endure the strain ; they yielded. 
 
 "llebel!" roared the colonel, his loyalty irritated beyond 
 measure. "Rebel! villain!" 
 
 To be sure, and a d d imperdent one at that ! Look you, 
 old Sinkler, I knows you well, and all your kidney. You re 
 cue of them bloody, proud, heathen harrystocrats, that look 
 upon a poor man, without edication, as no better than a sort of 
 two-legged dog, that you kin lay the ash on whenever you 
 see him lying in the doorway. And your son is jest another 
 sich a tyrant heathen ! And you ve had a long swing between 
 you, living on the fat of the land, and riding roughshod over 
 poor men s backs. But thar s a great change, thanks to the 
 king s niarcies ! and the good time c or the poor man s conic at 
 inst ! and, now, we ve got a-top jf the wheel ! We ve got 
 the ciuiince at the good things of thin life; and wo kin pay <>fT 
 
RANSOM. 141 
 
 old scores, wagon-whip and hickory, agin your nice gould- 
 headed cane ! And I ll make you feel both afore I m done 
 with you ! I ll hev you, and all your family, on your marrow 
 bones before me, or the rope shall stretch with the weight of 
 some of you ; and them we don t hang to the swinging limb, we 
 may stretch in some other way ! So Icok you, by the old Satan, 
 and Billzebub, and all other devils, the blackest that ever come 
 out of the infarnal pit, 1 swear that you shall buckle down to 
 me to-day! Pay up let s have your gould and silver, and 
 plate call down them gal-children I want to look at em 
 close; call em, I say, and jest you prepare to give up all I 
 axes, or it s a short cord for you, aj>d no time for grace." 
 
 The boiler burst ! 
 
 The strain upon it could be borne no longer ! With a des 
 perate effort, the veteran, defying pain, strove to rise. All now 
 was iron in his face and soul. The energy and courage of fifty 
 years reanimated him. His eyes, unblinking, were fastened 
 upon those of the insolent ruffian, with the deadly intensity of 
 the rattlesnake. Could looks slay, that one glance would have 
 been fatal to the wretch. The gout was forgotte-n ! He rose 
 to his feet, and appeared about to throw himself upon the out 
 law, when his limbs failed ; and, though his agony forced not 
 a groan from his bosom, he caught upon the leaf of the table, 
 and sank back into his chair. 
 
 For a moment speechless from pain, he hushed every other 
 acknowledgment of his sufferings, and recovering himself a; 
 rapidly as possible, with eyes as stern, and voice as firm, as i. r 
 he /ere superior to any torture, he exclaimed 
 
 " Dog ! wretch ! reptile ! I spit upon and defy you !" 
 
 And he seconded the speech with the appropriate action. It 
 ^as all of which he was capable. Of course, he looked for the 
 death-stroke in another moment. But his brave soul was un 
 blenching, and his eye sternly braved that of the executioner, 
 with all the loathing scorn which belonged to the indignity to 
 which he had subjected him. 
 
 With mixed how 1 and scream, like that of some wild beast 
 goaded with spear and fire, the ruffian started to his feet, drew 
 his knife, and was about to spring upon his victim ! But, even 
 as he leaped he fell ! 
 
THE FOEAYEItS. 
 
 There was a slight rush from without a rustle rather a 
 movement so light and rapid as to seem a flash then a blow 
 was heard; dull and heavy and a fall! The outlaw reeled 
 incontinently backward, sunk hopelessly against the table, bore it 
 down with him in a general crash and lay prostrate the blood 
 gushing from mouth and ears stunned and silent upon the floor ! 
 
tHE FAMILY SKJDUP AT TUE IJAIIONY. 113 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE FAMILY GROUP AT THE BARONY. 
 
 THE whole affair was over in a moment, It had passed so 
 rapidly that the colonel had not recovered himself quite not 
 enough for comment when he beheld the stranger, to whose 
 timely blow he owed his life, stoop down to the stunned and 
 bleeding ruffian, and proceed to strip him of knife and pistols. 
 
 " Who is it," he cried, " to Avhom I owe this help ? Ha ! 
 ha ! my good fellow, whoever you are, you have taken lessons 
 in a first-rate British school ! That buffet was delivered with 
 proper science ; well aimed to raks the ear upward ! The arm 
 duly shortened for delivery, the whole body working upon a 
 pivot; and the whole weight thrown into right arm and shoul 
 der ! I have tried I have taught that blow, a thousand 
 times myself! Where did you learn it, my brave fellow? 
 Who are you?" 
 
 " What ! don t you know me, father ?" 
 
 " Ha ! Willie ! Willie, my son ! Is it you ? God be praifed 
 you are safe!" 
 
 Then, with entirely changed voice : 
 
 "But how the devil should I know you in that villanous 
 dress ? Is that a costume fit for a gentleman, or a gentleman s 
 son ? Is that the uniform which your rebel authorities provide ? 
 At least, they have some idea of propriety. The dress suits 
 the rabble." 
 
 " I ll answer you directly, sir," said Willie Sinclair, " as 
 soon as this rogue is properly roped." 
 
 By this time both Carrie and Lottie had rushed down stairs. 
 They stood with their arms about the neck of the veteran. Bu 4 
 Willie Sinclair, speaking in the voice of authority, sent them 
 off. 
 
14* iHE FORAYEK3, 
 
 " Back, Carrie j .Ake Lottie with you ! Back to your perch 
 and keep a sharp oak out ! We may have the rest of the out 
 laws upon us before we know where we are. Back ! Lose not 
 a moment ; I will sound for Benny and Peter ! 
 
 Thus speaking, Willie Sinclair winded his horn merrily, 
 while stooping over the prostrate ruffian whom he had entirely 
 disarmed. He did not forego his vigilance a moment. The 
 fellow was still insensible. At least, he made no motion, lying 
 upon his side, with the blood still trickling from his ear. In 
 truth, it was a formidable blow scarcely to be conceived by 
 those who are ignorant of the degree of power, which one versed 
 in " the science" can throw into a muscular right arm. But the 
 rogue might be " playing possum " nevertheless. Such fellows 
 are tough, and capable of enduring many such buffets. 
 
 "Have you killed him ?" asked the old man. 
 
 "No ! His fate saves him from that ! The gallows is not to 
 be defrauded of its prey ! He is only stunned." 
 
 "A good blow, Willie well delivered ! I taught you tLe 
 stroke myself. I remember all our practice." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! and I thank you for the lesson, sir. It has 
 served a good purpose !" 
 
 " Ay, sir ; and it is such as you, thus daily receiving proofs 
 of their admirable excellence, who would be for abandoning 
 all our best British institutions !" 
 
 The young man laughed merrily at the solemn imputation, 
 as he answered : 
 
 " It seems not, sir. You see that I keep some of them in full 
 practice." 
 
 At this moment Benny and Little Peter both appeared 
 
 " A plough-line, Benny !" cried the major. 
 
 "You kill de blackguard, Mass Willie?" 
 
 " No ! He is recovering ! A plough -line !" 
 
 Benny was already prepared, and, with Peter s assistance, the 
 outlaw was roped tightly, hands and feet, and turned upon his 
 back, quiet as a turtle in like predicament. 
 
 "The bloody scoundrel!" quoth the old man. " He had 
 me in a hitch, as he phrased it ! But his present one seems 
 rather of the tightest fashion !" 
 
 " He in guiue get out ob dis hitch, mass kurnel, wha 1 pu* 
 
THE FAMILY GROUP AT THE BARONY. 146 
 
 em in, by he own teet and fingers!" said Benny, with great 
 complacency, putting his foot irreverently into the sides of the 
 outlaw. 
 
 Dick of Tophet now opened his eyes, which were very glassy, 
 and one of them bloodshot. They did not exhibit much intel 
 ligence, but took in the surrounding aspects slowly, and with a 
 stupid sort of stare. Gradually, he seemed to be recovering his 
 senses. He endeavored to draw up his legs and stretch out his 
 arms ; and thus acquired a full knowledge of his bonds. His 
 constraints brought back his consciousness. He felt his " siti- 
 vation " evidently ; but he was too old a ruffian of a nature 
 quite too hard to show any fear or feeling. He stared stead- 
 liy into the faces about him, with a sort of scowling uncon 
 cern. 
 
 " Take him off to the lower story, boys," said Willie, " and 
 give him a taste of rum or brandy. Soak a cloth with the 
 liquor, and put a bandage about his head. Then be off, on your 
 watch again !" 
 
 The negroes swung the outlaw up, by arms and feet, and he 
 was carried down into the brick basement of the dwelling. His 
 head was bandaged, and he eagerly swallowed the liquor that 
 was poured down his throat. Willie Sinclair, having seen him 
 safely shut up, returned to the dining-room. Carrie and Lottie 
 were also now permitted to come down to the reunion of the 
 family, as soon as the two negroes had resumed their places of 
 watch. Was that reunion now to be a grateful one ? We 
 shall see. 
 
 Once more the baron sate with all his children around him. 
 He had resumed his composure. His cushions were restored ; 
 his game leg was again put at ease and the two girls safe 
 beside him. Willie Sinclair took a seat as composedly as 
 the outlaw had done, occupying nearly the same situation, di 
 rectly in front of his father; and the two surveyed each other 
 for a while, without speaking. At length the old man broke 
 silence : 
 
 "So, sir you think you have done great things by your per 
 formances to-day !" 
 
 " Not great, sir. If I think about the matter at all, with any 
 gratification, it is only because I have been able to be of some 
 
146 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 little service, sir, where I owe much duty, and feel the most im 
 bounded Jove." 
 
 " Little service, sir ! You saved my life 1" 
 " Very likely, sir. I think so !" 
 
 " You came in the nick of time, Willie Sinclair : in the very 
 nick of time ; but why were you absent at any time 1 That 
 is the question, sir V 
 
 " It is one, sir, that we need not reargue." 
 "Well, sir, as you please," said the other stiffly. "To 
 shrink from arguing one s own cause is, perhaps, the best evi 
 dence of its worthlessness ! and I am willing to admit, sir, 
 that you delivered an admirable buffet ; not only well-timed, 
 but well delivered ! But who taught you that buffet, sir ? Who 
 was it that had you carefully lessoned by the best boxer m old 
 England? Shame on you, sir ; shame on you to fly in the 
 face of your teacher, and strike at the very bosom from which 
 you drew your nurture !" 
 
 " My dear father lot us talk of something more pleasant to 
 both parties. It is not often that we meet, and you know that we 
 shall never agree upon this subject. Let us think of more grate 
 ful topics. And, to begin, pray, let me ask have you none of 
 that old Madeira left, sir Hopson s brand that famous pale 
 old Madeira 1 I confess my mouth waters for a smack of that 
 gentle creature. She was always a favorite of mine, and after 
 the rough work of the last half hour, I feel as if she would be 
 particularly grateful to my palate !" 
 
 " What ! do the tastes of a gentleman still survive in the 
 bosom of a rapscallion rebel I They should be encouraged. 
 Get us a bottle, Carrie, my dear, out of the garret. You know 
 the brand. Don t shake. Decant it carefully. The fellow 
 deserves a drink the best reward, perhaps, of a prize-fighter." 
 And the veteran laughed with a merry twinkle in his great 
 blue eye arched as it was with bushy brows and a pleasant 
 twist of his still rosy lips. Who could fancy beneath that 
 countenance a hard and relentless nature 1 Who could ^ fail to 
 see, in that genial smile, that his son was the apple of his eye ? 
 Nature was declaring herself at this moment, at every hazard. 
 The old man was by no means so tough as at forty -five. The 
 xcitements of the day his gout all had unsettled him; and 
 
THE FAMILY GROUP AT THE BARONY. 141 
 
 his mind, in its workings a combative and pugnacious mind - 
 was in temporary suspension. The blood, the heart, wore con: 
 aratively at liberty to argue as they phased, and they took 
 Advantage of the opportunity. 
 
 But not for long ! Willie Sinclair had outraged all the old 
 man s notions of propriety his faith, his loyalty the pre 
 scriptive pride of numerous generations -his own individual 
 sentiments and feelings, which a social aristocracy had long 
 nourished into absolute laws. Besides, our veteran was of pure 
 Saxon sanguine temperament. He was off in a flash ! never 
 long at one point, constantly veering with every impulse, 
 and no more to be fixed than the well-oiled vane upon the 
 house-top. Don t suppose, by this, that we mean to describe 
 him as capricious of principle only of emotion. Never was 
 man more honorable, or more steadfast to the polar star of truth 
 aiui ji.s;i -e, than the elder Willie Sinclair. We have seen, that, 
 with laatli staring him in the face, without help or remedy, he 
 ; et scorned to make a single concession, for safety, to the brutal 
 and exac;ing insolence of the outlaw whose knife threatened 
 his throat. Death, by any process, was preferable to this! 
 Though our colonel was obedient to his impulses, yet these im 
 pulses were all tuned and regulated by his habitual recognition 
 of moral and social law. All his instincts and there are moral 
 as well as animal instincts pity that we study them so little, 
 or so seldom allow for them were those of justice,, faith, loy 
 alty ! lie was a good sample of the best English squirearchy, 
 when the squirearchy of England was legitimate in the days 
 of Falkland and Hampden frank, hearty, honest stubborn, 
 it may be, for stubbornness is somewhat necessary to virtue 
 itself but no simulacrum no mere sham, the miserable mock 
 ery, not the semblance, of what was an honored and a living 
 Hi ing. 
 
 The wine was brought, bright, clear, amber-like, and smiling 
 through the crystal glass like e -ening sunshine in the eyes of 
 beauty. 
 
 " Shall I fill for you, sir ?" quoth the major, taking up the 
 decanter. 
 
 " It is scarce possible to deny myself," answered the veteran, 
 yot." with a grunt "I shall pay the penalty if I drink 
 
148 THE FORAYER8. 
 
 This confounded, gout. It destroys all the finer tastes of th* 
 gentleman." 
 
 " His privileges rather," answered the son. " But one glass 
 vill hardly trouble you, and I doubt if this bright liquor is a bit 
 Qiore unfriendly to t k ie gout than your tea and coffee." 
 
 " What do you know about the matter, sir? but fill fill ! 
 I will venture upon a single glass only, and shall hope for im 
 munity in sinning, as, from necessity, I forbear the full extent 
 of my desires. There was a time, Willie, when I could no more 
 have paused, the taste once taken, till the bottle was empty, 
 than I could have flown. Sir the king s health W 7 ill you 
 drink that?" 
 
 " Ay, sir, why not ! You do not object to my additional wish 
 that he may soon attain his proper senses and temper, as well 
 as his health." 
 
 " D n your amendment, sir, and drink as you please ! 
 There will never be an increase of sense in your case, I fear " 
 
 " Well, sir, that should trouble neither of us, so long as what 
 I have suffices for the preservation of my tastes. You see, I 
 have by no means lost my relish for this goodly spirit," and he 
 refilled his glass as he spoke. 
 
 " What do they give you to drink in camp ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I shall puzzle you ! W r e have a beverage in camp, 
 sir that is when we have any, that is probably very much 
 (ike the nectar of the ancients born of the sun and of the dew; 
 of night and noonday in equal proportions; which at once 
 fires and subdues ; wings you to the stars, yet puts you com 
 fortably to sleep on a bed of earth that does not need to be 
 spread with moss." 
 
 "You are not speaking of Jamaica?" 
 
 " No, sir : I rather prefer the Jamaica when I can get it, to 
 this potent liquor. The Jamaica is not without other quali 
 fies which I somewhat affect. But our opportunities of judging 
 of the one are too infrequent to prevent us from a very warm 
 appreciation of the other " 
 
 "It is Hollands !" 
 
 " No ! It s birthplace is much more picturesque. There is 
 a beautiful river, sir, of our sister state, Virginia " 
 
 . Colony, sir " 
 
THE FAMILY GROUP AT THE BARONY. 
 
 " A* you please state or colony the political position of 
 the region has no sort of effect upon the qualities of this goodlj 
 beverage, which derives its popular name from a beautiful river 
 of Virginia, which rises among the Laurel mountains famous 
 birthplace runs north for three hundred miles, and loses 
 itself at last in the Ohio, which it infuses with new virtues. 
 Its waters are not waters, but virtues, or they fable greatly 
 who tell us that this beverage either oozes from its banks, 
 or is borne onward undiluted by its currents. It is scooped 
 up- 
 
 " What nonsense ! What is the name of this river ?" 
 
 With profound gravity the other replied to the question : 
 
 " Monongahela !" 
 
 " Pshaw ! and you have been prating all the time of whiskey ! 
 the most infernal of all drinks that burn up human vitals! 
 No wonder you smack your lips with new life at the taste of 
 Madeira." 
 
 " You are right, sir. Monongahela, though quite popular in 
 camp, is by no means a favorite of mine. In spite of its divine 
 origin and pretty name, I prefer Madeira. Sir, I do myself the 
 honor to drink the health of my father in a bumper." 
 
 And the action seconded the word. 
 
 " Faith, Willie, at this rate, you will need no help of mine in 
 finishing the bottle. But you are welcome. It will help to 
 show you what you forfeit by your insane politics. By the 
 way, talking of your camp have you any camp left any 
 where? any foothold, swamp or highland, in which you keep 
 your ground ? If I err not. Lord Kawdon, at last advices, had 
 driven your Yankee general wholly out of sight. And these 
 garments in which you now appear ! Tell me, my son, are you 
 not a fugitive?" 
 
 This was said with great concern. Meanwhile, our major of 
 dragoons had taken little Lottie into his arms, and she was 
 prrchod upon his knee, with her head nestling lovingly on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " A fugitive !" 
 
 "Ay, sir, a fugitive flying from danger pursued by su 
 perior forces your own forces utterly dispersed a rebel in 
 danger }f the rope a fugitive from justice f" 
 
1 50 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 The major put down the child, and rubbed his hands merrily 
 
 "Well, sir, you will give me shelter 1 ?" 
 
 " I know not that I do not make myself criminal in doing so ; 
 but I trust, sir, that I am not without influence in his majesty s 
 army my known loyalty my past services will enable 
 me, I trust, to secure your safety your pardon. But only on 
 condition, Willie, that you are truly repentant that you re 
 nounce your rascally associates " 
 
 " It does not need, my dear father. I trust that I shall never 
 seek to purchase mere safety by the sacrifice of honor; trust 
 still more earnestly that my father will never des Tiul to the 
 necessity of proposing or encouraging such sacrifice." 
 
 The father absolutely groaned, whether from gout or reflec 
 tion it is not needful that we inquire. The major of dragoons 
 continued : 
 
 " No, sir ; I am in no sort of danger. The only representa 
 tives of his Britannic majesty in these precincts at present arc 
 of a class that is much more apt to endanger you than me. You 
 have had a taste of the quality to-day." 
 
 " What, sir, you do not pretend to say that this atrocious out 
 law serves under the standard of my sovereign ?" 
 
 " You heard his own boast to that effect." 
 
 "But he lied, sir lied in his throat. He is a scoundrel, an 
 outlaw, a miserable marauder and plunderer." 
 
 " Very true ; but it is not the less true that he has been, and 
 is still, I believe, in the service of the British general. He is 
 absolutely a sort of officer, and was, to iny knowledge, at one 
 time, a sergeant of that efficient corps of rangers to which his 
 lordship of Rawdon and Moira gave the title of Congaree fora 
 gers." 
 
 "Lord Rawdon employ such rascals never!" 
 
 "Nay, his lordship is not in a situation to scruple at any 
 qualities in his levies. He is only too well pleased to fill the 
 gaps in his regiments with any sort of cattle. His lordship 
 thinks with Falstaff, that, if good for nothing else, they are at 
 least excellent food for powder." 
 
 "Do you mean to say, sir, that there is a lack of troops in the 
 British army?" 
 
 " A most alarming one " 
 
THE FAMILY GROUP AT TILE BARONY. 151 
 
 " Since when ? He has a force, I am sure, quite adequate tr 
 all his purposes." 
 
 "Yes if they be retreat, flight, and the loss of the country 
 adequate to nothing else, sir." 
 
 " What ! and when he has just driven your Yankee black 
 smith general out of sight out of the colony !" 
 
 " You get intelligence slowly here, my dear father, or it is 
 manufactured at the wrong mint. Are you not aware that Lord 
 Rawdon has abandoned Ninety-Six, almost as soon as he re 
 lieved it?" 
 
 " The devil he has ! I don t I won t believe a word of it." 
 
 " Very well ! You will see in sufficient season for yourself. 
 Why, sir, he is even now in full retreat ; and now, Colonel 
 Cruger is only lingering at Ninety-Six to collect the loyalists 
 and all their families, and bring them off from a region which 
 has grown quite too hot to hold them. We are soon about to 
 witness the melancholy spectacle of the exodus from their homes 
 of an entire colony, men, women, and children, numbering 
 thousands, who, committed to the fortunes of the British army, 
 are destined to share and anticipate their fate." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! all this is simply ridiculous." 
 
 "Why, sir, have you not seen the fall, one by one, of every 
 British post in the interior. Rawdon abandons and burnn 
 Camden Forts Watson, Motte the posts at Granby, Augusta, 
 nnd Silver Bluff, all succumb; by a prodigious effort, em 
 ploying almost all his force, leaving Charleston to a guard 
 rather than a garrison, he relieves Ninety-Six, and that he is 
 obliged to abandon also. In a few days he will reach the 
 Congarees in full retreat ; and you may look to see him making 
 a post of rest, before long, of Orangeburg, or possibly, the Sin 
 dair Barony, on his flight to the seaboard." 
 
 " Spite of all disaster, sir, Lord Rawdon shall be welcome to 
 Sinclair Barony, and if need be, to avert the event which you 
 threaten, its master and all his slaves shall arm for the crown. 
 It is not in a moment of peril that I will abandon that standard 
 ander which I have grown to manhood." 
 
 " I should be the last person in the world, my father, to wish 
 to see you do so. God forbid that in any exigency a man 
 should abandon his principles. You see things with other eyes 
 
152 THE FO RATERS. 
 
 tlian mine, and y.m see them honestly, though, as I think, 
 through a false medium. But you are to adhere to what you 
 recognise as true. You, sir, must also feel that I am required 
 Vy the laws of conscience to obey a similar necessity. It is a 
 melancholy necessity, my dear father, which divides us in this 
 war, but it is not the less a necessity with both one which 
 duly results from the very exercise of the best virtues. Be 
 lieve me, sir, you can not have endured more mortification than 
 I have pain, in the choice which renders me heedless of your 
 sympathies and desires." 
 
 "Ah! Willie, Willie!" murmured the veteran tenderly 
 " it is a cruel, cruel dispensation. Why, my son, could you not 
 feel with me, think with me, follow the course which I have 
 taken, sustain the banner which I have borne." 
 
 " It could not be, sir ! What was right with you, and in your 
 day, would be wrong in mine." 
 
 " How is that possible, sir ? What is right yesterday, is 
 right to-morrow right for a thousand years right for eter 
 nity." 
 
 " Yes, sir, in simple morals that would be quite true, but not 
 in respect to the policy of nations. With these, right changes 
 aspect according to political necessities, and the altered condi 
 tions of states. There is one truth, sir, which always eludes the 
 class to which you belong " 
 
 " What is that, sir ?" 
 
 " That the American colonies have passed through their 
 minority. A people who are able to maintain themselves 
 against foreign pressure, have survived the necessity of foreign 
 rule. The mental and social developments which enable them 
 to defend themselves by arms, are in proof of resources which 
 revolt at foreign dominion. If the American mind is equal to 
 its own necessities, it is adequate to its own rule. If we no 
 longer need English armies for our protection, we no longer 
 need English mind for our government." 
 
 " But this, sir, is the argument of ingratitude. You forget the 
 past, sir the immense debt, arms, men, money, all means and 
 appliances, for strength and safety, which we owe to the mother- 
 country." 
 
 " No, sir, it is Britain that forgets. We have forgotten notn- 
 
, THE FAMILY GBOUP AT THE BARONY. 163 
 
 iiig. Britain had a right to expect our gratitude, but not the 
 sacrifice of our liberties. That you should lend me money 
 nay, give it protect me in weakness help and cherish me in 
 sickness gives you no right to enslave me for ever for these 
 lervices." 
 
 " Don t talk of slavery, sir, taxation is not slavery." 
 
 " The denial of our right, sir, is the worst slavery, and this 
 was the error and offence of Britain. It proved her to be neither 
 just nor wise. But do not let us glide into the renewal of old 
 discussions. They can not serve us now. They can not change 
 your habit, nor unsettle my principles. Let us talk of other 
 things of home, sir, of yourself, of the girls of any subject 
 but this which divides us." 
 
 The veteran sighed deeply. 
 
 " Willie Sinclair, my son, I sometimes feel that I could curse 
 you, so bitterly do I suffer from the choice you have made 
 against my sovereign." 
 
 "Do not that, my dear father do not that!" answered the 
 major tenderly, as he took the old man s hand, and carried it to 
 his lips. The eyes of both were filled with tears. Carrie Sin 
 clair stole round and passed her arm about the veteran s neck ; 
 little Lottie encircled that of her brother, intuitively, in the 
 same manner. The father audibly sobbed as he replied : 
 
 " But that I know you to be honest, Willie, I could have cursed 
 you, and driven you for ever from my sight. But you have 
 always been truthful, and spoken the truth ; and I honor you, 
 sir honor you, though your course has sometimes maddened 
 me; and I rejoice in your valor and good name, Willie 
 Sinclair, as a gentleman and a soldier, though your sword is 
 raised for the defeat and dishonor of my sovereign." 
 
 After this there was silence for a space. When the dialogue 
 was resumed, the subject was changed. For the present there 
 were no more reproaches. 
 
 7* 
 
THE FORAYE3S. 
 
 JHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DH K OF TOPHET S LATER MOVEMENT. 
 
 ! B / tlic way, sir," said the major to his father, as the party 
 sat at lunch, " you have been honored with a visit from Lord 
 Rawdon and his suite," 
 
 " Yes, sir, I was so honored. His lordship took the Barony 
 in his route upward, and passed the night with us, as did sever 
 al of his suite. His army was cantoned in the old indigo-field." 
 
 " I was aware of it. Once or twice during the night, I was 
 within a short half-mile of the house, and I made the circuit of 
 his whole encampment." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, you were bold. The sight was hardly satisfac 
 tory. You saw some splendid troops, sir, fresh from Ireland ; 
 two thousand brave fellows at least, and some of the finest look 
 ing chaps I ever saw. And, by tl.e way, sir, your sister Carrie 
 there made a conquest of one of the young Irishmen." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! who ?" and the major looked archly at his sis 
 ter s face. " But why should I ask. I know already." 
 
 " How s that, sir ?" and both the veteran and Carrie looked 
 curious. 
 
 " We are well supplied with birds of the wood and air thai 
 bring us tidings in a moment from all quarters. The attentions 
 of my Lord Edward Fitzgerald, to her sly ladyship, did not fail 
 to be fully reported in camp." 
 
 " Why, Willie ! he paid me no attention." 
 
 " Fie, Carrie, my child, you know he did. Ask Lottie, 
 Willie ; she can tell you all. The child was quite curious, I 
 assure you ; and was particularly mortified at being put to bed 
 fin hour or two before the usual time " 
 
 "Nay, father, not a 
 
DICK OF TOPHET S LATER MOVEMENT. 155 
 
 " She certainly felt it a great hardship to be packed off and 
 put away when she was." 
 
 Yes, indeed, papa. And so many handsome officers." 
 
 " Tell Willie about the young lord, Lottie." 
 
 Carrie looked a little uneasy, and lifted her finger at the 
 child, who smiled with a pretty little malice at her elder sister, 
 and prattled out a mischievous reply. 
 
 " Oh ! Lord Edward did talk a great deal with you, Carrie ; 
 you know he did ; and he did watch you with all his eyes ; and 
 he sat with you a long time upon the sofa ; and when papa was 
 talking with the other lord, he got you to play for him upon 
 the harpsichord ; and Carrie sang for him, brother Willie, and 
 he did seem so pleased to hear her sing ; and it was a song 
 about Ireland too ; about the green isle of the ocean, you 
 know." 
 
 "A pretty case of mickin-?nahco, and clearly all true, Carrie." 
 
 Carrie was no simple country-girl. She had seen a good 
 deal of society, and exhibited no rustic emotions. Still, there 
 was a heightened color upon her cheeks, as she laughingly an 
 swered 
 
 " Every syllable, Willie ; and that she remembers so well, 
 and reports so truly, is only in proof that she was put to bed 
 not a moment too soon. I shall have to indulge in more cau 
 tion hereafter." 
 
 " You see, Willie, she is obliged to confess everything !" said 
 the old man. 
 
 " Is it a full confession ? I fancy from the color on her 
 cheeks that something has been kept back. At all events, 
 what is revealed is enough to make a lover jealous, and I 
 must look up one of my friends and put him on the trail, 
 Carrie." 
 
 The girl looked at her brother with an anxious warning in 
 her eye, and continued to lift a finger to him, as she had done 
 to Lottie. It was evidently a dangerous progress that the dia 
 logue was taking toward a tabooed precinct, and the veteran 
 turned^ suspiciously, and with a very decided change in his 
 Voice, said : 
 
 " What is that, sir? of whom are you speaking?" 
 Xay, I am speaking of no one especially; but there is 
 
156 THE FORAYEHS. 
 
 enough in this story of Lord Edward to make another lover 
 jealous." 
 
 " But there is no other, sh none !" 
 
 " I am then really to understand, sir, that Lord Edward Fitz 
 gerald is Carrie s lover?" answered the brother evasively. 
 
 "I said not that, sir no, sir, I do not mean that. The 
 young lord was certainly very attentive, and I was sorry tt 
 think that Carrie was not so well pleased with his attentions ar 
 she might have been. She played and sang for him, it is true 
 and behaved as graciously as any lady could do in her own 
 house, sir." 
 
 What more would you have, sir, unless you v eally desired 
 her union with this young Irishman ?" 
 
 " And I should not be displeased, sir, if such a thing could 
 take place," retorted the veteran, quickly and rather sharply, 
 as if somewhat dissatisfied with the tone of voice in which the 
 major had spoken. He continued : 
 
 " Lord Edward Fitzgerald, sir, is a young nobleman of the 
 most noble character, and the most illustrious connections. My 
 Lord Rawdon, who is charmed with his courage and conduct, 
 gave me all his history. There is no stock in the Irish peerage 
 superior. The Geraldines have always been famous for their 
 blood. Lord Edward s father was the duke of Leinster ; his 
 mother the daughter of Charles, duke of Richmond; he him 
 self, sir, is worthy of his race and immediate parents." 
 
 " You seem to have pursued the subject of Irish genealogy of 
 late, sir, with more sympathy and respect than formerly. There 
 was a time when Irish nobility, and the whole Irish race, found 
 but little sympathy in your thoughts." 
 
 The veteran did not seem to relish the reminiscence. 
 
 "And for a good reason, sir they were a rebellious people 
 always." 
 
 " The ancestors of this young man especially so." 
 
 "The fault was in his ancestors not in him, sir. He is 
 making the proper atonement. But I can not expect that his 
 present loyalty will find favor in your eyes, as it does in mine !" 
 
 "No, indeed, sir! How should it?" exclaimed the major of 
 dragoons, rising from his chair and striding heavily across the 
 apartment " How should it, when it betrays all the examples 
 
DICK OP TOPHET S LATER MOVEMENT. 15? 
 
 of his past, and all the securities of his country s future. How 
 should he be here, sir, with liis own people in bonds at Lome, 
 fighting the battles of their oppressor ! What a spectacle is it 
 to see the nobles of a race, who perpetually complain of their 
 own tyrants, seeking with naked swords to subject a foreign 
 people to the sway of the same tyrannies. One who calls him 
 self an Irish patriot fighting against the liberties of America. 
 
 "Liberties! Fiddlesticks!" 
 
 The young man did not notice the interruption as he con 
 tinued : 
 
 " It is thus that Ireland is made to drink the bitter cup of her 
 own bondage bitterness to the lips, death to the life, dishonor 
 to the soul. Her people serve as willing mercenaries of the 
 very sovereign whom they hate, and every blow which they 
 strike in his behalf, rivets more firmly the chain about their 
 own wrists." 
 
 " Pshaw ! This is all boy-declamation, Willie. Ireland 
 wears no chains which it is not necessary and proper that she 
 should wear." 
 
 The other quickly replied : 
 
 " On that point, sir, we are agreed. And so long as her peo 
 ple are eager to fight the battles of their own tyrants, may the 
 chains grow and eat into the flesh, and sink into the soul, and 
 root out from existence every atom of life in the nature which 
 so foolishly and foully degrades itself." 
 
 "Take care, sir take care, Willie Sinclair ! Do not make 
 me angry, sir I am not easily made angry, sir I am quite 
 quiet, quite gentle, my son but d n it, sir, beware how ycu 
 provoke me !" 
 
 " I have no wish to provoke or anger you, sir, and we will 
 dismiss the subject, if you please. I have no fear that Carrie 
 Sinclair will feel more sympathy for this young Irish lord than 
 I do. I trust that she will find a proper mate among her own 
 people." 
 
 " Well, sir, but if she should if, in obedience to my wishes, 
 sir" 
 
 " I have no fear, sir, that your wishes, in such an affair as this, 
 will ever put on the aspect of a law, sir." 
 
 * And why not, sir- -why nott 
 
158 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Because, sir, I Rn w that you can never become a tyrant te 
 your own children." 
 
 " I know not that, sir, when they become disobedient, rebel- 
 lious, Willie Sinclair. Arid this reminds me to ask, sir, since 
 when did you become as intimate of a certain Captain Travis, 
 ofEdisto?" 
 
 "Now comes my turn!" was the unuttered thought of the 
 major of dragoons, looking with a faint smile to the anxious 
 face of Carrie. 
 
 " I am no intimate of Captain Travis, sir." 
 
 "Ah ! I am very glad to hear it, sir. He is not the person, 
 sir, whom I should wish to see intimate with a son of mine. 
 lie is a dirty fellow, sir not a gentleman a corrupt, selfish, 
 mercenary rascal. I knew him well in the Cherokee war. He 
 :s not the person for a gentleman s intercourse. But you have 
 intercourse with him, sir pray what is the nature of that in 
 tercourse ?" 
 
 " It belongs wholly to my official duties. It is, accordingly, 
 sir, of a nature not to be communicated." 
 
 " How, Willie Sinclair how can that be ? This man is in 
 the service, I am sorry to say it, of his Britannic majesty. He 
 : s in the commissariat, I believe. I sold him a hundred head 
 of cattle on British account." 
 
 " You arc right, sir ; he is in the commissariat." 
 Of what nature, then, is your intercourse with him if it be 
 official. Either he is a traitor to his king, sir " 
 
 " Do you not see, my dear father, from your own conclusions, 
 that the intercourse with him is such as it would not be proper 
 for mo to tell, or you to hear ?" 
 
 The old man paused a moment, then resumed : - 
 
 " And, on your honor, sir, you have none but an official inter- 
 course with him." 
 
 " None, sir." 
 
 " How, then, is it that this person has the audacity to come 
 *o me, and impudently to suggest a union between his family 
 and mine ?" 
 
 He must answer this question for himself. I can only say 
 that his proposition was wholly unauthorized by me." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say thus much, Willie very glad. 
 
DICK OF TOPHET S LATER MOVEMENT. 
 
 But ha\e you told me all, sir? Is there no secret in reserve? 
 I tell you, Willie Sinclair, that this man Travis did more than 
 hint to me that you had a passion for his daughter." 
 
 " He told you but the truth*, sir though unauthorized to do 
 so." 
 
 " And why unauthorized ? Who has a better right than a 
 father to be made aware of the disposition of a son ?" 
 
 " And in proper season, sir, all the secrets of Willie Sinclair 
 shall be put into his father s keeping. Let this suffice for the 
 present. If my confidences are in anything withheld from you, 
 sir, or any of my family, it is only where they affect others. 
 When they relate to myself only, you shall know them all. 
 When I am permitted to speak for others, you shall hear." 
 
 " This will not answer, sir. Who is this young woman, sir 
 the daughter of this miserable commissary ? " 
 
 " Let me pray you, my dear father, to say nothing of her, 
 and, for the present, if you please, no more of him. In due 
 time, you shall know all that 1 can tell. Enough now that, in 
 a season while the storm rages without, we are a family of IOVG 
 within. Will you not spare to our meeting, destined to be exit 
 short in a few hours" and the major took out his watch, and 
 mused over the face of it for a moment "let us, my dear 
 father, enjoy the two or three hours that are left to our reunion, 
 without another word calculated to impair its serenity." 
 
 The old man put his hand to his brow. There was some sul- 
 lenness upon his face as he replied : 
 
 " Be it so, Willie Sinclair. The rights of my sovereign do 
 not forbid that I should tolerate the presence for a few hours of 
 n-y son and I trust that his own. training has been such as 
 will keep him from a degrading alliance. One thing let me say 
 and bear it in mind, if you please, never, while my head is hot, 
 will I tolerate the presence of that man. Travis, in my house- 
 ad one who has a right to be there. Never ! never/ 
 
 And the fist of the veteran thundered upon the table, as if to 
 register the oath. The young man s face saddened for a mo 
 ment, but he shook away the cloud, and seizing his father s 
 band, he cried laughingly : 
 
 " F doubt, my dear father, that the reception which you gave 
 Lim when he was last here, will ever encourage him to a second 
 
160 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 venture. Be sure, father, that he shall never intrude under my 
 auspices. But sir " 
 
 He paused. He felt the necessity of prudence. 
 
 Well but what ?" said the veteran. 
 
 " Nothing now, sir ; but, is it not near the dinner hour J I 
 confess to an amazing appetite." 
 
 The veteran smiled grimly. 
 
 " You shall have some dinner. Meanwhile, sir, not to pro 
 voke your appetite to a too intense degree, you shall join me in 
 some wine-bitters." 
 
 And the stomachic was resorted to, and the parties smacked 
 their lips after it. 
 
 " To a dragoon, sir, in our service," said the young officer, 
 " food and drink become primary principles. Our supplies are 
 served so capriciously, that it is a rule with the dragoon to eat 
 and drink whenever opportunity offers. If he dines with you 
 this hour, and another dinner offers the next, he welcomes it 
 without any consciousness of the feast that he has just finished. 
 And thus,eating inordinately one day, he will go without food 
 for three, yet suffer little inconvenience." 
 
 " That is the case with the Indians. I have known a Chero 
 kee runner go eight days, on a trot ten hours per day, eating 
 nothing but a handful of browned maize, some three times a 
 day, and without seeming to feel hunger, or the want of meat ; 
 yet, put the meat before him and he will devour you ten pounds 
 at a sitting." 
 
 " Ten pounds, father?" exclaimed Carrie. 
 
 " On my life, true ! You must not look upon the red-skin 
 as a monster, Carrie. The white will do the same thing under 
 similar circumstances, nay, eat his grandmother, and never need 
 for his dishes the dressing of a Parisian cook. Nature is full 
 of such seeming anomalies ; and you are to estimate the per 
 formance by a regard to the previous endurance. Irregularity 
 of food produces a spasmodic vigor of the stomach, which makes 
 it capable of astonishing performances. 
 
 " But just in the same degree does the capacity for drink les 
 sen under the same circumstances. Your starving man can not 
 drink much safely, or without danger to the brain. He grows 
 terribly wolfish and savage from drink when famished, and ir 
 
DICK OF TOPHET S LATER MOVEMENT. 161 
 
 something of a madman. By the way, Willie, I do not find 
 that old Madeira does me any hurt with the gout" filling his 
 glass as he spoke with the amher-hued beverage. The young 
 man followed his example. 
 
 Our physicians, sir, you are aware, recommend the old Ma 
 deira as beneficial in gout, and though the opinion is somewhat 
 questioned, I do not see with what reason. You drink a drug as 
 medicine, in gout, which is dissolved in the strongest alcohol. 
 The drug itself passes into the circulation, and must affect tin 
 brain, and when you affect the brain, you necessarily affect tht 
 general health always. Now, what worse can old Madeira do 1 
 unless, sir and there lies the true difficulty you drink more 
 than the proper dose ; a danger which is always present when 
 the medicine is so very palatable." 
 
 " T, faith, you re right. I suspect that is the true distinction. 
 There" pushing away the bottle " I will take no more to 
 day. You must finish it for yourself, Willie." 
 
 As an old proverb hath it, father A short horse is soon 
 curried ! and he pointed to the greatly-diminished measure in 
 the decanter." 
 
 " Oh ! do not apprehend that your allowance shall be short. 
 There is a good supply above stairs, though my Lord Rawdon, 
 and the young Irishman did play a famous stick among the 
 bottles. They left half a dozen dead men, floored as complete 
 ly as if the shilelah had been at work. Ah ! Willie, I should 
 Mke you to know Fitzgerald." 
 
 "Not, L trust, while his sword is at the bosom of my country 
 But enough of that. Ha ! here is Congaree Polly." 
 
 And the great staring negro woman made her appearance 
 Htli waiters, knives, forks, &c., all significant of preparations 
 .or the approaching dinner. 
 
 " By the way, Polly, what do you say to Little Peter for a 
 husband ?" 
 
 " Ki ! Mass Willie, wha I hab for say ? Wha Little Peter 
 wants wid me ?" 
 
 " Come ! come ! Polly, no highflying airs with me. Will you 
 have Little Peter, or shall I send him over to milkwoman Lenah V 
 
 " He kin tek [take] Lenah ef he want em." 
 
 " Then 1 must tell Jiim you won t have him." 
 
102 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Wha for, Mass Willie, you bodder you se f wid nigger de 
 fections 1 Lc do niggar look out lie own wife. T spec Little 
 Peter kin ten to lie own consarns." 
 
 "Well, as you please," said the major laughing "you are 
 all hypocrites together. But hark ye, Polly, have you looked 
 in upon our prisoner down stairs. How does he get on?" 
 
 "lie call me, leettle bit ago, when I bin guinet rough do 
 passage, and beg me gee em some water." 
 
 " Well, you gave him?" 
 
 " Yes, he drink de whole calabash. Den he shibber all ober, 
 and say he berry cole, and beg me put leetle bit o fire in de cliim- 
 bley." 
 
 " But you did not, woman V 
 
 11 Oh ! yes ! De man so cole, Mass Willie, and shibber so all 
 ober ;" and the wench suited the action to the word in very 
 wintry fashion. 
 
 " Fire in midsummer ! Fool ! fool !" exclaimed the major 
 of dragoons ; and, whirling the astounded negro out of his way, 
 he dashed down into the basement with the utmost speed of 
 blood and limbs. 
 
 The instincts and the experience of the partisan soldier, were 
 not easily mistaken. His sudden apprehensions were all real 
 ized. Dick of Tophet was nowhere to be seen, but the frag 
 ments of the ropes which had bound him lay about, half consu 
 med by the fire ; and the blazing torches cast upon the floor of 
 the apartment, were beginning to blaze and crackle very mer 
 rily. Had the room been furnished with any inflammable ma 
 terial, the discovery made by the major would not have been 
 in season to save the dwelling. 
 
 With one so prompt, cool, and" energetic as our major of dra 
 goons, it required but a few moments to extinguish the fire. 
 Having done this, and in a close and hurried search about the 
 premises, seen that the outlaw was really gone, and was nowhere 
 lurking in the immediate precincts, Willie Sinclair hurried up 
 stairs. 
 
 " One is never safe," said he, " let him be never so sure, par 
 ticularly when there are women near him, no matter what the 
 color. Thei? sympathies are so many weapons in the hands of 
 the cunning. This rascal is off." 
 
DICK OF TOI HRT S LATER MOVEMENT. l>3 
 
 ;tf! and out of Benny s hitch !" said the old man. 
 
 ^ ! and it is difficult to say what hitch, short of that which 
 ^ aids him to a hickory, would make such a scoundrel sure. 
 I wa a fool to trust him out of my own sight, or to suffer any 
 to approai h him. But, it is a lesson that I will not forget. 
 Get to the housetop. Carrie, and look out. We must prepare 
 for every t rt of darerw ! a siege perhaps a storm !" 
 
THE FOBAYEBS. 
 
 OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVii 
 
 NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION 
 
 THE operations of Dick of Tophet, however mysterious the 
 proceeding might appear to those who know nothing of the re 
 source and hardihood which were acquirable in such a civil wai 
 as that which raged in the Carolinas and Georgia during the 
 last three years of the Revolution, were yet exceedingly simple. 
 One would think that, tied hand and foot, his arms laced to 
 gether behind his back, it would be impossible for the outlaw to 
 make his escape without succor from another party. But the 
 fire once accorded him by the slave, the rest was easy. Dick 
 could easily simulate the sufferings of one seized with " the 
 shaking agy." His " shibbering" imposed upon the sympathies 
 and unquestioning simplicity of Congaree Polly ; and a negro, 
 even in midsummer, never needs an argument to establish the 
 advantages of a blazing fire. Polly never hesitated to light the 
 brands :or Dick just as he required. He had no other service 
 to seek at her hands ; and, the moment she disappeared, the 
 hardy ivffian thrust his feet over the blazing lightwood, and en 
 dured tho scorching flame without shudder or retreat, until the 
 cords snapped in twain which bound his legs together. He was 
 greatly scorched and burnt, but he was tough, and however 
 deficient in other virtues, he had that of endurance in perfec 
 tion. He was now able to stand upon his feet, and to walk. 
 Could he escape ? Was he watched ? Where were his guards ? 
 To answer these questions satisfactorily required some little 
 time, and he proceeded to look into his situation with the great 
 est precaution. He occupied one of four rooms in a brick base 
 ment. These rooms were appropriated to inferior purposes. 
 One was a lumber-room, the door of which was locked. This 
 was opposite his own. Another was a " wash-room," and he 
 
NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION. . 165 
 
 eould liear the blanckisseuse at her operations within. Tlie door 
 was open. A common passage led to all, and by a stair-flight 
 to the upper apartments. To these he had no desire to ascend, 
 now that he was weaponless, and knew what sort of customer 
 he should probably have to encounter in his attempt. It was 
 quite dear that he was able to escape from the dwelling, but 
 was it equally certain that he should succeed, unseen, in cros 
 sing the court, and getting into the cover of the woods ? At all 
 events these offered him the only chance of refuge. The effort 
 must be made. Any peril which might follow him in flight was 
 preferable to the certain doom which awaited him in his pres 
 ent bonds. He knew Willie Sinclair well. He knew what he 
 had to expect in the camp of Marion to which he concluded 
 himself to be destined. There was not a moment s hesitation 
 in his adoption of the resolve to fly. 
 
 But in what manner was the question ? He had made his 
 observations, stealing from door to door of the several apart 
 ments of the basement, listening at each, peeping into them 
 through crack and keyhole, and, out of the house, through door 
 and window. The employment, by Sinclair, of most of the 
 house-servants along the edge of the wood below a fact which 
 our outlaw now readily conceived afforded him comparative free 
 dom from detection while making his reconnoissance. The kitchen 
 was some thirty yards from the house. Half-a-dozen little ne 
 groes were playing in front of it. Congarce Polly could be 
 seen occasionally going to and fro. It required but five minutes 
 to pass from the dwelling to a little copse on the right which 
 gradually stretched aAvay till it mingled with the trees of the 
 avenue along the public road. This was the route Avhich the 
 w.tlaw proposed to take, as likely to afford the best shelter, and 
 HS. most probably, -left unwatched by the scouting negroes. 
 
 p >ut should he be encountered his arms bound no weapon 
 m his grasp ? The meanest negro of the plantation could, in 
 such case and lie well knew, would despatch him with a 
 biilo -. The fieice outlaw shuddered at the thought of his de- 
 ."encelessness in such a danger. To die fighting was scarcely a 
 subject of his fears at any time ; but to be incapable of a blow ; 
 to see it descending, and from a negro s, hand, and offer no re- 
 listance; this was a fear which the ruffian could not contem- 
 
166 THE FORAYER8. 
 
 plate without a shudder. If free fj> fly, he must be free to fighr 
 He must be able to lift his hands unmanacled, and to grasp a 
 weapon in them. 
 
 It is surprising how soon one finds means and resources where 
 the will and courage are not wanting. How thought meets no 
 cessity, and ingenuity extricates strength from shackles. Will 
 and courage are the true gods of circumstance, and supply the 
 tools as well as the opportunity. Now, base, bloody, brutal as he 
 was, Dick of Tophet had these qualities in large degree. With 
 one or more other virtues he might have been a great man. 
 Had his education trained his sensibilities and tastes, equally 
 with his nerves and muscles, he might have substituted the 
 name of hero for that of outlaw. As it was, he was capable 
 of great things in the latter character. He conceived the process 
 by which to release his arms from the rope ; he had but to exer 
 cise the same firmness in the process that he had shown whil 
 his ankles had been held above the flame of the blazing light- 
 wood and he could be free ! The performance was a more 
 tedious as well as trying one, but if his endurance held, it was 
 as certain in its results. 
 
 Conceive now the awkwardness of this proceeding, as we 
 watch his operations. His arms are fast tethered together be 
 hind his back, the wrists secured by the ropes with a space of 
 a few inches between them. It was as Benny Bowlegs boasted, 
 " a powerful hitch" such as it would have been impossible for 
 any physical strength to rend asunder. The knot was crossed just 
 beneath the small of the outlaw s back. He calculated all his 
 difficulties nicely; then, with his feet, drew one of the biasing 
 brands from the fireplace out upon the hearth. This done he 
 deliberately let himself down upon the floor, in a half-sitting 
 half-lying posture, with the cord directly over the blaze. In 
 this position he could see nothing of the operation only fed I 
 His clothes took fire. He rolled himself over upon the flooi 
 and thus extinguished it ; rolled himself back over the flame 
 and was again in a blaze ! He had recourse to the same ex 
 pedient as before, of rolling upon his back, until the flame was 
 subdued. Thrice did he require to sav himself in this manner 
 and terrible was the suffering which he endured. His back was 
 in a blister his neck his very hair was seized by the flame; 
 
CAUSES OF APPKUHENSIOH. iO/ 
 
 But such was his coolness arid resolution that he persevered 
 until the cords snapped apart that bound him, and his arms were 
 free : then he leaped to his feet, and in the joy which he felt, in 
 spite of all his pain, he could scarce forbear whooping aloud his 
 triumph. Let the prisoner, in a similar " hitch" take note of 
 the process by which it may be undone, and if he has the cour 
 age to endure, he has in his own hands the means of his escape. 
 
 The mind s conscious triumph almost subdues the body s suf 
 ferings. Our Dick of Tophet suffered truly, but not so much at 
 this moment, as lie was destined to suffer a few hours later. 
 Hie anxiety helped somewhat to subdue the intensity of his 
 pains. He had trembled while his experiment was in progress, 
 not because of the pain, but lest he should be interrupted. But 
 our major of dragoons was too busy with the family above stairs 
 the outlaw could hear the subdued tones of their voices, while 
 he stole through the passage; and Congaree Polly was en 
 gaged in the solemn duty of spreading the table for dinner. 
 She had passed up-stairs and down, and from the house to the 
 kitchen, twice, while the prisoner was undergoing his self- 
 niposed infliction of fire. He had heard her progress, and then 
 It was that his heart swelled, and his frame trembled with ap 
 prehension. It was over ! His limbs were free, and he must 
 be prompt if he \v Aild escape. He had no time to think of 
 l nt clothes, shrivelled hair, and blistered back and arms. 
 His sleeves were burnt, his arms scorched and blackened from 
 wrist to elbow; but he was free. His hands were free his 
 (eet ! He allowed them no delay. He gave himself a moment 
 only to draw the brands from the hearth and lay them down 
 together on the floor. He cursed the bare chamber in which he 
 had been lodged that it contained no fuel, no furniture, no bed 
 clothes, no stuffs of any kind which could be made to contribute 
 to the rapid spread of the fire. Should the house suddenly 
 break out into flame, his chances of escape would be increased ; 
 and then what a fine turn of vengeance would he have done 
 the class of " harrystocrats" that he so much hated ! 
 
 lie did what he could, in the brief moment allowed him to 
 effect his vindictive and destructive object. He piled the bla 
 zing lightwood upon the floor, and left it to do its pleasure, 
 as Willie Sinclair found it. 
 
168 THE PORAYElte. 
 
 Tlie latter fortunately came in season to stifle the flame which 
 had already communicated to the floor. It required but a few 
 moments to draw the brands apart, and cast water upon the 
 burning fragments. 
 
 " Fool that I was !" he muttered, as he was thus employed, 
 "to suffer a negro and a woman too to approach the scoun 
 drel !" and thus muttering and feeling, he made his way up 
 stairs and sounded his bugle thrice to summon to the house his 
 two scouting negro-fellows, and such others as they might, have 
 gathered about them. 
 
 " But where is the dog where is Tiger all this time 1 1 had 
 thought to ask after him before. Had he been about the dwel 
 ling this villain never would have ventured nigh. At all events 
 we should have had warning of every one of the rascal s move 
 ments." 
 
 " Little Peter been tek Tiger wid em to de wood," answered 
 Congaree Polly. 
 
 " Ah ! that accounts for it ! I can not blame him, for Tiger 
 would be quite as serviceable on the scout as here But we 
 must now have them all back, Benny, Peter, Tiger all that 
 we can gather together. We must contract our forces if we 
 would make them answer any good purpose. To encountei 
 these rascals properly, we must draw them out of the wcoa 
 We are quite a match for them, I think, if they venture to at 
 tack the house." 
 
 And Willie Sinclair again sounded the bugle for the return 
 of the negroes. 
 
 " What a determined rascal !" exclaimed the veteran, medi 
 tating the outlaw s escape. " Who could have thought it? And 
 how the scoundrel must have suffered ! What hardihood and 
 endurance. By Jove, sir, if that fellow could have been caught 
 young, and trained properly, he would have become famous." 
 
 "Yes, indeed ! We know him of old. He is capable of the 
 most desperate things. Let me tell you, sir, his scorchings must 
 have been a few degrees severer than your twinges of gout !" 
 
 "And then the resource !" 
 
 " Yes, it reminds me of an affair that took place at the cap 
 ture of Orangeburg, when Fisher held the garrison by Sumter. 
 Among the prisoners were two notorious outlaws, Cooper and Pen- 
 
NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION. 16b 
 
 darvis. Tlic y were intrusted to the care of two wliigs, Travis an I. 
 Ducsto ; Travis, by the way, being a cousin of the Captain Tra 
 vis, of Edisto, of whom we have spoken. ^o doubt that the 
 persons would have been tried and hung when they had reached 
 Belleville; but the two men having charge of them, were impa 
 tient of any such tedious process of getting rid of them. They 
 were personal enemies of the prisoners, and the latter gave 
 them some trouble along the road, requiring, every now and 
 then, to be pricked forward with the bayonet. They were both 
 handcuffed together, the left arm of Cooper being riveted to the 
 right of Pendarvis. As the evening approached, Travis propo 
 sed to Duesto, to shoot the prisoners, and thus relieve them 
 selves from the trouble in respect to them. The measure was 
 agreed on, and both fired at the same moment. The two 
 handcuffed men fell together, Pendarvis sprawling completely 
 over the body of Coopef. The former was slain outright, the 
 latter only wounded slightly. But he pretended to be dead and 
 lay quiet. The murderers ascertained that Pendarvis was dead, 
 and they presumed that Cooper was also. But to make sure, 
 Travis run his bayonet through Cooper s neck, the wounded 
 man feeling and hearing the steel as it grated in the sand below 
 him. Yet he was cool and hardy enough still to remain quiet, 
 and so they wore left on the roadside, not a mile from the vil 
 lage. When they were gone, Cooper recovered, and threw off 
 the body of Pendarvis. But, handcuffed to the dead man, with 
 the use of his own ri^nt only, how was he to extricate himself? 
 The hitch seems to have been more sure than that of our Dick of 
 Tophet. But he had similar resources. He dragged the body 
 of Pendarvis, who was a very large and portly person, to the 
 woods, there he found a couple of lightvvood knots; he laid the 
 fettered hand of the dead man upon one of these knots, and 
 wiih the other he beat it to a jelly, then withdrew it from the 
 shackle; and, wounded in the body, with a bayonet thrust through 
 tha neck, feeble from loss of blood, the stubborn scoundrel 
 made off, carrying with him the handcuffs, till he got down to 
 Fletcher s blacksmith shop, where he had the fetters stricken 
 off, and made his way finally in safety to his home in the Forks 
 of Edisto. He is living yet, and, I am sorry to say, is as great 
 a rogue and tf ry as ever." 
 
 8 
 
170 THE FOR^YERS. 
 
 " The fellow was a hero, sir and I rejoice that such hardy 
 courage is engaged on the right side." 
 
 "The right side with him, and most of the same kidney, it- 
 tliat which promises most plunder. Li l es s than three months, 
 he will probably find his way to Marion s camp, imploring to be. 
 received to mercy, and professing the greatest penitence for hi 
 evil deeds. Courage and endurance are no doubt admirable 
 virtues in a soldier, but they are such as we are just as apt to 
 find in the bosom of a sturdy ruffian. All of these rascals with 
 whom we are now threatened are in the service of his Britan 
 nic majesty." 
 
 " D n >em ! I don t care in whose service they profess to 
 be, if I can only get a shot at them. But, for this infernal 
 gout, Willie, I should answer confidently against a score of the 
 scamps; but wheel me up to yonder window, and let me have 
 my pistols. By the Lord Harry, but I long to have a crack or 
 two at a scoundrel before I cease to kick. I feel that a little 
 excitement in my head will lessen the infernal twitchings in my 
 foot. Oh ! for ten years that I have lost I may say in doing 
 nothing." 
 
 "I would to Heaven, sir, that you had twenty back, and 
 were fighting on the right side." 
 
 " Oh ! d n the side !" cried the old man, now thoroughly 
 roused and ex,cited. " Devil take the side when a fight s going 
 for a d ! That s not the time to discuss the rights of the ques 
 tion. Wheel me to the window I say, Willie, and let me have 
 a hand in the game. The pistols, Carrie, the old dogs ! I will 
 refresh their memories with a good feed." 
 
 " Here they are., papa," cried Lottis. running up. " Her\, 
 they are Shall I load em for you, papa ?" 
 
 " Load em for me ! Hear that, Willie > What think you or 
 my putting Lottie in small-clothes, anJ making her my hench 
 man ? Ha ! ha ! And who taught you tc load pistols, hussy? 
 
 " Oh ! I can load them, papa : I ve seen brother Willie k & 
 em often, and I watched him. First you put in the powde. 
 you know there s the little charger then the wadding, 
 then the bullet and you wad that too, papa." 
 
 " By the Lord Harry she does seem to know all about i : I 
 Well, you shall load one of them, Lottie, while I load the other 
 
NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION. 171 
 
 Now, let us see how you put your education to use. Right ! 
 That is the measure." 
 
 Ami, really, the little creature showed that she had watched 
 the process closely; she proceeded to her task with equal 
 promptness and propriety. 
 
 " That will do for ramming the powder down, Lottie, 
 There s a rule in rhyme for ramming, Lottie, which you will 
 
 icmcmber : 
 
 " Ram powder light, 
 But bullet tight! 
 
 Good ! I see you know all about it, my girl. You shall be a 
 soldier s wife, Lottie." 
 
 " Yes, papa : I shall be Lord Edward s, papa ; he s such a 
 nice, handsome, brave cavalier!" 
 
 "What! so ambitious, little Lottie! But that can t be. 
 Lord Edward is for Carrie, and you must not think to rival 
 your sister, Lottie." 
 
 " Oh ! she shall have all my rights, papa," cried Carrie, with 
 a slight suffusion of the cheek, as she was employed parading 
 swords and pistols for her brother ; " I relinquish in Lottie s 
 favor." 
 
 " Yes, papa, sis don t want Lord Edward. She s for another 
 sort of cavalier. Don t you remember the song she made : 
 " There was a gallant cavalier. " 
 
 "Hush, Lottie, hush, child!" said Carrie, unnecessarily flushed 
 in the face. 
 
 " Let her speak, Carrie," said the old man. " She is evi- 
 nently far advanced in a damsel s peculiar education. She is 
 preparing herself to be a soldier s bride." 
 It must be Lord Edward, papa," 
 
 ""Well, if you will be your sister s rival, it is at your own 
 peri;. . but where s Willie gone?" 
 
 The major of dragoons had left the house, and the veteran 
 nrw for the nrst time heard the distant baying of bloodhounds 
 in the woods below, significant of a hunt in progress. It was 
 these sounds which had called him off from the party ; and, 
 whispering to Carrie to keep a sharp look-out from the upper 
 story, he stole out, well armed, to join the negroes, who had 
 thus far failed to answer the requisitions of his bugle. 
 
172 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 He found Benny on the alert Peter was scouting with the 
 dog Tiger. 
 
 "He must come in," said the major. "These fellows wil! 
 capture him." 
 
 " Nebber fear for Little Peter, Mass Willie ; dem blackguard 
 nebber guine catch em." 
 
 " But we want him here, Benny. We shall need him and 
 many others, I fear. That rascal Hell-fire Dick has got off." 
 
 " Git off! Hell-fire Dick git off! How he git off, out o da* 
 hitch I put on em ?" demanded the negro in consternation. 
 
 Briefly, the major told the story of the good services of Con 
 garee Polly. 
 
 " Dat gal will be de deaf of me yii!" cried Benny Bowlegs. 
 " And wha for done now ?" 
 
 " Fall back and protect the house. We may look for an at 
 tack from these scoundrels. It is evident that Dick has not yet 
 joined them, or he would stop their trailing. He now knows 
 where I am. He knows that I have no support." 
 
 " Wha ! and whay s Benny Bowlegs ? Enty he s yer !" 
 And he dropped the butt of the shot-gun of his master, with 
 which he had armed himself, heavily upon the ground, with the 
 air of an old soldier who knew his strength. "And whay s 
 Little Peter ? Little Peter guine fight like de debbil, Willie 
 Sinclair, when de scratch come !" 
 
 " I hope so, Benny ; so we ll have Little Peter r\ as soon as 
 possible." And he prepared to sound for him. 
 
 " Le me gee um a call, Mass Willie ; Little Peter 
 hen s my music better dan your n." 
 
 And the fellow blew three peculiar notes on his hunting-horn 
 an instrument with which all southern negroes are pretty 
 familiar, and which the cowdriver and the hog-minder employ 
 as much as the deer-hunter. Soon they heard Peter s response 
 and before many minutes the fellow made his appearance, fol 
 lowed by Tiger. The dog was lively, keen, wistful, and impa 
 tient eager, apparently, to retrace his steps to the 
 where still, at moments, the deep, distant baying of his 
 species was to be heard. 
 
 " See how he bristle up !" said Little Peter, pointing to fch* 
 dog. 
 
NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION. 173 
 
 " T sooner hab Tige dan half ob dem foot-sodgers !" quoth 
 Benny, rubbing down the dog s bristles. 
 
 The major did not seem to heed what was said. He mused 
 a while, then remarked : 
 
 " We have men enough for our weapons, Benny, if not enough 
 for these outlaws." 
 
 " Hab nough for dem too, maussa." 
 
 " I hope so ! I trust we shall have more in another hour. 
 Meantime, it might be well to gather up a dozen of the field 
 hands. They will -fight at a pinch." 
 
 " Some o dem, maussa. But it must be a hard pinch, I tell 
 you. Let me stand behind Bullhead Dabe, Slick Sam, and 
 Snubnose Martin, an I mek em fight. Ef you say so, I kin 
 sen off, and bring up tree, seben, fibe ob de boys." 
 
 "Do so; send Peter at once. Where s the indigo-field, this 
 year ?" 
 
 " Jest a mile off, back ob de settlement." 
 
 " It s most time for first cutting, Benny." 
 
 " Two week off, at furdest, maussa. Ha ! you ain t forgit 
 how to mek a crop !" 
 
 " The hands are not there V 
 
 " No, sah ! dey re working in de corn jest now ; and dat s 
 only tree quarters ob a mile. Set off, you, Little Peter, and 
 bring up Bullhead Dabe, and Slick Sam, and Snubnose Martin ; 
 and don t you say noting bout de sawt ob work we hab for em; 
 and don t you stop for talk wid any ob dem woman. Woman 
 is always sure for spile de sport ob sodger gemplemans. As for 
 you gal, Congaree Polly, member I owe em a licking, and 
 ef you no liabe [behave] yourself decent an orderly, I hab for 
 gee um. Wha you tink, tis 1dm let dat d d polecat, Debbi! 
 Dick, out ob de hitch I mek." 
 
 "You no tell me so, Uncle Benny ! I lick em mese f S" ex 
 claimed Little Peter indignantly. " Wha he hab for do wid 
 Debbil Dick ?" and he looked fiercely inquisitive ; and, as ho 
 said afterward, he felt " sassy like a wild-cat." 
 
 "Nebber min dat !" quoth Benny. " Be off on you trottera 
 Lef de dog. We s maybe want em yer." 
 
 Par parenthese, we may mention, that a nickname, derived 
 from an event or a characteristic, sticks wonderfully to a plaa 
 
174 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 tation-negro. Bullhead Daby, and Slick Sam, had their epi 
 thets from characteristic qualities ; Simbnose Martin Avas dis 
 tinguished by the most contemptible of his features, one of the 
 meanest and " onnaterallest leetle bits of noses," according to 
 Benny, that ever dared to stand out from a broad lake of face ; 
 a sort of petty islet in the sea of Acheron. Congaree Polly 
 was so named in contradistinction to Wassamasaw Polly an- 
 cther woman on the same plantation. The prefixes, in both 
 cases, were derived from their places of birth. We may add 
 that it was no uncommon thing to find the whites similarly dis 
 criminated by the common people. There were the Savannah 
 ri-^er and the Edisto Huttos for example; the Santee and 
 Ashepoo and Edisto Baltezegars, &c. ; and, in all these and 
 many other instances, the families were found on opposite sides 
 in the war. 
 
 Little Peter was off in a moment to bring up his recruits. 
 Meanwhile, the sounds of the hunt from below seemed to ap 
 proach. The baying of the beagles could be heard distinctly, 
 and the cries of the hunters cheering them, on, were now dis 
 tiriguished. 
 
 " We must put ourselves under cover, and in readiness. We 
 may have to stand a siege, Benny." 
 
 "" God be praise, Mass Willie, we kin all fight like de debbil." 
 
 Benny, you will perceive, was piously inclined. 
 
 " If we can keep them off, for a single hour, Benny, we shall 
 ask no odds." 
 
 Wha you speck in dat single hour, maussa ?" 
 
 " Peyre St. Julien, with a company of my battalion, Benny." 
 
 " Ha ! I lub to hear bout battalion. Battalions is better dan 
 ngiments." 
 
 " Rather ! I wish these scoundrels to besiege us, Benny, and 
 would have them come on with confidence." 
 
 " Da s right ; for ef Cappin St. Julien is a-coming, den w<? 
 hab de blackguards in a trap." 
 
 " Exactly ! There were only four of them last night, l.-ut 
 there may be more this morning. I suspect they have been 
 joined by others of the gang." 
 
 " De more de better ! Den de buzzard will hab better chance 
 at picking, and moutbe, won t nose up so many my sheep." 
 
NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION. 175 
 
 Benny, like most drivers on a plantation, usually spoke of it, 
 with all its chattels, as his own. So, discussing the prospects 
 before them, the two took their way to the house, the do^ fol 
 lowing them, but with some reluctance. 
 
 Here, Willie Sinclair made all his dispositions for defence 
 Benny brought into requisition certain little negroeo, who 19 ere 
 set to watch from housetop, tree, arid kitchen. 4 Oongaree Polly, 
 rather in disgrace, and terribly humbled, war sent up to thb 
 roof, and her head, looking pilloried and ve-y black in the 
 face, was thrust through the scuttle; and, with watches set, and 
 weapons loaded/Willie Sinclair bade the cook bring in the din 
 ner as she could his father showing himself qi He impatient at 
 the prospect of having his roast lamb and boilec mitton, upon 
 which he prided himself, overdone. The orders Ox his son pro 
 pitiated him. 
 
 " A cook that does her dishes to rags, Willie," r _oth he, " is 
 an emissary of the devil." 
 
 " An opinion," replied the other, " for which my friend Cap 
 tain Porgy would embrace you, sir, across the table." 
 
 "Porgy Captain Porgy, sir ? Is it possible, Willie Sinclair, 
 that your miserable service requires you to associate with per 
 sons having such detestable names ? Why, sir, among gentle 
 men, even the fish of that name is only held fit for negroes." 
 
 " Sir, I believe, with Shakspere, that a rose by any other 
 name would smell as sw^et. " 
 
 " And I don t believe in any such doctrine. Names are not 
 only things, sir, but they are significant of virtues. Call a rose 
 a radish and it bites the tongue. And that any respectable 
 service should accord a commission to a man named Porgy is 
 absolutely monstrous." 
 
 " Wait, sir, till you know my friend Porgy." 
 
 " God forbid, sir, that I ever should." 
 
 " When you do, sir as I am now sworn that you shall know 
 him I will wager a wagon-load of continental money against 
 a Jacobus, that you offer him not only a perpetual seat at your 
 table, but the entire management of your cook. Captain 
 Porgy, sir, is the only wit and buffoon, sir, that I ever met, or 
 heard of, who never suffered you once to forget that he was all 
 Ac while a gentleman," 
 
~<: THE FORAYERS. 
 
 And the party sat dowi to dinner 
 
 "Now," said the veteran, " if these rascals will only hold of? 
 tiF VT have swallowed dinner, I shall be in better mood for the 
 feonflist." 
 
 Thought like an Englishman !" said the major of dragoons 
 4.ncl how should I think but as ?~n Englishman, and where 
 co yju flunk the American or any other race, would think dif 
 ferently ? Yorr rascally French allies are not to be quoted at 
 i\\ in such matters." 
 
 And yet they are held to be perfect masters in such mat 
 ters 
 
 "Ay, sir, as cooks, to dress and prepare the food, sir, but not 
 10 eat it. (five them what credit you please, as cooks, but the 
 grace, t ute, and general ability, with which an Englishman 
 eats, is unequalled, sir, by any people." 
 
 " The subject is one of endless ramifications, sir, and would 
 require for its discussion more practical experience than I have 
 yet had in such matters ; but we may safely assume, I think, 
 that a people who know so well how to prepare the dishes, is 
 hardly wanting in the ability to do them proper justice." 
 
 " Well, sir, is that mutton to your liking ?" 
 
 " Exactly, sir ; and you see I am proving my ability after 
 our poor American fashion. In respect, however, to the effect 
 which a good dinner, not stinted, has upon the fighting man, 
 you should hear my friend Porgy. lib- says, that an American 
 should never be forced into battle with a full stomach. He ad 
 mits the British to be differently constituted, but thinks that, 
 even with them, the appetite should never be fully pacified be 
 fore fighting. With all classes, he is of opinion, that the better 
 course is to put the dinner before them a good one as good 
 and tempting as possible let them see it, till their eyes be 
 come fascinated nay, let them taste it, but only taste and 
 then, let the drums beat and the bugles sound to quarters. 
 Soldiers, thus tantalized, he asserts to be the most dangerous 
 customers in the world absolutely wolfish who will then 
 tear and rend their foes, having no fear ; each man having, as 
 it were, a personal feeling of revenge to gratify, as if robbed 
 by his enemy of the choicest blessing of his life." 
 
 " He s no fool, that fish ! There s sense in the notion." 
 
NEW CAUSES OP APPREHENSION. 177 
 
 " They tell a good story," continued the major, " of the mode 
 which ho employed to convert a timid fellow into a desperado. 
 Just before the beginning of our Revolution " 
 
 "Rebellion, sir." 
 
 " Well, sir, rebellion be it! I care very little now, for the 
 distinction." 
 
 The father growled, and pushed the Madeira toward the son. 
 
 "Drink, sir, and imbibe more sensible notions at once of 
 names and things." 
 
 " Long life and a good appetite for all good things, sir, to 
 the end of the chapter ! Carrie, my dear, wet your lips with 
 us" 
 
 " Well, sir, to your story."* 
 
 "Porgy, sir, who, before the war, was a rice-planter on the 
 Ashepoo, a Ion vivant, and fast liver, though a great reader, 
 and philosophical humorist, was employed by one of the Fen- 
 wickes to answer for him as a friend, in an interview with a gen 
 tleman who bore the challenge of one Major Pritchard. Porgy 
 would have declined, as Fenwicke was supposed to be constitu 
 tionally timid ; but the young fellow appealed to him with a 
 good deal of pathos. He was, in fact almost friendless on the 
 occasion ; had quarrelled with his family and associates, and 
 was rather in Coventry, in consequence of some gaming trans 
 actions. Porgy s good nature made him yield ; but he felt the 
 awkwardness of going out with a person who might show the 
 white feather. How was lie to prevent such a discreditable 
 exhibition ? As I have said, Porgy is something of a philoso 
 pher, and entertains peculiar notions of the effect of food, and 
 the various sorts of it, upon the moral as well as physical 
 nature. Red pepper, for example, he avers to be an article, 
 which, taken in quantity, will irritate the temper, but lessen 
 the nerve. He has similar opinions of other condiments, spices, 
 and even drinks, in lessening the courage. Whiskey, he holds 
 to be decidedly hurtful to valor; " 
 
 "Gad, there s something reasonable in the fellow s philosophy. 
 I have that notion myself." 
 
 He says that when our militia-men run " 
 
 " As they are monstrous apt to do !" 
 
 " It is clue to the fact that they drink whiskey, and not Jamai 
 
 8* 
 
178 THE FOKAYEKS. 
 
 ca, which lie values much more as a good moral stimulus. But, 
 like you, sir, he has a better faith in Madeira, than in any other 
 known beverage." 
 
 " I fancy I shall like that fellow, Porgy." 
 
 " You will, sir ; but to my story. The arrangements made 
 for the affair between Fenwicke and Pritchard, the time fixed, 
 and all adjusted, Porgy took his principal home to his house the 
 morning before the affair was to take place. This, he did, 
 under the pretext of avoiding the sheriff s officers. He kept 
 him locked up in an upper chamber, and lef: him to himself for 
 twelve hours, on a slender supply of biscuit and Madeira. 
 Before noon the supply was exhausted, and the housekeeper 
 had no keys, and but three cold-boiled Irish potatoes which 
 Porgy esteems fine food for soldiers were to be found in an 
 open cupboard. These Fenwicke devoured without salt or 
 butter. At midnight Porgy made his appearance and made a 
 thousand apologies. Fenwicke was compelled to look satisfied ; 
 but when he asked for supper, there was no satisfactory answer 
 Porgy pleaded some singular disappointments in his supplies. 
 But he got out fresh biscuit and over a bottle of Madeira, he 
 succeeded in putting Fenwicke into tolerable humor. They 
 retired and both slept late ; but descended finally to an admira 
 ble breakfast in which everything that could excite appetite 
 was displayed. Fenwicke s eyes glistened. He rubbed his 
 hands. He was as hungry, by this time, as a dragoon s horse 
 on a long scout. He sat down, but was allowed to swallow only 
 two or three mouthfuls, when Porgy pulled out his watch and 
 started up in alarm. Good Heavens, Mr. Fenwicke, said he, 
 we shall be too late unless we go at a gallop. It is within 
 forty minutes of the time, and we have three miles to get to 
 the place of meeting. Fenwicke looked at him like a hyena. 
 Heavens, sir, I am famished! Never mind, quoth Porgy, 
 4 we shall only have a better appetite after the affair is over. 
 Everything shall be kept warm. See to it, Tom on your life, 
 see to it! he cried to his cook a famous fellow, by the way, 
 sir, the best cook in the army and thus speaking, he hurried 
 Fenwicke off to the horses which had previously been got in 
 readiness. They had scarcely mounted when Porgy called for 
 a bottle of porter which he divided between himself and hi* 
 
NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION. 179 
 
 companion. This will stay your stomach, sir, he said, and 
 this was all he allowed him, except a single biscuit, which 
 Fenwicke snatched up from the table." 
 
 " But why the porter, sir ?" 
 
 " To produce a more morbid condition of the stomach. To 
 divert the impression as much as possible from the brain. Such 
 was his theory at least. His philosophy is a curious one, and 
 he insists greatly upon the important uses of porter in the case 
 of nervous men, with an active imagination." 
 
 " Well, sir, what was the result ?" 
 
 " Why, that Fenwicke was sufficiently angry, on the gallop, 
 to quarrel with his second, goaded, it may be, by the provoca 
 tive sort of conversation in which Porgy indulged by the way. 
 He reached the ground in this humor, was impatient of all 
 control, impatient for the fight came up to the ring in hand 
 some style, rushed desperately in upon his antagonist, got a 
 flesh wound on breast and arm, but succeeded in running 
 Pritchard through the body." 
 
 Carrie Sinclair shuddered as she said : 
 
 " But he did not kill kirn, Willie ?" 
 
 " On the spot ! Yet, the moment the deed was done, he 
 nearly fainted, and could scarcely mount his horse. He stag 
 gered off like one mortally hurt himself." 
 
 " The fellow was no coward," said the old man, " only ten 
 derhearted." 
 
 " Porgy asserts that no man is absolutely a coward or abso 
 lutely brave ; that all depends on training ; that we are all, 
 more or less, the creatures of circumstance ; and that, in par 
 ticular conditions of mind, or body, or situation, we are auda 
 cious or timid; that every man, the most brave, has moments 
 of fear,* and that the most timid, under particular training, or 
 accidental influences, will show the most audacious valor ; that 
 the stomach has more to do with it than the brain or heart ; 
 and that the greatest secret in the training of the soldier, is 
 proper food, of the proper kind, at the proper time, and prop 
 erly cooked. He professes to believe that his cook Tom has 
 done more toward teaching his men how to fight, than all the 
 training of all the officers." 
 
 * This was subsequently the opinion of Napoleon and Wellington, 
 
180 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " I sli all like that fellow Porgy, I fancy. You may bring 
 him Irerc, Willie, should a chance offer, as soon as your instir 
 rection is over. But I do not believe in all Mr. Porgy s doc 
 trines. For my part, I may safely say that I never knew the 
 sentiment of fear in my life." 
 
 The major laughed then suddenly exclaimed, as if in con 
 sternation : 
 
 " Take care, Lottie, you are about to tread on papa s 
 foot!" 
 
 The old man screamed throwing up both hands: 
 
 " For God s sake, my child !" 
 
 The child had never moved was sitting quietly at the table 
 not near the gouty member! Such was the power of the 
 imagination, that the old man had never exercised a single 
 sense, before he screamed. The major of dragoons laughed 
 merrily. The veteran was fairly caught. He stormed out at 
 the commentary upon his confident self-applause, which was 
 the natural result of the apprehensions which could so easily 
 be awakened, and so completely revealed. 
 
 " Zounds, sir ! Do you make me a subject of your merri 
 ment !" 
 
 But the laughter of the son, and even of the girls, could not 
 be suppressed ; and, in a moment after, the veteran himself 
 joined in it. 
 
 "Ah ! Willie, we are but poor devils, the best of us, with all 
 our pretension! Pass the bottle, sir; the gout will make any 
 man a coward !" 
 
 At this moment the sounds of a horn were heard within the 
 enclosure, and Congaree Polly made her appearance, to report, 
 that the famous Pete Blodgit was advancing from the foot of 
 the garden, bearing a white flag. 
 
 " The scoundrel ! Shoot him down, Willie." 
 
 " No, sir, it would only be a bullet wasted upon a buzzard 
 Let us see what the fellow has to report, and to demand. Our 
 policy is to gain time. We want but an nour, if that ! But 
 one hour !" 
 
 Thus speaking, he rose from the table, and prepared for the 
 reception of the embassador. 
 
 " What is that hour to bring forth ! Why does he say an 
 
NEW CAUSES OF APPREHENSION. 1*1 
 
 hour ?" muttered the old man. His self query had suddenly 
 set him to think. 
 
 "Yes," said he solemnly. "Oh! God, what may not an 
 hour bring forth !" and he caught up his pistols, and bade 
 them wheel him to the window which he had undertaken to 
 defend. 
 
.02 THE FORA/ERfi. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE FIRST SHOT. 
 
 PETER BLODGIT, flag-bearer from the enemy, was welcomed 
 at the entrance of the dwelling by Benny Bowlegs. He was 
 made to dismount and enter the house by the veteran negro, 
 much against his will. His demand was that some member of 
 the household should come out to him ; but Benny at once re 
 pudiated the suggestion with disgust. 
 
 " Wha you talk bout, Pete Blodgit ! You speck gemple- 
 mans to come out yer and tan pon he legs to talk wid you, and 
 you poor bnekrah a setting on you critter all de time ? Lord 
 ha massy, . ~,ell maussa, de kurnel, sich a t irig, he come out 
 wid de horsewhip. Git you down from you critter, Pete 
 Blodgit, ann tretch you legs in de passage tell maussa is ready 
 to say Show de fellow in ! " 
 
 Like the servants of most of the lordly planters of that day, 
 Benny Bov/egs had but small esteem for the class whom he 
 described as poor buckrah." For Pete Blodgit, as a sample 
 of this class in particular, his disgust and contempt was with- 
 out limit. 
 
 "Hitch you critter to de tree, Pete Blodgit, and walk in. 
 Walk light, you ye r, and not heabby, wid dem cow ledder 
 shoes o yourn, for de kurnel likes a pusson to walk accordin 
 to he character. Ef you walk heaby, he say Can t be dat 
 Pete Blodgit hab-de imperdence to walk into my house as ef 
 lie been somebody ! " 
 
 Pete was not the man to resen*: the scornful counsel thus re 
 ceived, though he was not so obtuse as not to feel it. He kn^w 
 the sort of person with whom he had to deal, and his fears 
 served to subdue his resentment. He obeyed implicitly 
 hitched his horse to the tree the negro offering no assistance 
 
THE FIRST SHOT. 183 
 
 and, under Benny s escort, was walked into the basement 
 r-asoAge not suffered to ascend into the portion of the build 
 ing which the family occupied. Here, after a few minutes de 
 lay, he was confronted, to his great surprise, by the major of 
 dragoons. 
 
 He thrust out his flag a ragged handkerchief fastened to a 
 hickory rod at the approach of Willie Sinclair, half doubting 
 all the Avhile, that it would quite suffice for his protection. But 
 the tones of the major s voice reassured him. 
 
 " Well, Blodgit, what have you got there ?" 
 
 "A flag, major. It s for my purtection, you know, as I m a 
 a bearer of despatches." 
 
 " Ah ! you are rising in the world ! Well, from whom do 
 you bear despatches ?" 
 
 " From the men what s in the woods, major. 
 
 " And who are they ?" 
 
 " Well, thar s a dozen on em quite. You ll find their names 
 all to this dockyment." 
 
 "Yes, but who do they represent? Is it a body of the mili 
 tary ?" 
 
 " Yes, I reckon. They says so. They ve got we pons." 
 
 "Are they British or Americans, Pete ? Under which flag ?" 
 
 Blodgit had not been duly tutored on this head. He was a 
 little disquieted by the query ; but a rapid thought, which 
 taught him that, as Americans, the party would scarcely dare to 
 question Major Sinclair, instantly suggested the propriety of 
 reporting them on the other side. 
 
 " Well, major, I reckon they re sodgers of the king." 
 
 " So ! And you, then, have become a soldier of the king, 
 Pete Blodgit f 
 
 " Lord presarve rne, major, no ! I ain t no sodger no how, 
 but a man of peace, and a lame pusson to boot. But they 
 forced me to come, major, when I didn t want to, and they 
 swore a most furrocious oath that ef I didn t they d take my 
 ears off. So that s the how and the why that you sees me 
 hyar." 
 
 The major readily received this statement as probable. 
 
 " Well, sir, and to whom arc, your despatches addressed ?" 
 
 * Well, I reckon to the kurnel, sir, your father." 
 
184 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " How can that be if they are soldiers of the king 1 M} 
 father is a loyalist you know." 
 
 " Ah ! but they says lie ain t." 
 
 " Briefly, Pete Blodgit, these fellows are outlaws, and fight on 
 their own hook." 
 
 " Well, major, I reckon that s pretty nigh the raal truth in 
 the matter." 
 
 Sinclair was not the man to waste time in idle distinctions, 
 regarding such rapscallions as were represented by Pete Blodgit. 
 He knew quite as well as that worthy, the character of the sort 
 of people with whom he dealt; but his object in the dialogue 
 was to gain time. Hence his questions and remarks hitherto. 
 But he had another object when he asked the names and number 
 of the party in the woods. 
 
 " I reckon, major, there s nigh on to thirteen persons on 
 horseback." 
 
 "Not counting yourself?" 
 
 " Oh ! Lord, yes, sir. I aint to be counted at all. They 
 makes me do what I m a-doing." 
 
 " I can well believe it, my poor Pete. And now, my good 
 fellow, for their names." 
 
 " Oh ! 1 don t know em all, only some, but you ll read their 
 names on the dockyment." 
 
 " Ah ! did they all sign ?" 
 
 " Yes, they did." 
 
 " Let me see the paper. 
 
 The bearer of despatches produced a dirty half sheet of that 
 brown wiry paper, which, in sheets of enormous size, was of 
 most common use in those periods, and the major read as 
 follows : 
 
 " To Kurncl Sinkeler : 
 
 " Those, old Sinkeler, are to signify that ef you don t surrender 
 11 j> our friend and brother officer and sorlger, Leftenant Joel 
 Andrews sometimes called Hell-fire Dick, of his royal ma 
 jesty s regiment of loyal rangers, third company of foragerb, 
 we ll have your heart s blood out of your body, and thar shant 
 be stick or stone standing of your big house after we ve gone 
 through it. These is to say to you that you must give him up 
 
TFE FIRS J SHOT. 186 
 
 to the barrer of dispatches, in hafe an hour after you reado ; m, 
 or you may expeck the eternal vengeance of all consarned. 
 [Signed] " SAM BRYDONE [Skin-the- Serpent] 
 
 " RAPE BRUNSON [the Trailer}. 
 
 " JOE BEST. 
 
 " ZEKE RODGERS. 
 
 " JACK HALLIDAY. 
 
 WM. TOLAND. 
 
 " BENJ. NELSON." 
 
 Major Sinclair smiled quietly as he read the precious epistle 
 
 " And you say, Blodgit, that there are thirteen of these rascals 
 hi the woods ?" 
 
 " Thar s the names." 
 
 " Scoundrel ! Do you dare to lie to me, when I know that 
 there are but seven of them all told." 
 
 " Lord bless you, major, but thar s thirteen as I m a mortal 
 sinner." 
 
 " Didn t you tell me that all signed. Here are only seven 
 names." 
 
 " All .that could sign, major. Some kaint write." 
 
 The lie was prompt enough ; but Sinclair knew that all such 
 would have surely made their marks, the object of the writers 
 being to impress the garrison with their strength and numbers. 
 
 " Back to your fellows, and tell them, from me, that we are 
 ready for them were they twice their number ; and do y^u, 
 Blodgit, thank your stars that I do not have you hung up to a 
 swinging limb for bringing me such an impertinent paper." 
 
 " Lord, major, I couldn t help myself." 
 
 " I believe that; and did I riot so believe did I thmk you 
 came willingly, I should hang you up in five minutes. Be off 
 now while your skin is whole." 
 
 " But, major, they re most mighty determinate persons all on 
 cm mighty furrocious, and they ve got rifles and muskets, 
 and three mighty furrocious dogs you kaint stand up agin* 
 Vrn, with only one poor rifle and double barrel, and they ll not 
 let you git to close quarters." 
 
 Sinclair was pleased that Blodgit noted his armory. The 
 weapons had been studiously put in sight all, at least, that 
 
186 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 ou/ majoi desired lie should see. He smiled at the speech of 
 the other -- smiled scornfully and extending his arm, he 
 said i 
 
 " Be off, Master Blodgit \ and if you ll take my counsel you ll 
 take the back track as soon as these rascals shall come on. You 
 have no taste for fighting I know, and there are too many of 
 them to suffer you to share any of the plunder should they suc 
 ceed. Your share of the game will be its dangers only. Do not 
 suffer me to draw bead or blade upon you off, and say to those 
 who sent you, that we shall welcome them with wagon-whips if 
 they venture within these grounds." 
 
 Blodgit, with a wringing humility bowed himself out, and 
 under Benny s esc@rt mounted his nag and departed, the speed 
 of his horse being accelerated by a smart application of a 
 hickory, which Benny Bowlegs carried in his hand, very much 
 as a field-marshal carries baton or truncheon. 
 
 " De mean son ob a skunk ! And wha is we for do now, 
 Mass Major." 
 
 " Hither, Benny ! Have you got the boys below ?" 
 
 "All dere, sir, in de berry room wha Debbil Dick leff. 
 Dere s Bull-Head Daby, and Slick Sam, and Snub-Nose Martin, 
 ~nd Caesar Fogle, and Barney de fiddler, and two, tree more." 
 
 " Will they fight, Benny ?" 
 
 " Ef you only le eir see you and yer you, jest when de time 
 come for knock about, den he ll fight." 
 
 " We ll keep them then, for close quarters ! We have one 
 gun, at least, for each quarter of the house, and pistols for half- 
 a-dozen men. Let us now to our preparations, Benny. Call 
 up Little Peter." 
 
 Benny disappeared, and Willie Sinclair, muttering as he 
 went : 
 
 " We must seem to consult the old man, at all events," took 
 his way toward the apartment where the veteran was keeping 
 watch at the window he had undertaken to defend. Here, 
 brief Conference ensued between the two, in which the son made 
 i fuil report of what had taken place between himself and Blod 
 git, showed the insolent despatch which he had brought, listened 
 patiently to the fierce outbreak of the old aristocrat as he read 
 the document, and then patiently brought him back to the sub 
 
THE FIRST SHOT. 187 
 
 ject of the proposed defence. In doing this, our young major 
 whom the war had made a p( litician as well as partisan, adroitly 
 insinuated into the old man s mind all the plans which he had 
 himself formed, for the encounter with the marauders. The 
 veteran was easily imposed upon, and the son left him at his 
 post while he arranged the defence of the house. The negroes 
 were each planted at his post, arms assigned them for close 
 quarters where they wci-3 not known to be good shots and 
 few negroes are good shots and this done, and Benny Bowlegs 
 and Little Peter, and another fellow, being armed with fowling 
 pieces or rifles, Willie Sinclair hurried up to the chamber for a 
 conference with his sisters. 
 
 The upper rooms of the house commanded an extensive view of 
 the whole scene of operations, broken only by occasional clumps 
 of wood, and masses of forest. Before it stretched the avenue, 
 a noble colonnade of oaks and cedars on the right an open 
 field which had been planted in wheat, but which was now bare, 
 with here and there a pine sapling growing, three or four years 
 old. On the left of the avenue was the wood through which 
 " Dcbbil Dick" had already made his way, seeking a surer 
 cover in the thickets on the opposite side of the public road. 
 Immediately around the dwelling there was an open area of 
 less than twenty acres, the space only interrupted by kitchen 
 and out-houses. Below, and between the house and the woods 
 where the outlaws were now harbored, was the garden contain 
 ing some three acres, and near this, in fact adjoining, was the 
 poultry region a spot which, at another time, might have 
 been sufficiently attractive to our outlaws. But for the ambi 
 tious ideas of Dick of Tophet, the outlaws would probably have 
 been quite content with a general cleaning of the hen-roosts. 
 
 But to note all these parts of the enclosure required that the 
 four rooms of the upper story should all be occupied with vigilant 
 catchers. In each, accordingly, a negro or two, male or female, 
 /as assigned a station. To these, no arms were given. The 
 weapons, whether at close quarters or long shot, being more 
 available from below, in the second story. The hand to hand 
 conflict could only take place below, in or around the basement, 
 or upon the outer steps of the dwelling. The doors opening 
 upon them were now closed, and a couple of sturdy negroes as- 
 
188 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 signed to each. For a close struggle the weapons were ample 
 against so small a force as threatened. In addition to swords 
 and pistols, there were knives every negro carries his own, 
 adequate to .slaughtering a steer or hog, or slitting the weasand 
 of a buck; there were hatchets and clubs of hickory, and 
 even tongs and poker were put in convenient places, ready for 
 the hand-to-hand conflict. 
 
 " I have no notion that these things will be required, Carrie," 
 said Willie Sinclair, " for I hardly think that these ruffians will 
 be bold enough to make an assault now that they know I am 
 here. Still, they are desperate men, and the thing is possible 
 particularly if they have been drinking. As yet, too, their 
 chief leader, Devil Dick, has not appeared among them, and the 
 belief that he is still here and in custody, may work them up 
 to some audacious attempts. But I rather think that they will 
 confine themselves to long shots, and all of them, it is probable, 
 carry rifles. This requires that you should keep yourself and 
 Lottie away from the windows. The negroes can not be easily 
 seen, their black faces offering no such conspicuous contrast to the 
 darkened rooms, as yours and Lottie s would. Only see you that 
 the negroes do not neglect the watch. They can see an object 
 if moving, at thrice a rifle distance, and that will suffice to give 
 us time to guard against all approaches. Only do not be agi 
 tated or alarmed. There is no great danger none to you, my 
 dear, so long as Willie Sinclair can strike a stroke, or lift 
 an arm at all for your protection." 
 
 "Do I not know it, Willie ? As for the danger look at 
 me, Willie. Do I show fear ?" 
 
 "You are a brave girl worthy to be a soldier s wife! 
 and if you hear a trumpet, you may look boldly up the 
 avenue ; for Peyre St. Julien will certainly be here before sun 
 down." 
 
 Then it was that the lips of the young girl t.-embled, and she 
 said, putting her hand on her brother s wrist: 
 
 "But will he have his troop with him, Willie? Will the 
 outlaws not intercept him, and with their rifles, from under 
 cover " 
 
 " Never fear ! The sound of his bugle will be sufficient to 
 disperse them. Where s Lottie?" 
 
THE FIRST SHOT. 189 
 
 " In the blue chamber." 
 
 "Let us go to her. You must keep her witl you all the- 
 while. She may be tempted to show herself at the windows. 
 Lottie!" 
 
 The child came. 
 
 " Lie down here, Lottie. Cover up. Keep close, and don t 
 get up till sissy tells you. Will you lie down now for Brother 
 Willie, and cover up, and keep close, and don t show yourself 
 at the windows?" 
 
 " But Willie, I don t want to lie down. I don t want to sleep. 
 I want to hear. I won t go to the windows. I will sit down 
 with sissy. I know what you mean. There s going to be fight 
 ing among the soldiers ; and I can t lie down in the bed, Willie, 
 I can t, when there s to be fighting. I must sit up and hear ; 
 but I promise you, dear bubber Willie, that I won t go nigh the 
 windows." 
 
 " Let her sit with me, Willie. I ll answer for her. She shall 
 keep away from the windows. She has promised you." 
 
 " To be sure, Willie when I promise, you know." 
 
 He kissed the child ; Carrie threw her arms round his neck ; 
 then released him, and he hurried below ; and, passing from 
 room to room, he made all his preparations, and encouraged, by 
 his frequent presence, his motley forces. 
 
 One of these, our old acquaintance, Ben Bowlegs, he drew 
 uside from the rest. 
 
 " Ben," said be, " I am going to put you in position else 
 where. Take a pair of these pistols, and the short double-bar 
 relied gun. Our true danger is from the kitchen. If these out 
 laws make a rush and get behind it, they will cover any win 
 dow on this side of the house. You mustget to the kitchen and 
 hide yourself in the loft. There are two little windows in the 
 back of it which will enable you to prevent them from taking 
 shelter in that quarter. You must steal out and make your 
 way thither at once, with the weapons I have mentioned. The 
 post is so important that I would go there myself, but that I 
 must not leave the house. I must see that the people do their 
 duty here." 
 
 " Dat s sartinly de way, Major Willie. I bin t ink bout de 
 kitchen, mese f." 
 
190 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Quickly then, to your post, and before these fellows begin 
 to attack." 
 . " I gone, Major Willie ! I gone !" 
 
 And, snatching up gun and pistols, Benny Bowlegs rapidly 
 darted across the space of thirty yards, which separated the 
 kitchen from the dwelling. Thus, with all his precautions 
 taken, our major of dragoons ascended to the place where the 
 veteran was keeping watch, seated comfortably in his arm-chair, 
 his game leg upon its cushions, and two great horseman s pistols 
 in his clutches, with both muzzles ready to give tongues at the 
 half-opened window. His position also enabled him to com 
 mand one of the doors opening upon the central passage. 
 
 " I am not sure, sir," said the major, " that I have had quite 
 as much dinner as I desired." 
 
 " Not the worse for it, Willie, if your man Porgy be right in 
 his philosophy. But the things are unremoved. Fall to, if you 
 think proper." 
 
 " No ! I find it not so easy to eat now. Still that mutton 
 was very fine." 
 
 " Yes, but there is a proverb against cold mutton. Hack away 
 %t that tongue, which I can warrant. It is home cured." 
 
 " Ay, and of a quality to cure a man of absenteeism." 
 
 " Would it could cure you, Willie !" 
 
 " It will not just now, sir. By the way, sir, my friend Porgy 
 insists that the English proverb against cold mutton is all a 
 mistake of taste ; that mutton is really more preferable cold 
 than warm." 
 
 " Egad, I should have ventured the opinion long ago myself, 
 but that I never take ground against a proverb. I shall cer 
 tainly be pleased to know this Porgy. Can he fight as well as 
 philosophize ?" 
 
 " That is the most remarkable of his characteristics some 
 what in the teeth of a proverb also. He fights like a bull-dog, 
 and in action almost seems to lap blood. But he always pro 
 fesses a reluctance to go into action, and insists that nothing but 
 training has kept him all his life from showing a white feather 
 Come, sir, let me fill you a glass of this Madeira." 
 
 " Why not, Willie ? I confess to relishing my wine more to 
 day, than I have done any day within the last six months." 
 
THE FIRST SHOT. 19} 
 
 " What ! including the time of my Lord Rawdon s visit ?" 
 "Ah!" with a deep sigh ah! no! That was an exception. 
 
 I confess, Willie, that on that occasion I distinctly saw the Bottle 
 
 Reel. " 
 
 " That was a serious error, my dear father," said the son, with a 
 
 grave shake of the head, "in the case of so steady a loyalist." 
 " Get out, you varlet. Ha ! we are to have it." 
 A wild scream from the woods, a shot, and the rattling of glass in 
 
 the upper windows, silenced the conversation, and our major of 
 
 dragoons was instantly upon the alert. 
 
193 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 THE LEAGUER THE RELIEF. 
 
 PETE Blodgit, glad to get off without hurt or hinderance from 
 the Barony, whither he had gone only under compulsion of the 
 outlaws, rode with due speed to the thicket where they har 
 bored, and reported the ill success of his mission. The party 
 there, in the absence of Dick of Tophet, was led by Sam Bry- 
 done, otherwise Skin - the - Serpent. Brydone was a fellow not 
 very unlike his superior, possessing all his brutal and ruffianly 
 qualities but his merits only in degree. His cupidity was quite 
 as great, if not greater; and this passion sufficed to urge upon 
 him the assault of the Barony, where he calculated upon profit 
 able pickings, quite as much as his desire to extricate his prin 
 cipal from the captivity into which he had unwarily fallen. As 
 yet, the outlaws had no notion that Dick had escaped ; and 
 the plunder of the house was a desire that received an addi 
 tional impulse in their minds, from the hope to rescue their 
 comrade. They were encouraged by the report of Blodgit, as 
 to the feebleness of the garrison a single man, even though 
 so well known and greatly feared as Willie Sinclair, not being 
 regarded as likely to offer much resistance to a stout band of 
 seven old forayers. This was the real number of the outlaws, 
 not including Blodgit ; their increase of force being due to the 
 arrival of Zeke Rodgers, the fellow who owned the dogs, who 
 had brought with him besides three others, Halliday, Toland 
 and Nelson, all tories, whose taste for the regular service, under 
 his majesty s officers, had gradually given way to the passion 
 Lfor a more free and easy disposition of their time and persons. 
 They were, all of them, briefly speaking in the language of the 
 country, outlaws cattle - reivers, squatters, houseburners, and 
 plunderers unrestrained by any laws but those of force, and 
 
THE LEAGUER THE RELIEF. 193 
 
 rf jkless equally of all moral restraints, whether of God or of 
 ^society. They prepared at once for the assault of the Barony. 
 
 But they had no plans, no designs and simply calculated 
 to operate by sheer force of numbers, and the terrors which 
 they might inspire. 
 
 "You hear, boys," said Brydone, after Blodgit had made his 
 report " thar s but one white man we ve got to deal with 
 Willie Sinclair. He s h-11 to fight, we know, but what s one 
 man when we ve got the we pons ? Old Sinclair s too lame to 
 git out of his easy-chair, and the niggers ain t of no account, no 
 how, in a scrimmage. What s a rifle, a shot gun, and a few pup 
 py pistols? Not much ; when hyar, you see, thar s four on us 
 with rifles, and three with fowling-pieces. All we ve got to do 
 is smash the windows with a volley of buckshot from the guns, 
 and then let the men what fires make a rush and git across the 
 garden to the kitchen, and git into kivcr behind that. The 
 rifles kin watch doors and windows all the time. First, then, 
 we ll creep up, close as we kin, to the garden-fence, pull off 
 some of the palings, and steal up among the shrubs till we re 
 /iigh enough to blaze away. Then let drive at the windows, 
 all three on you, with the shot-guns ; then make a rush for the 
 kitchen, and the boys with the rifles will keep their beads rest 
 ing on door and window, so that any head that lifts to sight 
 you, shall draw a bullet. You hears 1 Does you all onder- 
 stand 1" 
 
 "All right, Sam," was the reply; and Halliday, Toland, and 
 Nelson, the men carrying fowling-pieces, prepared for the part 
 assigned them. 
 
 The rattling of the window-glass, shattered by the buckshot, 
 which had disturbed the hobanobbing of the veteran and his 
 son, indicated the performance of the first act in this simple 
 little drama. 
 
 It sent Willie Sinclair, with due haste, to the upper cham 
 bers. He was quite aware that, beyond the smashing of the 
 glass, there could be no d. -image done, unless his orders, that all 
 parties should keep in cover as he placed them, had been dis 
 obeyed. 
 
 This was not the ease. He found all safe, and Carrie Sin 
 clair seized his arm, as he entered the room, which had chiefly 
 
 9 
 
1 94 THE FOBAYERS. 
 
 Buffered from the shot her eye flashing, and no tremor on her 
 Tame. 
 
 " They have begun, Willie, and now ought we not to have some 
 weapons here? We could surely do something from this quar 
 ter, Willie." 
 
 " No, Carrie, dear ; there is no need to tax your valor. We 
 .mist only try your patience and endurance, no small part of the 
 iducation for a soldier and a soldier s wife. Only keep Lottie 
 ilosc to the floor, and keep as closely to the floor yourself as 
 jossible. We are quite enough for these fellows below, and 
 here we need all our weapons. But, hark !" 
 
 Pistol-shots were heard one two. 
 
 " That is Benny Bowlegs ! I looked for it there. Down, 
 Jarrie close, while I take a peep." 
 
 Glancing obliquely through the half-closed shutter, in the 
 direction of the garden, Willie suddenly raised the fowling- 
 piece which he grasped, and fired instantly. He was about to 
 discharge the second barrel, when he promptly drew back, and 
 clasping Carrie about the waist, drew her to the floor with him. 
 In another moment of time, a bullet passed between the shut 
 ters, and was buried in the angle of the opposite wall. 
 
 " You see, Carrie, you must keep close. These fellows watch 
 3very opening. Keep the negroes at the opposite windows. 
 There is no cover on that side for the approach of the rascals 
 within rifle distance. And now a kiss I must go below. 
 We have tickled some of the scamps, I am sure." 
 
 He went below, and forcibly rolled his father back from his 
 station at the window. In the anxiety of the veteran, he had 
 leaned forward upon the jambs, with his pistol cocked and 
 ready, and his game-leg upon the floor, the pillows upon which 
 it rested having slipped off in the eagerness of his movement. 
 He was groaning with pain, but, in his excitement, mentally 
 unconscious of its cause. 
 
 " What s done, Willie ? Oh ! I am hurt somewhere, Willie. 
 I feel the pain of a wound, but where it is, sir, I can not tell, by 
 Heaven !" 
 
 "In your foot, sir your pillow was shot off, sir, and your 
 game leg has got all the hurt." 
 
 " Ah ! so it is ! There ! there ! Don t touch it for your life, 
 
THE LEAGUER -r-THS REMfcF. 195 
 
 Harry! I never let any one but Carrie touch it! She gives 
 no pain. Call her down for a moment. Yon are too rough a 
 nurse." 
 
 Carrie appeared, replaced cushions and foot, and was again 
 driven up to the chamber. 
 
 " The girl is just as cool as an old soldier. She will make 
 soldier s wife, sir. Well, Willie, what has been done. There 
 were bhots from the kitchen, and above stairs? Did you fire?" 
 
 " Emptied one barrel of buck upon a fellow who was sneak 
 ing off among the box in the garden." 
 
 " Did you stretch him ?" 
 
 " I think so. I seldom miss ; and it could not be more than 
 sixty yards off. But my flash drew a rifle-shot upon the win 
 dow, and I dared not look." 
 
 " They are at the kitchen, are they ?" 
 
 " They have been ; but I suspect they have found the kitchen 
 fires too warm at this time of day. I sent Benny Bowlegs 
 there, well armed, to help the cook. They were his pistols that 
 we heard." 
 
 Benny is cool as a cucumber, and steady as a pine. He will 
 not waste gunpowder. Ha ! there is another volley. They 
 must have some dozen guns." 
 
 " These discharges are all from fowling-pieces." 
 
 " Don t I know that, sir ? But there would seem a dozen of 
 them." 
 
 4< Half the number, and double-barrels would give that fire 
 They have only broken a few more panes." 
 
 " The fools, to waste their ammunition." 
 
 " Their purpose is probably to make a rush for the house un- 
 -er the fire. I must look in upon the boys in the basement, and 
 give them a drink all round." 
 
 And, turning a silver mug doAvn upon the mouth of a decanter 
 of Jamaica, Willie Sinclair supplied the negroes keeping guard 
 in the great passage and below. 
 
 " Boys," he said to the latter, we ll have a drink all round, 
 that we may be better able to thrash these dirty rascals, should 
 they dare to come. I ll give you drink, and you ll give them 
 the devil. Benny Bowlegs, let me tell you, has already 
 knocked over half a dozen or more, and I have stretched out 
 
196 TEE FORAYERS. 
 
 as many. I m only afraid you ll have little or nothing to 
 do." 
 
 " Only le em come, maussa, da s all !" was the one response 
 of all, as they drank drank deep, as a negro knows how to 
 drink with head thrust out, lips trembling, and eyes alread} 
 moistened with delight. 
 
 " Wait for the word, boys, that s all !" 
 
 Then as they began to jabber loudly with each other, promis 
 ing and boasting of their future performances, our major stopped 
 them 
 
 " Shut up, boys. Barking dogs don t bite remember that 
 Would you give tongue before you ve got the scent 1 Not a 
 word now! Wait till I give the word wait till you see me 
 at work then take hold, and see that you make your teeth 
 meet in the flesh !" 
 
 "Le em come, young maussa da s all !" 
 
 And giving them a second sup of the bottle, enough to enli 
 ven their courage without enfeebling their strength, Willie Sin 
 clair hurried up-stairs witli the empty decanter. 
 
 " There s a lull in the storm, Willie." 
 
 " Ay, sir, the scamps are in consultation doubtless. They 
 have no head, sir ; though where that scoundrel, Devil Dick, 
 may be, it is difficult to conjecture. These fellows really have 
 no plans. They are of the class of bull-heads that simply 
 know how to rush and butt, and the moment they encounter a 
 wall, they slink off with their tails down. This is their oase 
 now. To give us a scare, and under cover of it, rush to As 
 assault, is all that they know how to do. They are like .^ 
 tiger disappointed in the first spring, they steal back into the 
 jungle." 
 
 " As the case stands, they may fire at us all day." 
 
 " They will hardly do that, sir ! Like the tiger again, they 
 will wait for night, and then comes our danger ! While we 
 have the light to see, they will hardly dare to expose them 
 selves in assault; but, with the darkness, we can do nothing but 
 watch at all the ports, and be prepared as well as we can for 
 the close encounter." 
 
 " Surely, Willie, we have nothing then to fear We can 
 certainly with our force overcome them." 
 
THE LEAGUER THE RELIEF 197 
 
 "A/, sir, butcher them! as by God s help we will! "mut 
 tered the other fiercely. -"But we must still lose in such a 
 conflict. To conquer these wretches is a very small source of 
 satisfaction ; but to know that one life, precious to our hearts, 
 has been sacrificed in doing so, is very terrible." 
 It is, Willie ; it is ; where are the girls now ?" 
 
 Up-stairs, sir, in safety !" 
 
 "Willie, my son, I should die of a broken heart it would 
 kill me, Willie, if one of these dear children suffered at the 
 hands of these outlaws!" 
 
 "Need I tell you, father, that my head must be low my 
 eyes shut my arm paralyzed before harm shall come to 
 them ! Were it not better, sir, that I should help you up-stairs, 
 sir, where you can have them under your own eye ?" 
 
 " What, Willie Sinclair, would you have me leave my post ?" 
 
 " We have enough here, sir; and T our foot !" 
 
 " D n the foot, sir ! What is the pain of the foot when the 
 soul is in agony ? No, sir ; no, Willie , here I stick, at my post, 
 ready for the enemy. I see what you fear, Willie ; but I do 
 not fear. You think me unequal to the struggle. But you 
 si i all see that a man with a brave spirit, is not less a man be 
 cause he has a crippled limb !" 
 
 Willie Sinclair laughed laughed merrily. 
 
 " You are right, sir, right. Only so use your pistols, as to 
 keep the rogues from your toes." 
 
 Some popping shots were now heard. Then a pause, and 
 after a little interval a volley. The glass was again shattered 
 this time directly above the head of the veteran and the 
 fragments tumbled about his ears in all directions. Had Willie 
 not drawn him away from the window-jambs, he would have 
 been peppered with small shot. 
 
 " Swan-shot as I live," said the major, gathering the bits of 
 lead about the floor. " This was delivered from the garden 
 What can Benny be about ? He could surely have touched the 
 i ascal in that quarter." 
 
 Just then a single shot was heard. 
 
 " Ah ! there, the old fellow speaks ! Well, sir, we must only 
 -.ait our time. We may have the close hug at nightfall." 
 
 the major hurried away to his several parties^above and 
 
198 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 below, to see that they were watchful. There was a lull in tk* 
 storm of nearly half an hour. The suspense became very irk 
 some to all parties. They could see no enemy dared not veil 
 hire to look out and had no knowledge of what had been 
 done. Suddenly, in the deepest hush, the faint sounds of a 
 bugle were heard. 
 
 " Ah !" cried Willie, " he comes at last. We shall now havti 
 a dash at these rascals." 
 
 " Who comes, Willie ?" 
 
 " Peyre St. Julien, at the head of as brave a captain s com 
 mand of troopers as ever drew broadsw r ord." 
 
 "St. Julien, ha! I would it had been anybody else! 
 growled the veteran. 
 
 " And why, sir ? Sc. Julien is as noble a fellow as ever 
 crossed charger in battlo." 
 
 " Ay, sir, but he is a -ebel to his king !" 
 
 " Why, so am I, sir !" 
 
 " True, and the greater my sorrow, Willie ; but I do not 
 relish these Frenchmen." 
 
 " Why, Lord bless you, sir, he s no more Frenchman than I 
 am !" 
 
 " He s the son of a Frenchman, sir, and he has an eye on 
 /our sister Carrie ; and I prefer that my daughter should not 
 marry any but a man of British stock." 
 
 In the impulse of the moment, the father had betrayed him 
 self, so as to reveal the true secret of the cold treatment which 
 St. Julien had always received at his hands. It was only by 
 reserve and coldness that he could repel the approaches of the 
 young man, who was not only of the best blood, but the best, 
 character of the country. Willie Sinclair was about to answer 
 with soi.io sharpness, for he was the sworn brother of St. Julien, 
 but a moment s reflecti* n satisfied him that he should rather 
 hurt than help his friend s cause, by entering into any argu 
 ment, or making any reply. The bugle again sounded, and he 
 disappeared in silence from the apartment. Hurrying up stairs, 
 ne encountered Carrie Sinclair in the passage. She too had 
 heard the bugle, and her cheek was flushed, and she now trem 
 bled, as she never for an instant had done during the whoift 
 leaguer of jhe nitlaws. Willie kissed her cheek, and putting 
 
THE LEAGUEIi THE RELIEF. 199 
 
 his arm about her waist, drew her to a window overlooking the 
 entrance by the avenue. At that moment, the whole train of 
 horsemen were wheeling into the enclosure, a gay and gallant 
 troop, their swords flashing in the evening sunlight, and the 
 bugler, at intervals, merrily timing their advance. At their 
 head rode a tall and noble captain, whose white plume floated 
 loftily above his helmet a single feather of the heron and 
 whose flashing sword was waved in the direction of the dwel 
 ling. 
 
 " Strange !" said Willie; " I wonder who leads, Carrie. It 
 is not St. Julien." 
 
 He mocked her, and she knew it ; and burying her face for 
 a moment in his bosom, she said : 
 
 " It is, Willie ! You can not deceive me !" 
 
 " Then he has grown stouter since I last saw him, and does 
 not carry himself with half the grace of former times." 
 
 " Fie ! you tease ! But I know you." 
 
 And now the strains of the bugle were long and loud ; and 
 Willie Sinclair, rushing down stairs, threw open the door of the 
 hall in season to welcome his companion-in-arms at the entrance. 
 Carrie, meanwhile, full of tremors, remained waiting in hei cL 
 ber. Little Lottie, not discouraged by her sister, had fi. 
 her brothei down the stairs. 
 
200 THE FOBAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 SCOURING THE WOODS. 
 
 
 
 BUT where, while these events were passing, was the fierce 
 and brutal outlaw, Dick of Tophet 1 One would think that, ir 
 an affair which he had begun, the leaguer of the Barony, and in 
 which he was so deeply interested, his presence would not be 
 wanting, nor would he have been but for the necessity of the 
 case, and because of the exercise of that degree of pnideii~. 
 essential to his own progress, which the old soldier is seldom- 
 persuaded to forget. 
 
 We have seen by what arts and what endurance of torture 
 he contrived to make his escape from his bonds. When he 
 emerged from the passage-way of the basement, the coast was 
 clear. Congaree Polly, who had been passing to and fro, was 
 now up-stairs busy spreading the table-cloth and setting plates 
 He could hear the clatter of these below, as she severally laid 
 them on the board. In the court nobody was to be seen but a 
 little group of negroes, and they saw him as he moved away 
 and shouted aloud, not in alarm, but with curiosity as at the 
 sight of any stranger ; but little negroes are for ever shouting 
 and squalling, and neither master nor cook gives much heed to 
 their clamors. Dick was more heedful and watched the urchins 
 r or awhile before moving watched the whole court, and that 
 with very dissatisfied expression. He could nowhere see his 
 horse which he had fastened to a neighboring tree. Good Benny 
 Bowlegs, old soldier that he was, had duly cared for the beast 
 governed by two reasons, first, the good feeling of sympathy which 
 lie always entertained for a stout, well-built dragoon horse, and 
 next, as he was one of the trophies of war, a part of the spolia 
 opima, which somehow usually occupies no small share of the 
 regards of all old soldiers. Dick c e Tophn* naturally conjee 
 
SCOURING THE WOODS. 201 
 
 tared that the beast was safely sheltered in the stables of the 
 oarony, and, no doubt, totally heedless of his master s condi 
 tion, munching comfortably upon his corn and fodder. Dick 
 groaned as he reflected upon his loss, but there was no present 
 remedy. 
 
 " Let me only git clear out of this fix," he muttered to him 
 self, " and I ll find the pay for him somehow out of this same 
 harry stocratic Sinclair." 
 
 He wasted no long time in idle lamentations. The horse was 
 gone, and if he desired to go also in safety, he must needs tramp 
 quickly and on his own legs. He looked out east and west, 
 north and south, shaped out his course in his mind, noted the 
 cover at which he was to strike, and darted forth upon his prog 
 ress. Again the little negroes yelled and shouted, and clapped 
 their hands and pointed with all their fingers, and rolled about 
 and threw up clouds of dust over their heads ; but they failed 
 to attract the attention of anybody whose policy it might be to 
 arrest the flight of the outlaw and he pushed forward accor 
 dingly, without giving them the slightest heed, but with the 
 savage mental determination to knock half a score of them on 
 the head should they happen to cross his path for a moment. 
 He had snatched up a carving-knife from the pile which Con- 
 garee Polly had laid down on a table in the lower passage pre- 
 Daratory to laying them out for dinner, and thus armed, he was 
 in the mood to do desperate things, whether with necessity or 
 not. 
 
 His coarse lay along the wood that skirted the lower line of 
 the avenue, but it required a progress of fully a hundred yards 
 over the open court before he could reach this shelter. To 
 strike a route directly below, would be to risk exposure to the 
 negroes whom he now felt sure were traversing the edges of the 
 forest, and along the fence which ran all along the lower line of 
 the settlement. The circuit which he proposed to make was 
 considerable, but it was the only one which promised him a re 
 treat without interruption, and such a retreat was essential in 
 his condition sore, scorched, suffering, and with scarcely a 
 weapon in his grasp. 
 
 Vory painful was his progress. In the first moment of his 
 incitement, after getting loose from hie bonds, he did not feel 
 
202 THE FORAYKUS- 
 
 so greatly the torture that he had undergone, ana which he had 
 endured with a patient fortitude which would not have dis 
 credited the ancient martyrology. In a better cause and nobler 
 career, it would have lifted the ruffian into heroism. But when 
 lie began to walk, and had fairly succeeded in obtaining the 
 partial woodland cover along the avenue, his sufferings began 
 to make themselves felt with no ordinary degree of acuteness 
 By this time, his back was one entire blister his hands and 
 wrists ; his feet and ankles all shared in the same sort of burn 
 ing torment, and he writhed at every ste[i over the hot sands, 
 and shrunk from every ray of the direct sun. He realized in 
 degree the pains of the march such as Milton s Satan was forced 
 to take when first recovering from the terrible conflict which 
 precipitated him from the celestial empire. He too walked 
 
 "With uneasy steps 
 Over the burning marie, .... 
 
 . . . ." And the torrid clime 
 Smote on him sore besides." 
 
 But still, like the fallen angel he endured and strode away, 
 writhing the while, and groaning nay sometimes swearing 
 most blasphemously, like the evil one to whom his fol 
 lowers compared him. Still he went forward. A thousand 
 times he felt like casting himself down upon the leaves anc 
 grass this was after he had got into the woods but then his 
 courage revived perhaps his fears and, suffering scalding 
 sensations at every step he plunged forward, slowly but cer 
 tainly increasing the distance between himself and his late 
 prison-house. He was unpursued that was something; had 
 it been otherwise, he would have given up the thought of flight, 
 and, in his desperation, would have welcomed the deadliest 
 struggle, only seeking to do as much mischief as he coul^ and 
 not ir any way to defend himself. He gained finally the en 
 trance of the avenue looked up and down the highway to see 
 that he was not pursued, then took the downward route, still in 
 the thicket, but still close beside the public road, not yet ven 
 turing to penetrate the deeper thickets where he felt sure that 
 his comrades harbored. 
 
 Thus moving, he ha 1 made a progress which was considerable 
 
-SCOURWCJ THE WOODS. 203 
 
 for one in his state of suffering, when lie heard or fancied that 
 he heard a distant shot. He stooped his ear to the ground and 
 listened. Again lie heard a shot two, three, or more. But 
 they seemed to be still below him, though greatly to the left, 
 and he thought it not improbable that Sinclair and the two armed 
 negroes had boldly penetrated the forests in pursuit of his com 
 rades. To get certainly in the rear of both parties, it was required 
 that he should still press directly downward, and not venture 
 in more deeply until the sounds of alarm should certainly arise 
 between himself and the Barony. With this policy, and stimu 
 lated by the intimations of strife to an eager desire to be at 
 work in the fray himself, he flourished his carving-knife, set his 
 teeth firmly, and hurried on as rapidly as his sufferings would 
 admit. He had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile further, or 
 more, when his ear caught other sounds which compelled a 
 halt and counselled concealment. 
 
 "A troop of horse !" he muttered, with an oath. "Who can 
 it be?" 
 
 He was at a loss to conjecture. 
 
 " Marion s men s t other side of the river. Inglehardt is up 
 the country. Harden, they say, has gone south. Who, in the 
 name of all the black devils, can it be 1 It may be some of the 
 Yahoos. " 
 
 The Yahoos were another tory banditti ; their name, with a 
 strange taste, self-chosen ; and not inappropriate, unless too in 
 nocently unmeaning. 
 
 But the doubt of Dick of Tophet did not interfere to retard 
 his own action. He hurried into a close thicket, sufficiently far 
 from the road to escape any glancing eye, yet near enough him 
 self to distinguish the approaching troopers. They came on at 
 a trot, and went by handsomely, a neat and trim array of forty- 
 five dragoons. 
 
 " Marion s men, by the powers ! St. Julien s squad. Now, 
 ef I kaint draw off them fellows in season, won t they catch it!" 
 
 Thus muttered the outlaw, as he gathered himself up, with 
 many growls and groans, and once more resumed his upright 
 position. He now struck diagonally across the wood, pushing 
 directly for the heart of the thicket where he supposed his com 
 rades to be, and whence the sound of the firearms had arisen 
 
204 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 But hardly had he gone fifty yards, when he encountered a 
 horseman directly in his track. He threw himself behind a 
 tree as the new-comer approached, and when the latter, who 
 seemed to be in a brown study, drew nigh, the outlaw stretched 
 out his arm suddenly and grasped the bridle of the steed. 
 
 " Hello ! thar ! Lord ! who s that ? Oh ! Fire Dick, is that 
 you?" 
 
 The horseman was no less a person than our old acquaint 
 ance, worthy Pete Blodgit. He had promptly adopted the 
 counsels of Willie Sinclair, at their last interview, and had 
 seized the first chance to withdraw from his connection with 
 the outlaws, which he did, without beat of drum, at the moment 
 when the band was preparing for the first assault upon the 
 house. They had not noticed his departure ; had they done so, 
 it is probable that they would have prevented it ; for, though 
 they made no sort of calculations upon him, in respect to the 
 fight, they knew how to use him in affairs which involved no 
 necessity for heroism. Pete knew perfectly well, that, in mere 
 wilfulness of power, they would have detained him, if once they 
 suspected him of any intention to depart. He modestly kept 
 his purpose secret, and stole off while they were pressing for 
 ward to their severally-assigned posts for the assault. He was 
 taken all aback confounded, by the way by an encounter 
 so totally unexpected with the outlaw, whom, all the while, he 
 supposed to be safely boxed up in the basement or the attic 
 of Sinclair s house. The ordinary terrors which this man s 
 presence inspired in his mind, were duly increased by the sud 
 den and unanticipated meeting with him, but still more by his 
 fierce, wild, and ghastly aspect. His face seemed blotched ami 
 bloated, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was a wolfish fierce 
 ness in his expression that denoted a great increase of his usu;; 
 savage ferocity of will. 
 
 " Lord ha mercy ! how you skear d me." 
 
 The other grinned horribly as he said : 
 
 " Git down, Pete." 
 
 " Git down, leftenant ! What must I get down for what s 
 you guine to do to me ?" 
 
 " frit down I T ain t a guine to hurt you I only wants the 
 horse." 
 
SCOURING THE WOODS. 205 
 
 " But it s my horse, Dick." 
 
 " Never mind ! I wants him." 
 
 "But you ain t a guine to take my critter?" 
 
 " Yes ! 1 must hev him, Pete. Git down." 
 
 " But, Dick, how kin I, when you knows I m a lame man, 
 and kain t git on, no how, without a critter. I kain t do eny 
 much travelling a-foot." 
 
 "And who the h I s more lame than me ?" was the fierce 
 answer of the other. " Don t you see I m burnt and scalded and 
 blistered up from head to foot, and all a-fighting your battles ?" 
 
 " Not any battles of mine, Dick," replied the other. " Twas 
 your own battles all the time, and I wasn t to have eny of the 
 good of it, I know/ 
 
 " Well, it don t much matter eny how. Thar s not much 
 good of it come to enybody, and ef I don t overhaul our fellows 
 and bring- em off at once, they won t make the smallest sort of 
 mouthful for St. Julien s dragoons. So git down, Pete, and 
 give me your horse." 
 
 " Well, but leftenant " 
 
 " Git down, I tell you." 
 
 " But how kin \ give up my horse 1 I m sure, leftenant, ef 
 vou takes him I ll never see him again. Let me go home quiet, 
 Dick." 
 
 " Look you, Blodgit, I kain t be a trifling with you one min 
 ute of waste of time. Why, to be sure, ef I takes him, you stand 
 a mighty fair chance of never seeing him agin. But what of 
 that. Do you think I cares what your loss may be, when the 
 needcessity is to save them good fellows that s in danger now 
 from St. Julien s troopers ! Git down, I say." 
 
 " I kain t give up my critter, Dick I kain t !" was the reply 
 of Blodgit, with an unusual show of determination, for him, and 
 he jerked the bridle of his beast as he spoke, and struck his heels 
 into his flanks, and would have been off without further parley 
 but for the firm grasp which the outlaw had laid upon the bridle 
 
 " You white livered lizard !" roared the outlaw ; " and while 
 I m a wasting time with your provications and prevarications, 
 them good fellows is a gitting themselves chopped up by the 
 dragoons !" 
 
 The words were seconded by the most decided action. The 
 
206 THE PORAYERS. 
 
 beast \vas reined bak upon his haunches in the twinkling of 
 an eye, and Pete Blodgit, pulled from his back with a gripe of 
 iron, fell prone upon the earth, heavily as a bag of sand. Foi 
 a moment the carving-knife of Devil Dick was flourished over 
 his head. 
 
 " Marcy, Dick ! hev marcy ! 
 
 " You mean-sperritted skunk, I ve hafe a mind to sculp yon 
 where you lies : but I ain t got time for it. But jist you wait 
 for it, tell I gits back, and ef I don t take off fcoulp and ears, it s 
 bekaise I ve got religion as I goes. Give me your blasted 
 horn ! Quick at> lightning." 
 
 The horn was delivered to the outlaw ; he wound it thrice, a 
 lively strain of alarm, then mounted the beast an effort that 
 made him groan pitifully, as it seemed to renew all the agonies 
 of the blazing fire at his back and ankles but he was capable 
 of the effort, though he groaned under it; was soon in the saddle, 
 and away back at full speed over the ground which Blodgit 
 had just before slowly overcome. At intervals, he wound his 
 horn as he rode j. a signal meant to awaken the apprehensions 
 of his associates, and draw them back in season for escape from 
 the troopers of St. Julien. We need not say that, nowise en 
 couraged by the promises held out to him, Blodgit resolved not 
 to wait one moment for the outlaw s return ; but, in some degree 
 forgetting his own lameness, he gathered himself up as soon as 
 the other had ridden off, and took his way down the wood with a 
 degree of rapidity which would have been highly creditable to 
 an ordinary man in the full possession of all his limbs and sinews. 
 
 Let us return to the Barony. We have seen that Sinclair 
 received his friend St. Julien at the entrance of the mansion ; 
 but he did not then suffer him to alight. 
 
 " Don t dismount, St. Julien. There s work for us yet. 
 Keep your saddle and put your men on the alert. Ho ! there ; 
 my horse ! We have beei beleaguered. Didn t you hear the 
 firing?" 
 
 "No! The wind was from us. How beleaguered? By 
 whom?" 
 
 " I ll tell you as we ride. Meanwhile, send down some 
 *went} men through the avenue, to make a circuit of a milo 
 below, and dasli in upon yonder wood. The outlaws, some 
 
SCOURING THE WOODS. 207 
 
 half a dozen or more ivcre there half an hour ago. They 
 are well mounted, but we may overhaul them. We will take 
 a short cut over the fences, and strike at them directly in front. 
 My horse ! my horse, there !" 
 
 " Our beasts are pretty well knocked up, Willie," was the 
 answer. 
 
 "Oh! they will do they will do! But whether knocked 
 up or not, we must brush that wood before dark. We have 
 had Hell-fire Dick and his gang upon us." 
 
 1 Ha ! I thought that scoundrel was in Inglehardt s troop, and 
 up the country." 
 
 " No ! no ! and Inglehardt s troop is not up the country, I 
 fancy at least, I have pretty good intelligence that he him 
 self is somewhere about Orangeburg. Have you had any ad 
 venture to-day ?" 
 
 " Slashed to pieces a body of tne Yahoos, some fourteen in 
 number, near the mill, on the Four-Holes, only a few miles 
 below Bram s Castle." 
 
 " Ha ! but they had not found him out ?" 
 " Not that we know ; but they were coining out of the swamp 
 when we surprised them." 
 "And where s Brain? 
 
 " He will be here to-night with your luggage, under the 
 charge of Corporal Grayson, with half a-dozen troopers." 
 " You got all the papers." 
 "All!" 
 
 There was some other conversation, until the horse of Sin 
 clair was brought out, all properly caparisoned by Benny Bow- 
 legs. That faithful fellow also appeared, soon after his master 
 was mounted, astride the steed which had been taken from 
 " Devil Dick." St. Julien looked at the negro doubtfully, but 
 Sinclair said, "Let him ride with us. He knows the wood, and 
 may be useful." The little squad, meanwhile, had been de 
 tached, according to Sinclair s orders, and had already passed 
 through the avenue, into the main road, for the purpose of making 
 a circuit and taking the outlaws in the rear. In a few moments 
 more, the troop of St. Julien, under the two chiefs, were break 
 ing through the fence behind the garden, and dashing 
 into the woods in which the outlaws harbored. 
 
208 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 TLe time allowed Dick of Topliet in warning his comrades 
 of their danger would not have been adequate to the purpose, 
 if they had not themselves taken the alarm, long before the ar 
 rival of St. Julien. He met them on the retreat, and a few mo 
 ments sufficed for explanation." 
 
 " We draw d off," said Sam Brydone, who, in the absence of 
 Dick, had taken the command, " bekaise we seed there was no 
 sort of use trying to do anything before night." 
 
 "And where s all your men. You got Zeke Rodgers, didn t 
 you. I heerd his dogs." 
 
 " Yes, we got him, to his misfortin . Thar s his dogs ; but 
 he aiut fit for nothing better than dog s meat now. He got a 
 hurt iii the first rush we made to git behind the kitchen, and he 
 aint ?o much as hollered since. Bill Toland, too, he came up 
 with Zeke, and he s got more lead in his swallow than he could 
 quite force down. Here s Jack, too, got scraped by a handful 
 of buckshot, I m a-thinking, but tain t much. It s jest barked 
 him about the shoulders." 
 
 " And whar s Joe Best V 
 
 "He s coming on behind slow enough. He s got to walk 
 his critter all the way, since he s pretty much doubled up with 
 a load somewhere about his hips, and has to lie down pretty 
 much on his horse. Ef he tries to trot or canter he falls into a 
 faint." 
 
 " Then they 11 take him, by thunder, and that s next to 
 roping him, I m thinking." 
 
 " Twon t take much to finish him." 
 
 " Well, you kain t stop for him or anybody," cried Dick 
 of Tophet. " Ef I know Willie Sinclair, he ll hev that troop 
 of St. Julien s scattered about these woods before you kin say 
 Jack Robinson ! We must put out as fast as any four legs can 
 go it. We ve got the heels of them, and can keep ahead of St. 
 Julien, ef we choose, for though he did put his troop into a trot, 
 when he got in sight of the Barony jist, I suppose to show off 
 yet I could see there was no heart in the legs of any of his 
 beasts to make em willing. We must ride now, ef we would 
 be able to have a feeling for a hot supper anywhere to-night." 
 
 " But I promised to go slow for poor Joe Best." 
 
 " We kain t afford it, though he was a better man than Best,*" 
 
SCOURING THE WOODS. 209 
 
 growled the savage Dick, with a sort of humor that spontane 
 ously presents itself where a person s name is naturally so sug 
 gestive. " Joe must take his chance, and we must use ours. I 
 tell you we ve got nothing to spare. We must go at a gallop, 
 ef we would make the river fur enough below, before night 
 comes. The night and the river swamp is our hope just now. 
 Joe must take his chainces. It s a part of the contract in a 
 scrimmage." 
 
 Scoundrels are always selfish of necessity since it is in sel 
 fishness that scoundrelism always has its birth ; and the reluc 
 tance of the party to leave their wounded comrade was quickly 
 overcome. 
 
 " But whar s Nelson ?" demanded Brydone, looking round 
 the party. No one could answer. 
 
 "He s missing!" 
 
 " That s a sufficient report just now. Ef he kaint find him 
 self, he kaint blame us for not finding him. Spur up, boys 
 no stop for thinking." 
 
 " Are you wounded yourself, Dick ? You rides as ef you 
 was hurt." 
 
 " Ax my back ? Look at it, and then drive the spur harder 
 than ever, sence that ought to warn you what may happen to 
 you all, ef you re taken." 
 
 " H-ll ! you don t say they roasted you ?" cried Brydono, as 
 he saw the condition of the other s back at a glance. 
 
 " On rid-hot coals, bars of red iron, and a blazing fire at 
 hands and feet ! Won t I hev my revenge for it all ! Spur 
 up, fellows. I mustn t be cotched jest yit. I ve got to live 
 long enough to roast every critter in that Sinclair Bairony- 
 the cursed infernal harrystocrats !" 
 
 Let us leave them as they fly down the country at full speed, 
 and obliquing in the direction of the Santee swamp. The pur 
 suit was hotly commenced by Sinclair and St. Julien. They 
 divided the squadron, and scattered themselves over the wood. 
 Fast they rode, and far they rode that is to say, as fast and as 
 far .-is was consistent with a close search, and the jaded condi 
 tion of their horses. The squad of St. Julien, after awhile, fell 
 in with the wounded outlaw, Joe Best. As he heard their ap 
 proach, he put the spurs to his horse in the hope to make off, 
 
210 THE FORAYEItS. 
 
 but the first plunge forward of the steed subjected him to so 
 much agony, that lie drew up and checked the beast as sud 
 denly. The ruffian felt liis danger he knew his fate. He 
 was well known to all the men of Marion, and he had been long 
 since outlawed. He drew a pistol from his holsters, and pre 
 pared himself for the coming up of his pursuers. When they 
 drew nigh, he fired, and the sword-arm of a common trooper fell 
 powerless at his side, just as he was about to cut the ruffian 
 down.- But he could not escape. Half a-score of men were 
 within call of the wounded man, and the report of the pistol 
 brought them up, with St. Julien at their head. At this moment, 
 whether becaiise of his pains or his policy, Joe Best dropped 
 from his horse. The animal was caught in a moment horses 
 being in even greater demand than men, among the southern 
 partisans and Best himself was secured in the twinkling of an 
 eye. A couple of dragoons dismounted, and laid hands on bin* 
 He lifted the emptied pistol with a feeble arm, and his o/es 
 glared savagely upon his assailants. It was evident that the 
 loss of strength implied no loss of sense or intelligence. 
 
 " Who is he ? Do you know him 1" asked St. Julien. 
 
 " An old scamp," was the reply " no other than Joe 
 Best, who burnt Mother Baldrick s house, and carried off Hoi- 
 man s horses." 
 
 " Cloud !" called St. Julien and as the trooper so called 
 rode up, the captain said : "search him, Cloud, and bring to 
 me what he may have about him. You know what to do with 
 him." 
 
 And thus speaking, St. Julien rode away, followed by all 
 but Cloud and another. These remained with the wounded 
 outlaw. Cloud had dismounted. He now uncoiled a dozen 
 yards of the rope from his saddle, and approached the wounded 
 man. 
 
 " What are you guine to do ?" demanded Best, " needn t tie 
 a wounded man like me. I m your prisoner." 
 
 " We don t want prisoners," was the reply. " Search him, 
 Parler!" 
 
 The pockets of the outlaw were soon emptied, but they re 
 vealed little. 
 
 " Have you anything to say ?" asked Cloud. 
 
SCOURING THE WOODS 211 
 
 " To say ! What shonld I say ?" replied the outlaw, looking 
 dubiously. 
 
 " I thought you might have some confession to make ; but if 
 you haven t, better sny your prayers, quickly." 
 
 "My prayers ! Why, do you mean to kill me without any 
 hial ?" The prisoner s voice grew husky. 
 
 "You have been tried long ago, and condemned. Be quick 
 You re to die now. If you have any prayers to say, the sooner 
 you set about it the better." 
 
 " You re in airnest, air you ?" demanded the outlaw. 
 
 " Yes ! Have to be ! Say your prayers." 
 
 " I kaint, and I wont ! Ef I m to hang, why I kaint help 
 it. Do your d dest !" 
 
 In live minutes after, the miserable wretch was convulsively 
 shivering from a swinging limb of the forest, arid Cloud and his 
 companion were riding briskly off to join their comrades 
 
212 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A DASH OF SENTIMENT AS PREPARATIVE FOR SUPPER. 
 
 THE farther pursuit of the outlaws was unsuccessful. Night 
 had fallen, however, ere the bugles of St. Julien recalled tho 
 pursuing party. The search had sufficed, at all events, to 
 expel the robbers from the immediate neighborhood : and this 
 was all that could be done under the circumstances. Had the 
 troop of St. Julien not been utterly fagged out by a long day s 
 hard riding, they would probably have destroyed the whole of 
 the banditti. They were all well mounted, on fleet horses; 
 and in this particular arm of the service the Americans had 
 greatly the advantage of the British. There was no finer cav 
 alry in the world than that of the partisans. Their prepon 
 derating strength, in this respect, was the secret of all their 
 successes. 
 
 It was at the bottom of the garden of the Barony, that the 
 officers held their rendezvous, and that the several reports of 
 their lieutenants were made. Here they found the bodies of 
 two of the outlaws who had been slain, one by the pistol of 
 .Benny Bowlegs behind the kitchen, the other by Willie Sin 
 clair s buckshot, from the dwelling. The two victims were 
 Zeke Rodgers and Bill Toland. They were both quite dead 
 when the troopers came up, and were hastily buried by the 
 negroes, in the neighboring woods. The robbers had thus lost 
 three of their gang slain outright no small assessment upon 
 their small capital of strength. Besides tke scorchings, self- 
 bestowed, of Dick of Tophet, Jack Halliday had been sorely 
 wounded, and Ben Nelson was still missing. Whether wound 
 ed or not, he had escaped the search of the dragoons. 
 
 " We can do nothing more to-night, Peyre," said the major, 
 * and the rest of these rascals will be beyond pursuit by morn 
 
A DASH OF SENTIMENT. 213 
 
 ing. At all events, they have had a taste of trouble which will 
 make them somewhat more cautious. Let us now go to the 
 house, and see after some supper I suppose your fellows have 
 an appetite." 
 
 "Are all well, Sinclair?" 
 
 " All but my father ; and his gout leaves him never wholly 
 well. The excitement of this affair has rather helped him. He 
 actually took post with sword and pistol at one of the entrances,, 
 with all the eagerness of a young soldier on his first campaign." 
 
 " I take for granted, Sinclair, that his love for me has not 
 undergone any great increase." 
 
 "No, Peyre, answered the other, with a laugh "he still 
 holds both of us as rebels to his sovereign. This one objection 
 waived, and, I fancy, there is no other more serious offence in 
 either of us. And, for our objects, we must wait events, and 
 bear ourselves patiently. You may find him querulous and 
 cold, Peyre, but for my sake, do not notice anything of the 
 sort. He is old, remember, a bigoted loyalist, and " 
 
 " Nay, Sinclair, it needs not ! I am quite well aware of 
 what is due to him, by way of allowance ; and for her sake, if 
 not yours and my own, I shall be even submissive. You know 
 I am very meek of temper." 
 
 "Of manner, at all events, Peyre, and that is all that is 
 needed in this case. But give your orders. Let your men 
 bivouac along the avenue, or, if you please, on the edge of the 
 wood." 
 
 We need not note the disposition of the troop, but will accom 
 pany the two officers to the dwelling. Here they found every 
 room alight. The parlor was ready for the reception of com 
 pany, and the servants were busy in spreading a doubly table 
 in the supper-room. Colonel Sinclair had had himself wheeled 
 into the parlor, and sat in state fronting the entrance, with his 
 favorite leg resting upon a cushioned stool. Lottie was playing 
 in the piazza, and eagerly looking out for the approach of the 
 dragoons, their returning bugles having been heard some time 
 before. Carrie, meanwhile, was in her chamber, making cer 
 tain preparations which showed her nut more unmindful than 
 any other of her sex, in respect to the appearance which she 
 should make before her guests, one of whom, we are to remerc 
 
214 .THE FORAYER3. 
 
 ber, was her lover. Though one of the least affected, least 
 coquettish, least vain, of all the damsels of our acquaintance 
 and at no time very solicitous about personal display yet, on 
 this occasion, Carry was somewhat hard to please in the adjust 
 ment of her toilet. When she did appear, it was in very simple 
 fashion, it is true : in a light robe of blue, suitable for midsum 
 mer, her hair arranged, as was then the style, in tresses termi 
 nating in ringlets on her shoulder, and a single white, flower 
 resting upon her bosom. She was very lovely in this simple 
 habit, which suited her style of beauty exactly a fair, well- 
 formed Saxon face, with soft brown hair, a complexion of bril 
 liant white and red, large, deep blue eyes, and an eager buoy 
 ant expression of countenance showing a frank nature, and a 
 generous, impulsive soul. 
 
 The old man was impatient of her delay. He conjectured 
 what engaged her in her chamber so long, and was divided in 
 his humors in respect to her supposed employment. No one 
 had mor< r i-ide in his daughter than Colonel Sinclair no one 
 could more have desired that she should appear to advantage 
 and had the expected guests been Lord Rawdon and hi.s 
 suite, the imperious baron would have insisted upon all proper 
 feminine preparations. But he was not so well pleased to think 
 that all her painstaking was to be wasted on the eyes of a rebel- 
 captain and his troop that captain being, as he phrased it, the 
 son of one of " those frog-eating Frenchmen of Craven county !" 
 Knowing that St. Julien had a penchant for his daughter for 
 there is a past history of their intimacy which we must leave 
 our readers to gather from the context- and half-fearing and 
 suspecting that Carrie rather favored than discouraged the ad 
 dresses of the young man, and that Willie Sinclair had been his 
 fast friend always, any preparation of his daughter, for the re 
 ception of the unwelcome guest, would have been thought too 
 great an expenditure of consideration upon him. Not that old 
 Sinclair knew anything unfavorable of Peyre St. Julien. On 
 the contrary, he had every reason to believe that he was a man 
 of honor, as he was known to be a gentleman. But he was a 
 rebel; and that was a sufficient reason at a moment, certainly, 
 when rebellion was supposed not to be a thriving entei prise, 
 and the old man entertained, besides, a hearty old English 
 
A DASH OF SENTIMENT. 215 
 
 prejudice, then not uncommon in this country, against all of 
 Gallic origin. Willie Sinclair had more than once battled this 
 prejudice in behalf of his friend ; but irjt, indeed, with any ref 
 erence to the desires of the latter for the hand of his sister. 
 He well knew that the time was not yet come for the discussion 
 of this object, and that nothing certainly could be effected in 
 behalf of his friend s suit while the event of the war was doubt 
 ful. 
 
 "But," as he said to St. Julien, " as marriage just now would 
 be totally out of the question, there is no need that we should 
 be precipitate. We must both wait, Peyre, for a calmer season. 
 War leaves no opportunity, and but little time for love !" 
 
 And, to this suggestion, Peyre St. Julien assented. He was 
 a lover, and a fond one ; but he was one of those me-n whose 
 resolves are only strengthened by delay ; whom opposition 
 only arms with determination, and whenever suffer themselves 
 to lose a game, by the precipitate desire for its profits. Besides, 
 he had his securities, and in these lay a certain amount of con 
 solation. Carrie Sinclair s eyes had answered to his own suffi 
 ciently ; and he knew enough of her nature to know that she 
 was as firm and tenacious of character, as she was frank and 
 generous of soul. His confidence in her faith, though declared 
 only by her eyes, left him in no apprehension of any capricious 
 change in her sympathies. 
 
 At length, the troop filing into the avenue made their appear 
 ance. 
 
 "Here they come, papa! Here they come!" cried Lottie. 
 " Look what handsome horses ! See how they ride ! And 
 here comes Bubber Willie and Captain Peyre !" 
 
 And the little girl danced and clapped her hands, and ran to 
 and fro, between parlor and piazza, until the two officers were 
 seen ascending the steps. Then she darted out, and soon 
 shared in the caresses of both alternately, St. Julien bringing 
 her into the parlor on his shoulder. He set her down gently 
 with a kiss, approached the colonel, and, bowing respectfully, 
 he offered him his hand in silence. 
 
 The other took it civilly, not cordially, as he said : 
 
 " Glad to see you, sir; glad to see you. You came seasona 
 bly to our relief; many thanks, sir, many thanks; though, I 
 
216 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 fancy, these rascals of banditti had already received a sufficient 
 dressing at our hands to make them sheer off. In fact they 
 were gone in full letr eat, sir before you made your appear 
 ance." 
 
 " They had certainly no motive to remain, sir," was the quiet 
 and gentlemanly reply of St. Julien. 
 
 " Ay," cried Willie Sinclair, " they got more than they came 
 for ; two men slain outright, and others no doubt wounded, they 
 paid heavily for their enterprise. But their very losses were 
 calculated to stimulate their ferocity. What I dreaded was the 
 approach of night, when they could have made a rush upon us 
 from all the points of the compass at the same moment, and 
 when our fire could have had but little effect in preventing their 
 approach." 
 
 " But what had we to fear from a hand-to-hand contest, with 
 fifty negroes in the house ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I do not doubt, sir, that we should have beaten the 
 rascals off butchered them all, perhaps nay, I m pretty sure 
 we should have done so but I confess that the mere victory 
 over such rapscallions, at the expense of any precious lives 
 nay, at the cost of one poor negro in the conflict held forth 
 but little temptation in rny eyes. I rejoice that the coming of 
 St. Julien has given us security against this danger." 
 
 " So it has!" exclaimed Colonel Sinclair his sense of justice 
 prevailing "so it has, Mr. St. Julien" he could not bring 
 himself to accord the military title to a rebel captain "and I 
 thank you, sir, for your presence. I am glad to see you here, sir." 
 
 This was said rather stiffly ; but it was honestly said. Our 
 baron was a man of prejudices, but, give him breathing-time, 
 and his conscientiousness always prevailed over his prejudices. 
 
 At this moment Carrie Sinclair appeared. The guest rose to 
 meet her. Their hands met. In those days, the lady of the 
 house always gave her hand to the visiter when he was of the 
 same rank. In all other cases she simply bowed, and in such a 
 way as to discourage any closer approach. The case is some 
 what altered now, and the discrimination between the two 
 ilasses, though still, in most respects, observed in the cities, is 
 apt to be overlooked in the country. We are sorry for it. The 
 distinction is a proper one, where ladies are concerned. The 
 
A DASH OF SENTIMENT. 217 
 
 failure to observe it, is apt to encourage the inferior to aspira 
 tions which end only in his mortification. 
 
 Colonel Sinclair s eye watched the meeting of the parties 
 with some interest. But he saw nothing to offend him. The 
 manner of St. Julien was calm and respectful nay, seemingly 
 cold. That of Carrie was easy, self-possessed, and quiet, and 
 she seated herself near her brother. One word in respect to 
 the personal appearance of St. Julien. He was of middle size 
 for our country some live feet eight inches high, well made, 
 but slender, of good muscle, of lithe frame, and vigorous muscle. 
 His face was pale, his eye black, large, and vigilant, his hair 
 of the same color, worn long, probably as much because of the 
 want of a barber, as his own taste. It hung down upon his 
 back, and was soft and fine ; his nose was aquiline, his mouth 
 well formed, and showing very white teeth. His brow was 
 lofty and full, the eyebrows black and thick. His air was that 
 of a well-bred gentleman, very quiet, simple, and unobtrusive. 
 In a word, he was one of those happy temperaments whom you 
 never take by surprise. Yet he was a man of warm feelings, and 
 even violent passions. 
 
 " You have ridden far to-day, Mr. St. Julien." 
 
 " Some forty-four miles, sir ; but our troop would not have so 
 much felt the ride, had it not been for a little brush with a 
 body of Yahoos, near the Four-Holes." 
 
 " I hope you demolished those wretches utterly." 
 
 " We did something toward it, sir." 
 
 There was a pause. At length the veteran resumed : 
 
 " I do not know what the peaceable inhabitants of the coun 
 try are to do, with these squads of banditti roaming about the 
 forests. Nobody is secure. Their object is plunder only. 
 This wretched rebellion has deprived us of all our securities." 
 
 This was an ungenerous speech, considering who were his 
 guests. It was, however, by no means a deliberate offence, on 
 the part of our loyalist baron. It was simply his ordinary 
 reflection. A slight smile on the lips of St. Julien, found its 
 interpretation from the tongue of Willie Sinclair, who said 
 quickly : 
 
 " It so happens, father, that all these rascals, Scophilites, Ya 
 hoos, foragers, tories, by whatever name they may be called, 
 
 
 
218 TUB FORAYERS. 
 
 are all in the king s commission. They all claim, with yourself 
 to fee busy in the work of putting down rebellion." 
 
 " Well, sir, does it make anything against the authority thai 
 the agent should abuse the trust ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, when the authority knows perfectly the sort of 
 agent which it chooses. The Scophilites and Yahoos, sir, were 
 notorious long before the beginning of this war." 
 
 " Well, sir, even allowing this to be quite true, yet, in a re 
 bellion such as this, which finds a whole people ungrateful, I 
 hold that the king has a perfect right to subsidize any agent." 
 
 " If I concede what you claim, my dear father which I do 
 not it necessarily follows that nobody has a right to complain 
 that the rascal, endowed with a trust, continues to be a rascal, 
 in spite of the king s commission. You, in particular, who pro 
 fess to believe that George of England can do no wrong, must 
 quiet all those murmurs which resent the civilities of George s 
 agents." 
 
 " Sir, I will be obliged to you if you will speak in more re 
 spectful language of our king." 
 
 "No king of mine, sir; but I am willing to defer to your 
 wishes. I wish to speak of him as little as possible, and would 
 you suffer it, sir, should gladly forbear this class of subjects. I 
 find it more pleasant to think of the good cheer I had to-day. 
 What had you for dinner to-day, St Julien ?" 
 " Hope of supper to-night, major." 
 
 " What ! no dinner, Mr. St. Julien ?" cried the old man. 
 " Carrie, do see that supper is not a moment delayed. Sir, you 
 shall have supper, with as hearty a welcome as if you were not 
 a rebel." 
 
 " My stomach is a loyal one, at least, colonel," was the quiet 
 reply of St. Julien. Carrie Sinclair had disappeared. 
 
 Not to talk of- the war was scarcely possible. There was no 
 other topic. The necessity of running into it was unavoidable, 
 and, with the best intention of forbearance in the world, our 
 baron soon after found himself talking of Lord Rawdon and 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald. 
 
 " Have you met with Lord Edward, Mr. St. Julien ?" he asked 
 jf his guest. 
 
 " I have not had that honor, colonel ?" 
 
A DASH OF SENTIMENT. 219 
 
 " You will be delighted with him. He is a fine looking fellow 
 , iarkly handsome, with fine eyes, and a peculiar mouth. He is 
 as noble, as handsome, sir ; a very noble fellow ; all ardor and 
 impulse, and capable of the very highest heroism. I should be 
 sorry that you should meet as enemies, Mr. St. Julien " 
 
 " And why, sir ?" demanded Willie Sinclair, with some little 
 pique. " I, for one, as the friend of Peyre St. Julien would 
 have no dread of the result in an encounter." 
 
 This speecli taught the veteran the doubtful character of his 
 own remark. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. St. Julien, I did not mean that ; I have no doubt 
 you would do your duty, sir ; and I am far from venturing an 
 opinion as to the result of a conflict between you." 
 
 " I take that for granted, Col. Sinclair." 
 
 " Sir, you only do me justice. But I will say no more. It 
 seems impossible to escape a blunder, the moment we happen to 
 speak of any of the parties in this accursed war. Sir, will you 
 not agree with me to damn this war ? I say, sir damn this 
 war ! This most abominable, unnatural war, which will not 
 suffer a gentleman to declare his honest natural sentiments 
 Sir Mr. Julien, be pleased to say damn this war." 
 
 "With great pleasure, Col. Sinclair damn this war!" 
 
 " And I echo the sentiment," cried Willie, " D n this war ! 
 let me add, sir, an amendment " to his father, " andd n 
 the inventors of it !" 
 
 " And who do you call the inventors of it, sir ?" demanded 
 the old man sharply. 
 
 " Ah ! sir "? into that question we need not inquire. You will 
 have one notion, I another. It matters not, sir, who is right, 
 the war being unnatural and abominable, I ask of you to 
 say d n the inventors of it !" 
 
 " Well, sir, I do, believing them to be your infernal Congress 
 and " 
 
 " No more, sir, you have already said a syllable or two too 
 much. You old gentlemen presume a little upon your years to 
 be a-talking, sir; you know not when to stop. I will not imitate 
 you, since my purpose is not to provoke an interminable dis 
 pute. The moment that gentlemen learn the fact that opinions 
 among the party are diametrically opposite on one subject, they 
 
220 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 have but one rule, and that is to refrain, unless their object is t: 
 provoke a quarrel. Now sir, your object is not to provoke *>. 
 quarrel, since I am your son, and can not fight you, and Capt. St 
 Julien being your guest, y DU can not fight him. We must accord 
 ingly steer clear of politics, and, by the way, sir, talking of Sir 
 Edward Fitzgerald, did he tell you, sir, that he is engaged to be 
 married to a Miss Sandford, a lady of great beauty and wit, with 
 whom he so flirted, just before coming to America, at the castle of 
 Lord Shannon, that, the story goes in Charleston, she is about 
 to follow him to this country !" 
 
 The colonel raised his eyebrows in consternation. 
 
 " Engaged ! Impossible ! How should you know what is 
 the talk in Charleston." 
 
 " I ought to. know. I have been in that goodly city within 
 the last few days !" 
 
 " Ha ! there is treachery at work then ! Say, sir, by whom 
 were you sheltered there, and what was your object?" 
 
 " My object is briefly told. I wished to select house and 
 grounds for my summer residence, after the evacuation, and 
 they can be procured at small cost when that event occurs. I 
 wished to put my agent on the alert, so that I may not lose the 
 season. As to the person who sheltered me, 1 have only to 
 say it was a fair lady ; gallantry can concede no more, and 
 courtesy will not ask so much. In regard to the treachery, sir, 
 do you not see that any talk on this hand will bring us back to 
 the forbidden subject. In your loyalty, sir, you must not lose 
 sight of what is due to the gentleman." 
 
 "Did you ever hear such an impertinent son, Mr. St. Julien? 
 But he is right, after a fashion of his own. I am too old a subject 
 of the king, Mr. St. Julien, not to forget, in my zeal, sometimes, 
 what is due to the company. Pray pardon it. In respect to 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald , my son, I don t believe a word of 
 your report. I fancy it is a fabrication of your own, and that 
 you have not been in Charleston." 
 
 " Ay, but I have, sir." 
 
 " Why, sir, do you not know that you incur the peril of the 
 gallows." 
 
 " I am not alone, sir; the thing is frequent." 
 
 You are bold, sir. But of this report of Lord Edward." 
 
A DASH OP SENTIMENT. 221 
 
 " It is the report. The fact is, sir, tliat the good ladies of 
 Charleston speak of Lord Edward as something of a flirt a 
 young cavalier of very flexible affections who finds a new 
 flame wherever he goes." 
 
 " What a slander The young man, when here, seemed ra 
 ther demure than otherwise. I confess he was very attentive 
 to Carrie, but without any seeming purpose of display. He 
 was " 
 
 " My dear father, in love, and fashion, and gallantry, and dis 
 play, everything has undergone a change since your time. " 
 
 At this moment Carrie re-entered the room. Her appear 
 ance probably suggested to the major of dragoons a portion of 
 what he should say. 
 
 " Then," he continued, " if you happened to be in attendance 
 upon a fair damsel, and a musical instrument of any sort hap 
 pened to be at hand, you were expected to solicit her to play ; 
 it was one part of the code of courtesy that you should escort 
 her to the instrument, her finger-tips in yours, you bowing half 
 to the ground, she smiling to the skies all the way as you went; 
 and when you seated her you bowed again to the ground, your 
 disengaged hand upon your enthralled heart, and she still smi 
 ling as graciously as if acknowledging the last of mortal favors. 
 Then, as she played and sang, you stood behind or beside her 
 chair, and fell, or rose into raptures at every stave, until at the 
 close you cried Oh! what divine enchanting ravishments !" 
 and, with a deep-drawn sigh, such as an air-pump might utter 
 as it sucks away the last breath from an exhausted receiver, 
 you again took the lady s tips between yours, and with mutual 
 smiles and bows escorted her back to her former place." 
 
 " Puppy ! you don t mean to say that / ever practised any of 
 this ridiculous sort of behavior ?" 
 
 " No doubt of it, sir, when your joints were a trifle more 
 flexible than now. But such was the behavior, and, absurdly 
 tender and impressive as it was, it never, in those days, was held 
 to bind either of the parties thus playing the fool, in any mortal 
 or spiritual engagements. But the case is altered now, and even 
 you, sir, " to the father "even you, sir, are evidently dis 
 posed to subscribe to the prevailing notion that when a block 
 head behaves aftp" this fashion, there s something in it." 
 
222 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " How, sir, what mean you I believe in such nonsense?" 
 
 " But it is evident you do, sir, whatever you may think ; 
 for look you, here come my Lord Rawdon and my Lord Ed 
 ward Fitzgerald ; and the younger of these two scapegrace 
 Irish lords, plays courtier to my sister Carrie, and by her finger 
 tips he conducts her to the harpsichord, and she sings for him 
 and plays for him, and he stands over her all the while looking 
 his raptures up at the ceiling, and thrusting his hands into his 
 hair, and sighing sentimentally, and imploring in subdued tones 
 for " one more divine song from those divine lips," playing 
 the foppish sentimentalist as the young foplings of the time of 
 Charles the Second used to do, your Sedleys and Rochesters 
 and Ethereges, Savilles, and Lovells ; and you jump headlong 
 to the conclusion that all this is love that our poor rustic sister 
 has made a conquest of a lord, and all that sort of thing, and 
 your dream now is of ennobling the family having a lord in 
 it, and probably seeing before you die " 
 
 The baron silenced him with a roar. 
 
 " Zounds, sir, do you hold me to be a fool !" 
 
 " By no means, sir, but the wisest man is hardly wise when 
 his peculiar weakness is assailed. Now, you are a born aristo 
 crat, and both of these Irish lords see the way to your sympa 
 thies. They have flattered you by attentions which you sup 
 pose to be peculiar, and what would be a commonplace civility 
 in a court, you find to be a special committal in a wild country 
 like ours. And you are rilling my poor little sister s head with 
 all sorts of notions of conquest, until she too begins to think of 
 foreign conquest, and of stars and garters, and of a presentation 
 at court, and heaven knows what besides, in the shape of high 
 society, state, and grand establishments, among the British 
 nobility." 
 
 " Now, Mr. St. Julien," exclaimed the old man, stifling his 
 anger, and striving to respond in the same quizzical humor with 
 his son " would not anybody suppose from this puppy s non 
 sense, so seriously stated, that there was some truth in all this 
 statement ; that I had really been playing the fool with these 
 Irish lords, and that my head was really turned with their 
 attentions? And all his invention comes from the simple state 
 ment which I made him, that they had been here, and spent a 
 
T. 228 
 
 night with me. As for my daughter, sir, T see no reason why 
 she should be flattered by any man s -attentions, or any lord s. 
 She is worthy, sir to my notion of any, the noblest person 
 in the three kingdoms.; and it is a mere scandal to speak of 
 her, as being delighted with the favor of my Lord Edward. In 
 truth, sir, she was hardly polite to him. Yet he was attentive 
 very attentive though by no means guilty of any such fop- 
 pish excruciations as that young puppy would insinuate." 
 
 Here Carrie herself interrupted playfully. 
 
 " Now, papa, don t pretend to lessen the merits of the con 
 quest I had made. I protest against both your account and 
 Willie s ; and do complain of the disposition which you both 
 show, to deprive me of the secret satisfaction which I feel in the 
 visit of these noble lords. You, my father, are of the opinion 
 that my Lord Rawdon came here on political accounts, to ob 
 tain your counsels in respect to the war and the country ; and 
 you took good care to inform him of all he wished to learn, and, 
 1 fancy, a great deal more ; you, Willie, have a notion that, 
 knowing British power to be declining everywhere in Carolina, 
 my lord only came hither to prevent by conciliation the defec 
 tion from the good cause of so strong a supporter of royal 
 government. You are both decidedly wrong. He came hither 
 for no other purpose than to introduce my Lord Edward Fitz 
 gerald. He had heard of me in Ireland ; he had exchanged 
 from the East India army into the 19th regiment, as soon as he 
 found that its destination was Carolina ; and no sooner does he 
 arrive, than he volunteers as an aid to my Lord Rawdon, and 
 persuades his lordship to visit the Barony, simply to get a sight of 
 myself, and when he did get a sight of me, and heard me play 
 and sing, it was all over with him. I protest, that he was in rap 
 tures, and that Willie s picture, though something of a carica 
 ture, was yet so very like the truth* that, in simple honesty, I 
 am compelled to recognise the portrait. There, gentlemen, you 
 have my version of this true history. It is such as a young 
 damsel alone could furnish, who seet. ~nore deeply into the true 
 motives of Irish lords than anybody else, j You see how every 
 thing hangs together in nicely-adjusted connection ; how the 
 parts fit; the cause and the effect equally discernible. You Gee 
 how earnest was the aim of my Lord Edward; with what love- 
 
224 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 like tenacity he pursued it ; at what sacrifice of comfort : a* 
 what risk of life ; and you see the result ; he has come he 
 has seen, and I have conquered. Pray now, if you arc gentle 
 men, do not strive to lessen the merits of my conquest, or make 
 me doubtful of my lover. But, from sentiment to supper ; I see 
 the servant beckons us." 
 
 And she rose gracefully as she spoke, and took the arm of 
 her brother. 
 
 "What a conceited baggage!" exclaimed the veteran. 
 But" shaking his head more seriously, he added " she is 
 half right. I do believe my Lord Edward has lost his heart !" 
 
 Willie laughed merrily, and a slight smile dawned upon the 
 small and well-cut mouth of St. Julien. Little Peter, at this 
 moment appeared, to wheel the colonel into the supper-room; 
 and the scene changed in a few seconds to the latter apart 
 ment. 
 
MIDSUMMER NIGHT S DREAMING. 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MIDSUMMER NIGHT S DREAMING. 
 
 IN the good old times and we are too apt to suppose that 
 all old times were good in comparison with our own present ; 
 an absurd notion, natural to all persons who .are beginning to 
 get old themselves; in the good old times, supper was a re 
 past of great significance, and not a little state with all who 
 claimed to derive from an English original. Our baron did not 
 abridge in any degree the solemn importance of the meal. 
 But we are not disposed to catalogue on the present occasion 
 the good things on table. Our novelists, following Walter Scott, 
 have indulged in such details ad nauseam; and in reporting the 
 attractive varieties of viands, which provoked the appetites of 
 their dramatis persona, they have too frequently taken away 
 all the appetites of their readers. There is, in all the Bull fam 
 ily, a great desire to see a well-spread table. It would seem 
 that cold baked meats could even be a source of warm delight 
 to mere spectators of the feast ; and charity dinners will still be 
 honored with the presence of numbers, who scan eagerly the 
 performances of voracious urchins whom they feed from the 
 hands of benevolence. Whether it is that they delight to see 
 how well hunger can feed, or that their pleasure arises from the 
 unwonted display of plum-pudding charities a feast one day 
 in the year, in marvellous contrast to the famine of the other 
 three hundred and sixty-four days is a question which the as 
 cetic philosopher may decide for himself, the point is one which 
 shall not interfere with our story. .For a like reason, we shall 
 content ourselves with saying simply that the supper table at the 
 Sinclair Barony, on the present occasion, was, as usual, amply 
 spread, and with a sufficient variety to pacify the hunger of any 
 dragoon officer in any service a class of the military in re 
 spect to whom the appetite is said always to be of proverbial ex 
 
 10* 
 
226 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 cellence. There were mecits cold and warm, breadstuffs of 
 wheat, rice, and corn; toasts and cakes ; and luxuries rarely 
 beheld by American eyes at this period hot cups of tea and 
 coffee, sent out their aromatic sweets at every plate upon the 
 board. The young lieutenants, Cordes, Mazyek, and Postell, 
 were invited to be sharers in the feast ; while, under Willie 
 Sinclair s directions, the whole body of dragoons were provided 
 with a smoking supper at their bivouac in the great avenue. 
 
 Carrie Sinclair presided as hostess; her brother officiating in 
 the place of the baron, whose game leg required cushions, and 
 a table to himself. But he sate close at hand, and mingled 
 cheerfully in the conversation and the feast, as became the pro 
 prietor. And the gentlemen feasted with a due sense of the 
 merits of the viands ; and Carrie was kept busy in the lady 
 like employment which a true lady can make so graceful 
 of adjusting the degree of cream and sugar to those cups, " which 
 not inebriate," but cheer. And, excepting the clatter of plates, 
 knives and forks, there was silence round the table " for a 
 time." 
 
 But the first vigorous workings of appetite over, the chat 
 began ; and soon the great silver tray, with its finely cut crys 
 tal, was set on the table, six goodly bottles, each with some 
 choice French or Spanish liqueur. This constituted, in those 
 good old times, a necessary feature of a planter s supper-table, 
 as essential as the tea and coffee ; and sometimes the lady con 
 descended to sip of the celestial blue, or red, or amber drops, at 
 the entreaty of the gentlemen i.e., be it remembered, when 
 it could no longer be disguised from a scandalous, and prying 
 world, that the aforesaid lady had fairly reached that certain 
 age, about which there can be no certainty. We suppose it 
 hardly necessary to say that Carrie Sinclair was still in pro 
 found ignorance of the peculiar virtues of any of the said liqueurs. 
 Her father, however, had the tray handed him, and filling 
 one of those tiny glasses, which were specially appropriated to 
 these fine cordials, he sent the tray round to the several guests. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " do me honor in a glass of cordial 
 I am happy to see you here." 
 
 They drank. A bugle sounded from without, and the young 
 lieutenants rose, an<7 with courtly bows, took their leave, with 
 
.MIDSUMMER NIGHT S DREAMING. 227 
 
 looks that would have lingered still. But the duty was a strict 
 one. St. Julien alone remained with the colonel, Willie Sin 
 clair, and Carre ; and a pleasant but casual conversation fol 
 lowed, which our space will not suffer us to put on record. IB 
 this conversation St. Julien mingled sparingly ; but what he 
 said, was, as usual, marked by a quiet grace, good sense, and 
 propriety, which insensibly had its effect upon the veteran. At 
 length Carrie rose and left the room for the parlor. St. Ju 
 lien kept his seal for a while, then followed her. Seeing this, his 
 old twinge of jealousy returned, like a twinge of the gout to the 
 foot, and troubled the soul of the veteran. He hallooed for 
 Little Peter to wheel him into the parlor also, but Willie Sin 
 clair arrested the movement. 
 
 " Not yet, iny dear father, if you please. I must have some 
 serious talk with you, and this is probably the only chance we 
 have, for you will soon retire, and I shall have to leave the 
 Barony before you are awake in the morning." 
 " Why so soon, Willie." 
 
 " I have a great deal to do to-morrow, sir, and shall have to 
 ride fast for the next three days, to accomplish the various 
 tasks assigned me." 
 
 " This reminds me, Willie, that I have a subject of very se 
 rious talk Avith you. Why, sir, are you in this ungentlemanly 
 disguise. If you have a military command, Avhy reject the uni 
 form, Avhich, whether I approve the cause or not, is on the face 
 of it significant of an honorable military service. In this dis 
 guise, my son, you endanger life and honor equally. It in 
 creases tenfold the horror and anxiety Avhich I feel in conse 
 quence of your present connection. I now tremble not, sir, 
 that you may be slain in battle for this is not necessarily a 
 
 dishonoring fate, though you perish in an improper cause but 
 
 with the dread, sir, that a son of mine may be destined to a 
 felon s death." 
 
 " The risks of Avar are always various, as they are always 
 serious, my father. In the performance of important duties, 
 such as the heart as well as head acknowledges, AVC are not 
 suffered to pick and choose between them. You are right in 
 supposing thai I incur some extra risks in addition to those of 
 battle ; but the end Avhich I aim at is of such vital impor 
 
228 THE FOHAYERS. 
 
 tance to our cause, that I am compelled to shut my eyes to it8 
 superior perils. Of course, I can not tell you what these dutier 
 are. I trust, however, that this week will end the peculiar ser 
 vice in which I am now engaged, and I shall then resume my 
 command in the fields of open warfare. Let this suffice ; a 
 single week or two will be sufficient for iny purposes." 
 
 "But in that week or two, Willie in that short period of 
 time what may not happen! Oh! Willie, my son, greatly 
 as you have vexed and disappointed me in the course you have 
 thought proper to pursue, I will forgive you all, if you will only 
 cast off these mean disguises, and appear in your proper char 
 acter. Now that I see your present employment, the horrible 
 picture of the cord and scaffold are ever before my eyes. Re 
 member Andre !" 
 
 The son was touched at the sudden show of feeling in the old 
 man. His eyes filled. He took his father s hand. 
 
 " Believe me, sir, no one more bitterly regrets than myself 
 that any act of mine should give you pain, or startle you with 
 a moment s apprehension. 1 trust, sir, that I feel I would glad 
 ly die to make you happy. But my opinions and sentiments 
 involve a duty of performance, and one duty has inevitably 
 grown out of another. It will end soon this, the most painful 
 and perilous part of it and you shall then be relieved from 
 all farther anxiety on this score." 
 
 " You have passed without a flag, within the British posts, 
 Willie you meditate doing so again." 
 
 " I can tell you nothing, sir, upon the subject. It is only 
 proper that you should know nothing not because it would 
 harm our cause, but as it would make your relations somewhat 
 awkward in any future meeting with the officers of the British 
 army." 
 
 " Oh ! do not heed me in this matter." 
 
 " I must heed everything, equally on your account, my own, 
 and that of the service in which I am engaged. Let us now 
 talk of a subject which more immediately concerns yourself and 
 my sisters." 
 
 " What do you mean, Willie ?" 
 
 You will all have to leave the Barony, sir, and the sooner 
 you ^o so the better This region will shortly become the ac- 
 
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAMING. 229 
 
 tivc scene of war. Here will be the shock of the contending 
 armies. The whole country between the Santee and the Edisto 
 will constitute but one vast theatre of action, more or less em 
 ployed, and for a period more or less prolonged; and every spot 
 of this precinct will be traversed alternately by conflicting 
 armies. They will rock to and fro over the country, and the 
 bloodiest trials of stre. gth may take place at your very door. 
 Of course, all will be confusion, insecurity, and absolute danger. 
 Neither party will be able to afford protection against the law 
 less bands that hover along the track of armies, and snatch at 
 spoil whenever it offers. You can not desire to linger in such a 
 region, under such circumstances; and my counsel is that you 
 remove, within a week if possible, across the Santee, and take 
 up your abode with Aunt Malcolm." 
 
 For a moment the old man was confounded. When he re 
 covered himself, he said : 
 
 " And, pray, from what reasons do you gather the prospect 
 of Avar in this neighborhood ?" 
 
 " It is almost inevitable. Here the British general will be 
 required to make his last stand." 
 
 " Pshaw ! the old story ! Do you hope to make me believe 
 any such nonsense, when I know that rny Lord Rawdon has 
 relieved Ninety-Six, and has driven your blacksmith commander 
 out of the country." 
 
 " He did not drive him far, sir, and the game is reversed. 
 Lord Rawdon is even now in full retreat." 
 
 " Impossible, sir ! Impossible !" 
 
 " But true, nevertheless. Ninety-Six is abandoned ; and in 
 proof of the acknowledged incapacity of the British forces to 
 hold the country, the loyalists of Ninety-Six district are now on 
 the march; men, women, children, goods, and chattels, umlu 
 Cruger s escort, seeking a last refuge within the walls ( 
 Charleston." 
 
 " Not a word of this will I believe." 
 
 " On my honor, sir, it is all true. Lord Rawdon s successes 
 were wholly momentary. The arrival of three fresh regiments 
 at Charleston not destined for service here enabled him to 
 make a rapid march for the relief of Ninety-Six. That duty 
 done, he feels himself unable to retain the post he has relieved. 
 
230 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 t 
 
 His only hope was to save the garrison, and cover the exodus 
 of the loyalist inhabitants. His force is inadequate for hiore." 
 
 " But there will be new regiments from Great Britain." 
 
 " That is impossible. Her resources are exhausted and 
 diese troops that have come out from Ireland are not to be 
 relied on. I am able to assure you, that their officers are 
 scarcely able to keep them in subjection, and numbers desert 
 daily. I do not deceive you in anything. But, whether the 
 British receive re-enforcements or not whether they recover 
 their power, or not this region is doomed to be the theatre of 
 war ! The armies will ravage it ; and you may judge, for 
 yourself, from the events of this day, what will be the security 
 of your family, when the marauders shall become hundreds, 
 where there are now but scores. Hundreds lurk in the wake, 
 and upon the wings, of both armies, whom neither army can 
 catch or control. Let me entreat you, sir, to be warned in sea 
 son, and to retire from the region till it is relieved from the 
 presence of both armies. A month or two of absence will suf 
 fice. The British will be compelled to take shelter in Charles 
 ton before Christmas." 
 
 A smile curled the lip of the veteran. His son saw it, and 
 hastily continued : 
 
 " Do not, my dear father, suffer your intense loyalty to be 
 tray your understanding. I do not deal in prophecy, but in 
 simple fact, of which your own reason may assure you at any 
 moment. Look at the state of the case. You have seen the 
 British recently abandoning post after post; contracting their 
 sphere of operations; relieving a post merely to leave it to the 
 enemy ; withdrawing from their homes a whole community, as 
 no longer able to protect them; hiring foreign mercenaries; 
 unable to rely upon their Irish subsidies! now almost the only 
 source upon which they can count for any ; and under continual 
 apprehension in Charleston, their chief garrison, which betrays 
 either their timidity or their conscious weakness." 
 
 " Oh ! that is because Charleston is entrusted to such a dirtj 
 scoundrel as Balfour." 
 
 " No, sir ! Balfour is a selfish and dastardly rogue, but he 
 has not neglected the interests of his king, though he has 
 grievously mistaken hem. He could do no better with the 
 
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAMING. 231 
 
 means allowed him. His means are now exhausted. Rawdon 8 
 are exhausted. Rawclon is an able man, one of the ablest of the 
 British army, but he is sick of the service, and he foresees its 
 disasters. He is now claiming to be an invalid " 
 
 " Sir, I tell you, my Lord Rawdon is in as fine health as any 
 man I ever saw. Remember, it is not three weeks since I had 
 hirn at my board." 
 
 " And yet I tell you, that my Lord Rawdon will retire to 
 Europe, on the plea of ill health, as soon as he gets back to 
 Charleston." 
 
 " Prophecy again, Willie." 
 
 " You will see. I know all their secrets. I have given you 
 the true history. But, there can be no doubt, that Rawdon is 
 in full retreat, Suppose, sir, that, within a week, you hear this 
 news confirmed by other authorities will you then retire to 
 the hills of Santee? I do not ask you to believe me, though 
 you surely know that I could never deceive you. But if other 
 proofs reach you, sir, will you not then see and feel the neces 
 sity of putting my sisters and yourself in a place of safety ?" 
 
 " But what will my flight for such it will be what will it 
 argue to my Lord Rawdon ?" 
 
 "Nothing more than a common prudence having reference 
 to the safety of women and children. Lord Rawdon knows 
 your loyalty knows that, in your situation, you can not be a 
 combatant. Nay, ask himself, and he will tell you, put these 
 girl-children out of the way of the two opposing armies." 
 
 After a pause the old man said : 
 
 " I will think of it, Willie. I will think of it. But let us 
 join Carrie." 
 
 At that moment, Carrie was heard singing in the piazza, and 
 no doubt St. Julien was her companion perhaps her only one. 
 He had had an excellent opportunity. The old baron thought 
 of this. He had another twinge, almost like one of the gout, as 
 he recollected how long they had been left together. Little 
 Peter was again put in requisition and the veteran, chair and 
 cushions, were wheeled from the supper-room into the parlor, 
 and from parlor to piazza, where they certainly found St. 
 St. Julien and Carrie alone together. Little Lottie, tired out, 
 had been carried off to bed. 
 
232 THE FOKAYEIIS. 
 
 There was nothing suspicious in the appearance of the twc. 
 who occupied the piazza on the appearance of father and son. 
 They were not particularly near each other, and neither of 
 them betrayed any confusion. But the old man still had 
 twinges, and, what with the reflection that " the Frenchman 
 as old Sinclair still persisted in calling St. Julien had 
 enjoyed a most excellent opportunity which he could scarcely, 
 as an old soldier, be supposed to have neglected, and the start 
 ling and totally unexpected intelligence, as disagreeable as 
 startling, which his son had revealed to him, the veteran wai, 
 just as querulous as he could be within gentlemanly limits. 
 St. Julien heard quietly the growlings of the senior, and said 
 nothing. Willie Sinclair was as playful as if neither war, nor 
 rebellion, nor treachery, were in the land, and Carrie laughed 
 as light-heartedly at his badinage as if her lover were not sit 
 ting within six feet of her. 
 
 " The worst of your gout, my dear father," said Willie 
 and I suppose it is the case with other gouty persons is 
 that you not only feel pain, but that you do not sympathize 
 with pleasure. Now, sir, sitting here in the delicious balmy 
 softness of this breeze, with the moon just rising over that pine 
 forest, everything so calm, so soft, so delicious, it is wonderful 
 that anything care, pain, fear, doubt, apprehension- -should 
 leave us totally insensible of the prospect the scene the 
 sweet serenity and heaven-like peace, over earth and heaven 
 The heart ought to soften insensibly, the fancy become lively, 
 the whole soul winged and rising in sympathy with the rich, 
 pure, delicious nature, every pulse of which just now seems to 
 respond in exquisite harmony. Who thinks of strife now 
 who remembers the past conflict, or the past danger 1 It seems 
 sinful, indeed, that we should not forget. " Sufficient for the 
 day is the evil thereof;" and let the Future bring its own mis 
 sion of mischief, without sending expresses to bring in the intel 
 ligence." 
 
 And, sooth to say, the scene was very sweet and beautiful ~ 
 so calm, so serene ; the pines slumbered, or only murmured to 
 the zephyr the moon, meanwhile, hallowed all their tops with 
 the softest effulgence in the blue heavens, large masses of 
 white, creamy clouds floated away slowly from the approaching 
 
MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAMING. 283 
 
 orb of night, but :;ot so fast, but thai they momently put on 
 fresh robes of silver, and grew themselves to glories as they 
 swept away with their long trailing garments of softest lustre. 
 Down the long dark avenue, the few fires kept up by the dra 
 goons, grew gradually dim, in the increasing light of the moon, 
 which covered the shadowy foliage with its own brightness, and 
 now began to scatter a thousand droplets, which, falling through 
 the thick evergreen tops, lay upon earth like so many bright 
 pearls imploring to be gathered. Hardly a sound was heard to 
 break the delicious serenity of the scene ; save now and then a 
 murmur from the remoter part of the encampment, where groups 
 of the dragoons kept wakeful in merry chat or song, beguiling 
 their watch as they could with the small resources of a volun 
 teer soldiery. Occasionally, the faint cries of a hound in the 
 forest, hunting con amore, or crying for a lost master, added to 
 the picturesque sweetness of the night. 
 
 " Let no one disparage our plain country, as wanting in scenic 
 beauty," said Willie Sinclair, "when we possess such blue skies, 
 such delicious moonlight, such vast plains of verdure, tree stri 
 ving with tree for the embrace with light and air; such a wilder 
 ness of shrub and flower; shrubs that give out odor as you 
 crush them, flowers that woo your every step with bloom and 
 beauty as you go, and birds that sing in clouds, with a gush of 
 voices that tell only of summer buds and blossoms, and summer 
 fancies. Ah, Carrie, shall the time ever come when there shall 
 cease to be a glory for our eyes in yonder moon when the 
 bloom shall pass away from the forest, and the perfum^ from 
 the flower, and we shall only pursue our way among walks of 
 winter, our feet among the dead, to find the vista ending only 
 in a cheerless grave V 1 
 
 " A sad thought ! and this is not the season for sad thoughts, 
 Willie. You are here to-day and gone to-morrow. Do not 
 sadden our moments now, by gloomy fancies." 
 
 " I will not ! Come! I will be generous. You have not 
 heard me sing for a long time, and I have a new song, made by 
 our partisan troubadour, gallant George Dennison." 
 
 " What ! have you a poet too among your rapscallions ?" de 
 manded the veteran colonel. 
 
 " Ay, sir, and it is perhaps an argument in favor of our cause 
 
234 THE FOUAYERS. 
 
 that w e can boast so good a poet as George Dennison, since the 
 poets have been always patiiots." 
 
 " If so, Willie, your cause is lost : for our army boasts of 
 Major Andre and Henry Barry," quoth the colonel. 
 
 " Say nothing of poor Andre, father," said Carrie binclaii. 
 
 " No ! no ! And the less said of Harry Barry as a poet, per 
 haps the better. I should be sorry to do so much wrong to 
 Pennison s ma.se as to subject her to a comparison with that o f 
 the little major. But you shall hear how our own Georgie 
 sings. He makes his own music, by the way, as -well as the 
 words, and ir A>\ improvisatore. The song which I now giv> 
 you v. iis struck off at a heat, one night, over the supper-tabln 
 of Captain Porgy, while we lay on the Great Ped?p. We line 
 Colonels Maham and Singleton at supper, and half a $; *x> 
 sides. I admit that the poet s inspiration did not come tiii 
 supper was quite, -.vcr, and the Jamaica in free circulation." 
 
 " Well, leave off the long preface and begin," said the baron. 
 " 1 confess, Willie, I not only wish to hear you sing once more, 
 but I am curious tc soe what sort of a poet you keep in you. 
 rebel tents." 
 
 Willie Sinclair tried and tuned the guitar in a few moments, 
 then sang tt.e following lyv c in a fine, powerful voice, and witl>. 
 c-jusiderab) taste and spirit: 
 
 My country is my mistress, 
 
 And in her beauties rare, 
 I read the sweetest hist ries 
 
 That make a L.ved one dear: 
 Her charms invite to glory, 
 
 They won the brave of yore, 
 And linked with gallant story 
 
 Shall win for evermor 
 My heart, ray hearr\ dear rtistreee 
 My heart is at thy feet! 
 
 "Do foemen gaze upon fch/je, 
 
 \V th eager thirst to spoil; 
 To tfrest thy glory from ths 
 
 And trample on thy soil I 
 Ho I let me hear thy summour 
 
DREAMING. d 
 
 But lift thy spear and cry, 
 Let him who loves his country, 
 
 Protect her rights or die ! 
 My sword, my sword, dear mistress 
 My sword is at thy feet? 
 
 8. 
 
 * I m but a forest ranger, 
 
 With cloak and cap awry, 
 But, in the hour of danger, 
 
 I ll do for thee or die ; 
 The charms that won our sires, 
 
 Are fresh and sweet to me, 
 As when, through hostile fires, 
 
 Their brave souls set thee fre* 
 My life, my life, dear mistress, 
 My life is at thy feet!" 
 
 " And it is such stuff as this time satisfies your patriotism, if 
 it? It is worthy of the Jamaica which inspired it. Why, 
 "Willie, it has not even the merit of decent rhyme. How do 
 you make from thee and upon thee correspond ? And what 
 a gross license is taken in making mistress and hist ries 
 rhyme ! Shocking ! The fellow must be an Irishman, I 
 fancy." 
 
 " H^ is of the stock, at all events. But you must not be too 
 exacting about the rhymes in a song, where much liberty is 
 usually allowed. Have you seen the poems of the new Scotch 
 Doet, a lad named Burns, a mere peasant, who is astonishing 
 tlui British people by his native melodies 1 Dennison has sev 
 eral of them, and they are very sweet and simple, and withal 
 very touching, but the verses are just as rude, and free and 
 easy, as those of Dennison ; not a whit better in respect to 
 rhyme ; but that does not materially hurt them for singing, and 
 a little rudeness may be always permitted wherf the measure is 
 correct, and where the sentiment is good. Besides, this of Den 
 nison was an absolute outgushing at the moment an improvi 
 sation and I hold it to be a wonderful proof of the spontane 
 ous merit of the minstrel." 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! there is no such thing as improvising Engli&\i 
 poetry. I have no doubt he made it by dint of repeated ham 
 mering in his private workshop, and his chief merit is in memo 
 
23t THE FORAYERS. 
 
 rizing it well. TLey say that Sheridan does the same thing m 
 his epigrams and speeches. But I have had enough of your 
 backwoods genius. British poetry is good enough for me, and 
 will serve our purposes for the next hundred years. I must go 
 to bed. Mr. St. Julien, you take a bed with us of course, and 
 we shall see you in the morning." 
 
 "No, sir! I am obliged to you, but I must not indulge iv 
 iny such luxury now. I will share the night with my dragoon? 
 I am sorry to add, sir, that we shall ride at dawn." 
 
 " Well, sir, be at home here while you stay. Your friei.d will 
 do the honors. Good night, sir. Willie, you will see me before 
 you retire 1" 
 
 " Yes, sir : I will help you now to your chamber." 
 
 "No ! no ! Little Peter is better able to do that. He kii^wi 
 just i.cny to manage it. Carrie, my child." 
 
 She lieu io him, and kissed him fondly. 
 
 " I will visit you wheii Willie does, father " 
 
 " Very good; ooly do not be too late." 
 
 *Tj. .un the old man had retired, Willie Sinclair proposed a 
 walk to his :,ibtcr and St. Julien, through the encampment of 
 the dragooiift, who skirted the avenue in groups, their horses all 
 being tethered to the trees on the lower side. As they ap 
 peared, rhe bugler of the corps, a fellow of no small merit in his 
 depart". r.it, stealing off to the end of the avenue, welcomed 
 uiem with F; plaintive German air, the long-drawn melancholy 
 notes of which chimed harmoniously with the hour and the 
 scene. By the failing camp-fires and the slowly-rising moon, 
 the picturesque of the bivouac was greatly enlivened and 
 increased. 
 
 What a glorious sight must an encampment of a great army 
 be," exclaimed Carrie, " an army, such as they see in Europe 
 twenty or thirty thousand men, gayly caparisoned, helmets of 
 polished steel, plumes flaunting in air, silken and gorgeous ban 
 ners, and glittering harness." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Carrie ; a magnificent spectacle. We can 
 -mow you no such sight in Carolina. But a dragoon charge 
 through an open pine wood, Carrie, is a sight also worth 
 seeing." 
 
 "* She may soo snvnotl ing of the shock of armies here before 
 
MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS ihlEAMTNfi. 237 
 
 long," was the remark of St. Julien. " I hope, Sinclair that 
 you persuaded your father to remove to the Hills." 
 
 " I tried to d<^ it. I gave him all the reasons I could for it : 
 and you, Carrie, must follow up the counsel when I am gone. 
 Better, indeed, that you should affect a degree of apprehension 
 that you may not feel, so that you attain this object." 
 
 " But is there really any danger of this?" asked the damsel 
 in lower tones. 
 
 " Yes ! nothing can be more probable. Within ten days the 
 two armies may cross bayonets on these very plains. I shall 
 urge upon him the removal of the family again to-night ; but I 
 fear with no success. My father is not easily to be persuaded 
 that the British army is not fully able to give him security in 
 his own homestead; and to every argument which I offer he op 
 poses their invincibility. He supposes that all I say is the 
 result only of our presumptuous hopes and still more presump 
 tuous conceit. Bat here comes Little Peter, St. Julien, bring 
 ing out a jug of Jamaica which I ordered for the use of your 
 troop. Have it shared among them, and then we will prepare 
 for sleep. I need more than I get ; and the two hours that I 
 enjoyed on your bed this morning, Carrie, have only increased 
 my appetite for half a dozen more to-night." 
 
 Little Peter now appeared. The jug of Jamaica was dis 
 tributed among the eager dragoons ; and, while St. Julien 
 escorted Carrie toward the dwelling an opportunity for the 
 lovers leave-taking thus accorded, which we are sure was not 
 unprofitably employed Sinclair found his way among the 
 dragoons, shaking hands with their best men, and showing him 
 self familiarly to all. The troop had been raised by himself, 
 and he knew the way to make himself popular with them. 
 When he rejoined his sister and St. Julien, they were again in 
 the piazza, the latter being ready to depart. The two separa 
 ted in silence ; but there was a speech in the final squeeze of 
 the hand which he gave her, which had in it far more eloquence 
 than any words of tenderness. 
 
 St. Julien strolled out slowly to join his dragoons, while 
 Willie and his sister proceeded together to the chamber of the 
 father. It is needless that we follow them thither. We can 
 conceive, by what we already know of the parties, the sort 
 
238 THE FOKAYERS. 
 
 of conversation that took place between them. Of course, Willie 
 re-urged the removal of the family to the hills of Santee. 
 
 "No, no, Willie! If I go anywhere, I retire to the city! If 
 rebellion is to be triumphant, this country is no place for me ! " 
 
 " You will think better of it. Our triumph involves no forfeiture 
 of those securities of law and liberty which make a country precious 
 to a people." 
 
 "It does! it does! Once break down the barrier of rightful 
 authority, and there is an end to all security all right all liberty ! 
 Then rapine and appetite Will rage like wolves throughout the 
 land ! But I will consider your suggestion. It will be time enough 
 when the two armies approach the neighborhood to determine. 
 We shall have sufficient premonition of the approach of the 
 danger." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that, sir ; but I can say no more. Only, sir, 
 let me entreat that you be governed in what you do, by the single 
 consideration of what is due to the safety of the girls." 
 
 " Surely, Willie, surely ! I think of them only." 
 
 And they wrung each other s hands and parted, Carrie accom 
 panying Willie to his apartments. They could hear a deep 
 sigh from the father s chamber after they had left it. Poor old 
 man ! He had many foes to his own happiness to encounter in 
 his own prejudices. Such is always the danger, where a strong 
 will, tortured by conventional laws, is desirous of subduing the 
 most natural of human instincts. What to him were the fancied 
 rights of the German monarch of Great Britain, weighed against 
 the claims of his own children, and the sympathies with his native 
 soil ? Nothing, really ; but very serious obstacles, indeed, when 
 we consider the training, the teaching, and the whole experience 
 of his early life. It is this very sort of despotism, that of con 
 vention and experience, however valuable in a thousand respects, 
 which make it so difficult for men, who have passed the mid 
 dle period of life, to learn or to appreciate the new truth 
 the inevitable necessity of progress. It is not that they can 
 not learn ; it is because the task is so much harder to unlearn ! 
 and old men rarely love to clear new lauds ; they prefer to manure 
 the old. 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 
 
 BETWEEN brother and sister, so really kindred and truly affec 
 tionate as Willie and Carrie Sinclair, we may readily conceive 
 that the parting was as difficult as it was tender. But it was 
 at last effected, and Willie laid himself down to slumber. He 
 needed sleep and felt weariness, and was just dropping into that 
 dreamy [condition of mind, which promises a sleep equally serene 
 and refreshing, when he heard a door open below, a rustling in 
 the passage to his chamber, and then the chamber-door itself, as 
 it turned with a creak upon its hinges. He raised himself up at 
 the moment, and in another second he found Brain at his side, 
 fresh from that famous castle in the "Four-Hole Swamp," where 
 we had the pleasure first to introduce the stalwart and faithful 
 slave t.o the knowledge of our readers. 
 
 " Ha, Bram ! You are late ! All right ? " 
 
 "All right as he kin be, Mass Willie. I bin keep late, you see, 
 sence dat fellow, Jim Ballou, bin git drunk on de road. He hab 
 bottle in he pocket, Mass Willie, and nebber top drink till he finish 
 em ; all he se f, cepting one sup he gee to me." 
 
 "And where s Ballou now ?" 
 
 " He s down stairs ; he da wait for you to call em. I no bring 
 em up, for sturb you in you sleeping, and mek noise, wid he 
 cowbelly shoes; and besides he ain t quite git overlie drunk yit." 
 
 Did he bring in any papers ? " 
 
 "Yes, he git em ! I wants em to gee me; I fear d he will 
 loss em ; but he say, No truss em to you, nigger. No truss em 
 to me ! an he so drunk all day, he kain t truss hese f." 
 
 "Bring him up here, Bram." 
 
 Jim Ballou made his appearance a few moments after. He 
 was a well made, large, vigorous fellow, with an ingenuous 
 open countenance, frank and fair, but now flushed with the 
 signs of frequent intemperance. He was now only half sober, 
 
240 THE FORAYF/SS. 
 
 and just drunk in that degree which leaves one in full perstia 
 fiion of his own entire competence and importance. Like mos* 
 persons of sanguine temperament, possessed of strength and 
 courage and, we may add, conscious of his own fidelity he 
 was apt to be a little impudent when under the influence of 
 ifjuor. His first entrance into the chamber would have satis 
 fied Willie Sinclair of his condition, without rendering necessary 
 the report of the slave, which was also entirely to be relied on. 
 Sinclair, accordingly, received him with great gravity, sitting 
 on the side of the bed. 
 
 " Have you brought the papers, Ballou ?" 
 
 " That I have, major ; they re all safe ; but I ve had work, 
 riding and fasting," giving the papers as he spoke. 
 
 " And drinking, Ballou 1" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, major, you may say that. If twan t for a sup 
 or two, now and then, at the bottle, a poor fellow would break 
 down in the hard riding I ve got to do." 
 
 " You seem to suffer from it, Ballou ; and I am to suppose 
 you do, since you complain of it." 
 
 " Oh, deuce take the complaint, major ! I m not given to 
 complainings, though the work is mighty hard I have to do. 
 Yet, I gits on ; and, as I takes a breeze now and then, I con 
 trives to keep up. I m good for a frolic, major, whenever there 
 a chaince." 
 
 The major only gave the scout a glance of the eye, and then 
 proceeded t^ examine the papers which he brought. This he 
 did with .rnestness and deliberation. Meanwhile, Ballou 
 strode acr js the chamber, with a whistle, picked up and ex 
 itmined the alabaster ornaments upon the mantlepiece, upset a 
 vase of flowers, awkwardly replaced them, still whistling, rolled 
 over to the window, and stretched his head out for the enjoy 
 ment of the moonlight. Sinclair followed him for a moment 
 with his eye. 
 
 "Ballou!" he called. 
 
 " Yes, major ! Here we are. Are them papers all right, 
 major ?" 
 
 " Right \ You saw General Marion ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, the Fox is right and lively. He gin me a fuP 
 half-hour s talk." 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 241 
 
 I hope you were sober, sir, while he did so." 
 
 " As a judge, sir ! Oh! yes couldn t be otherwise sir; at 
 that time hadn t drank a thimbleful of the element. Saw the 
 Fox, sir, as I say, and we talked a while ; saw Colonel Maham 
 too, sir had a talk with him. Colonel Singleton had some 
 thing to say, sir not much, but he s a gentleman, sir what 
 he had to say was very sensible, and quite elegant. But. didn t 
 get the first nip of the element from either of the gentlemen." 
 
 " And where are they now, Ballon ]" 
 
 "Well, sir, taking all things into count what they said, 
 and what I suppose they had to do they are now opposite- to 
 Cave Hall. They talked of pushing upward, off-hand, sir, and 
 with a breezy spur. Colonel Singleton told me to tell you that 
 the boats would be ready at your landing to-morrow, and that 
 you must not delay them." 
 
 "Did you have to go down to Nelson s?" 
 
 " Yes, major. That was a devil of a ride a day of it and 
 a mighty lean supper to sleep upon." 
 
 " Any report from that quarter, sir ?" 
 
 All quiet, I believe, sir ?" I got from some niggers thai 
 Jiere had been a small party of tory gentlemen at Wantoot, a 
 day or two ago, but they went off to the South somewhere." 
 
 The answers were given with tolerable clearness. There 
 was some rambling talk on the part of the scout for such was 
 Jim Ballon, and one of the best in the service, when sober 
 but we have condensed the substance of his replies into the 
 briefest language. This rambling of the speaker, with a little 
 too much of the dashing in his tones and manner, which Sin 
 clair thought quite too familiar and obtrusive, were now to find 
 their commentary. 
 
 " Ballon, you have been drinking." 
 
 " No denying the insinuation, major. It s my little infirmity, 
 *ir. But, drunk or sober, I know my duty, sir, and I do it? sir 
 I do it." 
 
 " You may think so, Ballou, but you will find few persons of 
 the same opinion. I certainly can not trust a man, whom, at 
 any moment, a bottle of rum or whiskey may seduce who. nc 
 matter what the business in hand, the peril to himself or others. 
 tli* 1 importance of his trusts, or the necessity of having ail his 
 
242 THE FOIiAYERS. 
 
 wits about him, forgets all in the most miserable and beastlj 
 temptations !" 
 
 "Severe, major rather. Severe, I may say! I m a sin 
 ner, in that way. sir, I admit but I never neglect my duty, 
 major ! never !" 
 
 " I do not know that ! I do not believe it ! No man who 
 puts it out of his own power to control his physical and mental 
 energies, and to use them at a moment s warning, but must, 
 Feme time or other, neglect his duties! I know that you have 
 peglected yours ! You should have met me last evening at 
 Bram s castle." 
 
 " I tried, sir, but I couldn t. The thing was decidedly im- 
 popsible, major not to be cbne not to be done! Couldn t 
 do it couldn t !" 
 
 "Not so, sir you could i You were drinking yesterday as 
 well as to-day. More, sir, your indiscretion lias done mischief! 
 You have suffered yourself to be seen nay, followed, into the 
 swamp so that Hell-fire Dick, and some of his gang, are pos 
 sessed of all the clues to that place of refuge." 
 
 The fellow was startled and humbled. His tones and man 
 ner changed. He grew quite sober on the instant. He knew 
 none better how important to the party was the secret of 
 i heir hiding-places 
 
 "Oh ! Major Willie, tell me, it ain t so. You re just trying 
 to scare me that you are to scare me " 
 
 " It is so, Ballon, and we are no longer secure in a refuge 
 which would have been particularly important at this juncture, 
 if the knowledge had been confined to ourselves.* Look at that 
 paper. I took it this day from the pocket of Hell-fire Dick !" 
 
 " What ! you had him in your hands? Devil Dick in you* 
 hands?" 
 
 " Read the paper." 
 
 The scout read and struck his head with his hands. 
 
 " It s true, sir ! It s true ! I ve been a fool and a beast, sir 
 It s clear that Hell-fire Dick followed me to the swamp. But 
 you have him you have hung him, sir he was outlawed, 
 you know. You hung him of course heels free--- head on 
 one side you hung him !" 
 
 " He has escaped ! and no doubt remembers the rocue to the 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 242 
 
 castle, just as well without this memorandum as with it. Nay 
 more : he had with him a party of four others, all of whom arc 
 prohably possessed of the same secret." 
 
 Who are they, sir ?" asked the scout quickly, 
 
 " Sam Brydone " 
 
 "Ah ! Skin-the-Serpent, as they calls him." 
 
 " Ralph Branson " 
 
 " He s the Trailer, and a mighty good seout, but a great ras 
 cal. And, sir he gets drunk too." 
 
 "Does that improve his quality as a scout?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, sir ; but, may be, it will give me a better chance 
 at him !" 
 
 The scout did not see how fatal was the admission that he 
 thus made. Sinclair quietly remarked 
 
 " And he, possibly, congratulates himself upon the advantage 
 which a like habit in you will afford to him. Drunkenness, 
 you see, is no merit in a scout." 
 
 "I m afraid, sir, that s a true notion a true notion." 
 
 " The other fellows were Joe Best and Pete Blodgit." 
 
 " What sir our Pete ! " 
 
 "Yes: Best will not trouble us. He was hung, yestei day 
 by the dragoons, as an outlaw, after being severely wounded. 
 Blodgit is a person to be watched rather than feared. There 
 may be others to whom Hell-fire Dick has imparted hit, discov 
 ery ; but two of those I have mentioned were probably with 
 him when he made it. They were with him just afterward. 
 And now, sir, you see what is due to your drunkenness. FOJ 
 this offence I will not punish you, but I can no longer trust 
 you, Ballou." 
 
 "Oh! sir major -you call that no punishment no pun 
 ishment to me, sir, Jim Ballou to me!" 
 
 It was the penalty, well known to you, of such an offence 
 as yours, yet you have not feared it, Ballou. I am unwilling 
 to risk being placed in a relation with you in which I may hai t 
 to punish you ; for I can not forget that we have known each 
 other in boyhood ; and I prefer to dismiss you from my ser 
 vice." 
 
 " Dismiss me from your service me, Jim Ballou ! Oh ! nn | 
 major, you can t do that. I can t be dismissed. I m yourinaa, 
 
244 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 sir by all that s affectionate and interesting, major I m yont 
 man. Can t be dismissed, sir stick to y.ou right and left 
 for ad and backward, sir just like your right hand, sir lik*j 
 your dog, sir like your nigger, major like your nigger." 
 
 " N>, Ballon ; we must part." 
 
 " Psho, major but you must be jesting. It s unpleasant 
 jesting, sir, between old friends, Dismiss me! God bless me 
 What a notion all a notion, sir. Why, Willie Sinclair, twas 
 .Jim Ballon that first taught you to cross a horse." 
 
 "I m sorry, Ballou sorry enough but I can t trust yon 
 any more." 
 
 " What ! and only for a little familiarity with the jug jug ! 
 with the jug an innocent jug a bottle, sir, not a jug. Jugs 
 of Jamaica are not to be had every day. A mere innocent fa 
 miliarity with a bottle a black bottle of Jamaica. No, no! 
 Major Willie, you can t do it. The thing won t be done. Dis 
 miss me from your service! I won t swear, major, but I ll take 
 a celestial oath upon it, that the thing can t be done won t be 
 clone, sir won t suffer itself to be done." 
 
 " It must be done." More seriously. 
 
 " And only for that little familiarity with the bottle. Why, 
 major, the bottle rather helps my ability. It does, sir. A 
 touch of -the element, sir, always gives me a sort of life to be up 
 and doing, just as if I had a pair of wings sir makes me fly, 
 sir, makes me fly." 
 
 " You shall fly no more for me, Ballou, under its inspira 
 tions." 
 
 " Come, come, major! stop that now. It makes me feel un 
 easy, sir it does. I know, sir, that I m a fool, sir easy to 
 be persuaded, sir, when the liquor speaks ; but what then ^ 
 Aint I here aint the papers, there aint the duty done." 
 
 " Yes ! and as I have shown you, it is sometimes overdone 
 and I owe it to the cause in which I am engaged, to peril none 
 of its secrets in the hands of a man who can not resist the miser 
 able temptation of the bottle. I arn sorry to part with you, 
 r.illou; no one better knows your ability than I do; and I 
 know you to be a true friend of your country ; more, sir, I 
 have loved you as one associated with all my childish sports 
 *jjd exei*cisca , bu; we nmst part. You ca" take service in the 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 245 
 
 tffiga le, as scout or soldier, but I can give you no more sr ecial 
 trusts." 
 
 " Oh ! Willie Sinclair ! Are you serious now ?" and th* fel- 
 ow s voice trembled. 
 
 " I am, Ballou as serious as I ever was in all my life. Sc- 
 1-ious and sorry ! Sorry to lose you sorry for yourself. Sorry 
 that one of our best scouts should be lost to our service, where 
 he might serve us best if he would." 
 
 The tears gushed from the fellow s eyes, and he fell upon 
 his knees in great agitation. His voice was husky with emo 
 tion, as he cried : 
 
 "Pardon me this once, major Willie Sinclair pardon mo 
 this once, and I will swear. Only hear me swear Lord 
 God have mercy and give me strength as I swear by my eternal 
 safety, never, of my free will, to taste another drop of the 
 infernal liquor ! There, major there !" 
 
 " An awful oath, Ballon. Rise up, my poor fellow." 
 
 " It s made, Major Willie. It s made. Oh ! Major Willie, 
 won t you trust me now ?" 
 
 " God forbid that I should discourage your efforts for self-re 
 covery. I will trust you, Ballon see that you do not forget 
 your vow." 
 
 " God help and strengthen me to keep it ! and I will keep it, 
 Willie Sinclair as a man that calls upon God to look and 
 watch his proceedings. I m a man, and strong enough for that, 
 or I m carrion, and only fit for the buzzards." 
 
 " It is a solemn covenant, Ballou, that you have made with 
 God" 
 
 " And you ! I know I mean it to* be solemn ! I love liquor, 
 and I ve been easy to be led off by the temptation. But I ve 
 sworn! and now, major, try me. Set me at work try me 
 with a hard service ; I want to be up and doing." 
 
 " Conquer yourself, Ballou, and I will take you to my heart 
 for ever. You are a noble and faithful fellow, and only free 
 yourself from this dangerous habit, and you are worthy of anv 
 man s friendship. Rise, my friend, rise. Believe me, I felt as 
 much pain at the thought of parting with you, as I ever felt or 
 any occasion in iny life." 
 
246 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 The fellow rose from the floor, brushed the tears hastily from 
 his eyes, and sobbed : 
 
 " Try me again, major try me, Willie Sinclair and le 
 me make myself respectable again. I want to be at work !" 
 
 " You must go now, Ballou, and snatch a few hours of sleep 
 Rest yourself at all events, as well as you can. With the morn 
 ing you shall have work the very sort that you require." 
 
 " What is it, major ] Teli me now that I may think over it 
 to-night. I do all my thinking at night when I m a-bed I 
 lo." 
 
 "It is to take the trail of Devil Dick, and his companions 
 the Trailer and the Serpent. They are, no doubt, all herded 
 together in the Santee swamp ; and too near us to suffer us to 
 sleep quietly. Our dragoons may rout them out to-morrow, 
 as they have work to do in that quarter in the very neigh 
 borhood, probably, where they all harbor. Our men will hardly 
 find them, as they will have something better to do than to seek 
 them. They will skulk rather than fly, for I feel sure that their 
 aim is the sacking of the Barony. They know the range as 
 well as you and I, and will hang about us, and lie snug till we 
 are off. Then they will probably up and follow ; take the road 
 after us, or make a second attempt on the Barony. Now, do 
 you see what is the work which you might make profitable ?" 
 
 " I think I do ! I do !" 
 
 " We must try and cut off these rascals, if we can do so with 
 out turning directly upon them. It is the work of a scout, 
 rather than of a regiment. But it is not so essential to cut them 
 off, as to cover ourselves. Ballou, I feel that I can trust your 
 honor and fidelity, much more than I can your strength and 
 sobriety. I wish you to cover me. To-morro\v, I separate 
 from the dragoons. I go alone, in disguise, within the pre 
 cincts of an enemy s post." 
 
 " You re not going to Orangeburg, major, are you ?" 
 
 "I am there and the neighborhood." 
 
 " Do you know that Iriglehardt is certainly there ; and he is 
 about as cold, as cunning, and as venomous as a snake in Au 
 gust/ 
 
 " -t know all that ! Know him well. But is his command 
 there ?" 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 
 
 " That I don t learn. But lie was seen there only three days 
 ago." 
 
 " But his mere presence does not make the place a British 
 post." 
 
 " No, sir ; but it is pretty much under British influence." 
 
 " I know that too ; know exactly what I have to fear, and 
 upon whom I may rely ; and I have reason to believe that you 
 are right when you report Inglehardt to be there or in the 
 neighborhood. But the visit must be made. I have much to 
 d^ there, and must see the commissary Travis." 
 
 Don t trust liitn, major. Didn t Bram tell you ] He s an 
 other snake a snake !" 
 
 " I know more than Bram does, and I know Travis. Enough S 
 The matter that I wish you to see to is this : these outlaws 
 are, no doubt, so harbored in the swamp that, as we can not 
 je-ek for and push them, they will be able to see all our opera- 
 ti^- Now, I must separate from the dragoons. These out 
 laws may uCt?ct the movement or not. If they do, seeing me 
 alone, and in disguise, they will be apt to follow, just as the dogs 
 take after the wounded buck, letting the herd run as they please. 
 1 shall have the start of them, but as I shall ride at my leisure, 
 and have occasion to stop here and there, they can readily over 
 haul me, and my notion is " 
 
 " Ah ! I see, sir, you ^yish me to take your trail also your 
 trail ?" 
 
 " Exactly ! Bram will have a similar duty ; both of you will 
 be armed. Where one fails to make a point, the other may be 
 more successful ; you can operate together, and both with me, 
 in any event which needs our united strength ; and finally 
 after you have safely covered me to Orangeburg, you will g^t 
 a dug-out, and keep it hidden in the river swamp just below the 
 landing at Holly-Dale." 
 
 " Travis s place, in the Fork ?" 
 
 " Yes ! Now, Jim Ballou, you see the duty that requires to 
 be done, and can readily determine for yourself how it should 
 be done. I can teach you nothing as a scout. Bram is also 
 good at the business. Have an understanding vith him to 
 night, but, of course, you will work on separate tracks. Prescribe 
 your plan, and he will follow it. I leave the procedure wholly to 
 
248 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 your discretion, having shown you what is to be feared an<J 
 from whom. I must say to you, however, that Hell-fire Dick 
 lias got an increase of force, and may now number four or five, 
 instead of two or three. But these fellows rarely keep all togeth 
 er, long. The division of the plunder commonly scatters them, 
 Remember, however, should you succeed in surprising their, 
 and destroying them, of course, you are still to pursue my track. 
 There may be many such parties on the route, and I shall want 
 you above. One of my scouts reports a small gang of seven, 
 led by Cooper, the fellow who was supposed to have been 1^41 
 for dead by our Travis and Duesto, yet goi> off to the enemy 
 though handcuffed to a dead man." 
 
 " I know ! I know ! Pendarvis was killed outright. I re 
 member all about it all ! and a bolder and blacker villain than 
 Cooper don t trouble the country Don t!" 
 
 " He has been seen within eight days again upon the Belle 
 ville road, as leader of a party of six. He had with him two 
 of the Claytons of St. Mathew s a little red-headed fellow, 
 named Jones, and one Paul Sturner. A week before that his 
 party was twice the number, and he was nearly run down by 
 Captain Rumph s squad. Lieutenant Wannamaker Avas so 
 close as to make a cut at him and wound the quarters of his 
 horse. But he got off with the loss of two of his party, who 
 were cwt down by the troopers. He is a scoundrel of wonderful 
 energies and endurance, and I have reason to think would be 
 especially pleased to find me in his meshes. At all events, there 
 will be enough to tax all your vigilance, even if you succeed in 
 throwing out or destroying this Hell-fire Dick and his party. 
 Am I fully understood, Ballon ?" 
 
 " Yes, Major Willie and you will fully trust me ] You will !" 
 
 " I will ! Bring up Bram that I may give him his lesson in 
 your presence." 
 
 We need not pursue this conference further. Enough that 
 all the parties received their instructions, and retired for the 
 night, At dawn, the grounds were empty Willie Sinclair 
 Peyre St. Julien, the dragoons all were gone ; but the wake 
 ful eyes of Carrie Sinclair had witnessed their departure, and 
 her waving hands and murmured prayer had blessed theii 
 progress. 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 249 
 
 What was that progress ? We must report it briefly. Tt was 
 to carry off all the cattle, stock of every kind, grain ana forage, 
 that could be gleaned from the plantations along the iSantec in 
 this particular precinct. The boats of Marion were waiting 
 om morning to night the dragoons were busy ; and corn and 
 fodder, and cattle, which had been hitherto left to the doubtful 
 charge of Master Pete Blodgit, were withdrawn from his to a 
 safer keeping. Blodgit, himself, kept out of the way in the 
 woods, while Sinclair and the dragoons were on the place. He 
 had found a hiding-place with the outlaws, leav *ig his mother 
 to propitiate the anger of their late patron, fi&e whined at 
 him for pity, and his mercy allowed her jo remain in the cot 
 tage, the shelter of which her criminal hypocrisy had so com 
 pletely forfeited. It was at sunset, and when the day s work 
 was nearly done, that Sinclair and St. Julien met in conference. 
 A harsher duty awaited the latter and found him reluctant. 
 
 " You are now, Peyre, to carry off all the stock, except brood- 
 hogs, and cows with calves, from the Sinclair Barony." 
 
 " How, Willie, can I do that ?" 
 
 " It must be done, Peyre ; you can not distinguish between 
 whigs and loyalists, and favor the latter. It must be done. 
 We must leave neither hair nor hide to the enemy. But you 
 need not be seen in the business. I have prepared Benny 
 Bowlegs, the driver, for what he has to expect and to do, and 
 he is ready to father the offence upon the tories. You will, 
 however, give him an acknowledgment of what you take, and 
 he will convey it to my sister. Your paper will establish a 
 claim upon government, should it ever reach security and per 
 manence. One more matter. I fear for the safety of the 
 Barony. You will leave a corporal s guard on the place 
 known only to Benny in close shelter in the swamp. He 
 will provision it. Instruct your officer to be ready at call, to 
 defend or protect the family from these marauders. They will 
 hardly need to stay a week. With the rest of your command, 
 this duty done and that should be in two days more then, 
 giving a wide berth to Orangeburg, sweep up by Rumph s at 
 Turkey hil , and cross the North Kdisto at Shilling s ; put your 
 self in the thickets by Bull-fight pond, and wait my message, 
 either by Ballon r Brain. Of course, you will have your scout* 
 
250 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 and watchful, down even to the bridge at Orangeburg 
 It te possible that I may have some trouble, as I have certain!} 
 some risks at Orangeburg and the neighborhood, for ray time 
 will be divided between Travis s plantation and tut village 
 Above all, have two or three expert fellows for ever with an eye 
 on Travis s. If Inglehardt be about, the utmost vigilance is 
 necessary." 
 
 Fully understanding each other, the major parted with 
 his fri p "i at nightfall. He went alone, still in the disguise of 
 a back >/oodsman, and with hair and beard not his own. His 
 pistols were a/- hand, and he were a plain basket-hilted cut-and- 
 thrust at his side a weapon in the use of which he excelled 
 having taken lessons from the Italian, Baldachezzo, who, a 
 little while before the war, had been a famous teacher of the 
 young gentry of the Oarolinas. Sinclair sped away with confi 
 dence and -vith seeming security ; and so, at the same time, did 
 St. Julien with his troop, pushing down to the river some six 
 miles off, where one party crossed with the boats and forage, and 
 the other bivouacked in the swamp. 
 
 Night had fallen. The woods were silent. For three miles 
 from the cottage of Blodgit, on either hand, they showed no 
 signs of life for several hours. But there was life, nevertheless 
 human life, wakeful, watchful, and close harboring within Vnc 
 immediate precincts of the cottage. Blodgit, we may mention. 
 had not shown himself to any one of the foragers; and, this. 
 perhaps, had tended somewhat to make his mother s plea to Sin 
 clair successful. He had left the Barony with the full purpose 
 of expelling the wretched old woman, taking from her the ne 
 gro-girl whom his sister had lent her, and burning the hovel to 
 the ground. But he had relented in his sterner purpose, as 
 he beheld the miserable condition of the beldam. Her real 
 poverty and wretchedness saved her from the proper punish 
 ment of her guilt. He gave her fifty bushels of corn for her 
 own support, leaving it to her son, who had the fruitful abilities 
 of the rogue, to provide her with the bacon which he knew lie 
 could always find. He left nothing for him, and unless he used 
 the corn allotted for his mother, there was no provision made 
 for his own horse or any other. 
 
 But after a few hours had elapsed from the departure of tlie 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 2o| 
 
 troopers the senses of both Ballon and Bram, closely harbored 
 in concealing thickets, though apart, within a quarter of a mile 
 of the cottage, were saluted with the faint blasts of a common 
 horn. They pricked up their ears as they heard, and each 
 prepared after the manner of the scout, to make himsel/ 
 Acquainted with the source of signal. Ballou was now on his 
 good behavior. A double duty was in fact before him. H# 
 was to approve himself capable of abstinence, a virtue which 
 he had r ot before affected ; and to exercise his best scouting ca 
 pacities, for which his credit was already great. Except Jack 
 Bannistt r of the Congarees, a noble yeoman of the whig side, 
 and one Watson Gray, a tory, Jim Ballou was the most famous 
 scout of all the Santee region. That any exception could be 
 made, in conferring this rank upon him, had been due to his 
 former sottishness. He was now to recover ground, and reas 
 sert his superior merits. He determined, accordingly, to em 
 ploy all his energies, and not mistake a single point in the game. 
 The first step, he felt when he heard the horn and the replies 
 to it, which followed shortly after, had been successfully taken. 
 All the sounds that reached him were from below none were 
 from the rear no enemy lay behind him, and he could thus 
 advance in security. To feel Ids way safely forward, is the 
 great necessity for a scout. This he can only do when assured 
 that he is not followed. His game is to take the trail after oth 
 ers ; and, lying perdu, Ballou waited for other signals. 
 
 These were soon repeated, and this time from the direction 
 of Blodgit s cottage. They were answered more distinctly from 
 below three several blasts. Between the woods which he and 
 Bram occupied, and those whence the signals came, there ran 
 a broad wagon-trace down to the river s landing. This trace 
 intersected the main road within a few yards of the spot where 
 Jie cottage stood. A third blast, more li ely and thrice repeated, 
 from this latter precinct, called for furtl er replies, which Ballou 
 -vas pleased to perceive were much nearer at hand. He felt 
 that he should soon be enabled to pick his way out, and, per 
 haps, be permitted to see, himself unseen, the parties who found 
 it thus necessary to commune together. Let us approach the 
 place of meeting also. 
 
 Among the oaks directly in front of his cottage, stood Pete 
 
UOZ THE FGRAYEKS. 
 
 Blodgit, waiting for the outlaws whom he had summoned. They 
 had helped to ruin him; he owed them no love; but he was a 
 wretched dependant upon others for protection, and he had cut 
 himself off from better associates. With the exception of the 
 small amount in Spanish milled dollars, which he had succeeded 
 in withholding from WLUie Sinclair, at their late settlement, 
 and which his mother held with the tenacious fingers of avaric, 
 he had not a single sixpence. The means of farther gains, 
 from the same source, had been swept away that day by the 
 foragers he had seen the whole procedure from a familiar 
 place of concealment ; and Dick of Tophet, his ally, had torn 
 away his horse with violence. He was in no mood to love 
 those who had thus caused him to lose, and had besides robbed 
 him ; but he had no alternative. Cut off from the succor of 
 the good, the weak who are also vicious have no refuge but with 
 the wicked ! The milk of Blodgit s bosom was soured and em 
 bittered ; but his blood was too feeble in its rush to suffer him 
 to show the hate and vexation which he felt. He had to use 
 his own expressive phraseology "to grin and bear it!" 
 
 He was not long alone, being soon joined by the Trailer, 
 Ralph Branson. His nom de guerre, we may remark, was due 
 also to his good reputation as a scout. He was considered a 
 sure trailer, though held to be somewhat slow. The qualities 
 ot men and dogs are graduated and qualified in like manner. 
 The Trailer came on foot, as did the others subsequently. 
 They had hidden their horses in the woods. 
 
 -" Nobody yit up but me, Pete ?" 
 
 " You re the first. But I reckon it s the Sarpent that will be 
 next. He was more up upon the hill. The farthest horn must 
 ha been Devil Dick s." 
 
 " Yes, and he ll git here slow ; for his scalds ain t any the 
 better for his hard run to-day." 
 
 " I m afear d he s a most knocked up my critter." 
 
 "Well, you needn t care about that, sence thyars no chaince 
 that you ll ever git her agin, onless Dick happens to see that 
 he kin cross a better. He won t keep your n a bit longer than 
 that" 
 
 " It s mighty hard that I should lose my critter, and me a 
 lame pusson too. 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL 252 
 
 "Oh! Lord, ef that was the only hardship flint one, had tc 
 grin under, the world would be a comfortable one enough for a 
 poor man. But I reckon Sinclair s carried cff cverj -. .hin^ frory 
 you; I cotched a sight or two of the transaction tha* made me 
 jubous that you d have nothing left better thai? acorns anrl mne- 
 t.ops for man and beast." 
 
 "And you re right! He s swept <ff corn and fodder nogR 
 . in.l cattle, everything lie could carry, and whar the bread and 
 meat is to come from the Lord only kin tell." 
 
 " It s mighty hard and cruel that a poor man should ne 
 robbed of all h-is airnings and support." 
 
 " And he a lame pusson too, and with a poor old sick moth 
 er, with the rheurnatiz so bad that it would be a God s marcy 
 ef she was safe in tiie ground." 
 
 " Yes, it s mighty hard, Pete. A poor man has no chaince 
 with these rich harrystocrats, as Devil Dick calls cm." 
 
 And the two very soon succeeded in persuading themselves 
 and one another, that the whole world was leagued in the cruel 
 purpose to destroy them and starve them out, and rob them of 
 their rights and all the bounties of earth and heaven. It is cu 
 rious with what grateful logic the scoundrel will convince him 
 self that he is a victim to the grossest wrongs on the part of the 
 villanously virtuous. But the dialogue was at I engtli arrested 
 by the arrival of Brydone " the Serpent," and, after a while, 
 Devil Dick himself appeared, accompanied by Jack Halliday, 
 who was slightly wounded. 
 
 " Let s get in to your hole, Pete Blodgit," cried Dick of To- 
 phet. "I m a wanting help from the hands of your blessed 
 mammy, who loves me as the devil loves the angel Gabriel. 
 My bark is all in a blister ; and my ankles and wrists in a blaze. 
 Lord ! I could have wished almost that I had been hung up 
 sooner than suffer from this fire all over. Come, open, Pete; I 
 must git some salves and intments on my back, and I must 
 have a shirt and jacket." 
 
 Dick ruled, and they entered the house together. They 
 found Mother Blodgit, by the fire, rocking to and fro sulkily, 
 and pomewhat in the way. She was evidently not pleased with 
 the turn which atfairs had taken, though as yet she did not 
 know the worst. Her little negro had reported the removal by 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 the dragoons, of all the corn, fodder, and stock. She had heard, 
 too, a. sharp and stern lesson from the lips of Sinclair, to which 
 she. could oppose no answer ; and he had forborne to tell her all he 
 knew. He had, however, shown her that he was aware of the 
 Spanish dollars in her possession, but had concluded by bestow 
 ing tnem upon her ; a degree of generosity for which she pro 
 fessed herself thankful, though she cursed him in her heart 
 wh;le speaking. The poor, when vicious, are usually ungrate 
 ful ; and a single boon withheld makes them forgetful of the 
 thousand favors which have been previously bestowed upon 
 them. But, as yet, she did not know that her son was horse 
 less that he had been robbed of his beast by the very out 
 law who had helped to ruin him, and for whom he had done 
 and sacrificed so much. Had she known, she would scarcely 
 have found the desired ointments for the scorched back of Devil 
 Dick would scarcely have suffered her son to bestow upon 
 the ruffian one of his best shirts and jackets. As it was, she 
 suffered these sacrifices unwillingly ; and brought forth her oils 
 and ointments, without blessing or consecrating them lovingly 
 to the work of healing. We need not detail the processes by 
 which Dick of Tophet was rendered easier in the flesh, and 
 habited anew in comfortable garments. The service was ren 
 dered after a fashion ; and, cursing and crying alternately, as 
 Ehe saw the jug of Jamaica brought out from its covert, the old 
 woman withdrew to her chamber, whence her grunts arose 
 occasionally to relieve the monotony of the conversation, which 
 took place among the outlaws. 
 
 Once more at ease, unpursued, and with strong drink before 
 them, the goodly company began to go over the proceedings of 
 the day. We, who know pretty much what these were, need 
 not follow them in their commentary. We shall only note such 
 portions of their dialogue as may be suggestive of the clues 
 to such portions of this true history as are not yet in our 
 hands. 
 
 " Well, they ve carried off all your corn and fodder, hogs and 
 cattle, Pete, and by this time they have em all across the river. 
 The Sarpent tells me that Stuttering Pete* [HorryJ has been 
 doing the same business below, as fur down as Nelson s. Now 
 the questioi is, what does this mean { To my thinking ir means 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TEAIL. 255 
 
 that we re to have both armies down upon us in mighty little 
 time." 
 
 " You think so, Dick ? " 
 
 "I m pretty sure of it. But I don t see what we re to lose 
 by that, for there s always good pickings about the country 
 when the armies are a-coming together. Thar s always so 
 many rich folks flying with their families, and leaving every 
 thing behind them. Now, I rL jest a-waiting to see old Sin 
 clair drivin off from that Bairony. He ll not be able to carry 
 off everything, not by hafe, and ef I don t gut it, and gut him 
 too, and his d d eternal son, the major, at the first chaince, 
 then there s no sense in calling me Hell-fire Dick any 
 longer." 
 
 "Well, how are we to do now ? " 
 
 "Thar s nothing to be done, jest now, while Willie Sinclair s 
 down at the Bairony, and with such a lot of dragoons." 
 
 "But them dragoons, I reckon, will cross the river, as soon 
 as they ve swept the plantations on this side. They re pretty 
 quick at the work, and clean out a farm in mighty short 
 order. Twont be two days, I reckon, before they ll finish that 
 job." 
 
 "Air we safe hyar now, where we air ? " said Dick. 
 
 "I reckon," said the Trailer. "I trailed St. Julien and his 
 dragoons down to the river. They ve got off hafe of them, and 
 t other hafe has fires lighted, and are camped for the night. 
 Some of them air in the boats. They re now a good six miles 
 off, and mighty tired. But, look you, Willie Sinclair ain t with 
 the dragoons." 
 
 "How! not with the dragoons? Why, how s that, when 
 he s been with em all day, directing and giving orders, and 
 pushing after men and boats, and working jest as hard as 
 any." 
 
 "I know that; but he worn t with them when the dragoons 
 marched down to the river, at sunset. I was in a harricane thick, 
 on the butt eend of an almighty big tree, and safe kivered, and I 
 could see every man as he filed down across the sandy run. Willie 
 Sinclair worn t with em, I tell you." 
 
 " Then he s gone back to the Bairony ! I wonder ef he took any 
 of the dragoons with him ? " 
 
256 THE FOBAYERS. 
 
 "I reckon not! I didn t count em, but I didn t miss any. Ef 
 he took any, it couldn t be more than two or three. But I don t 
 think he took any." 
 
 " Ef so, now would be the time to make a dash at the Bairony. 
 They wouldn t look for us to-night." 
 
 "No? But after the work we ve had, which of us is good for 
 anything like a dash." 
 
 "Ah ! Ef tworn t for this cussed scalding that I ve got," 
 groaned Dick of Tophet, writhing in his seat, " I d show you how 
 to make a dash. But you re right. Nothing s to be done to-night. 
 We must git some sleep and some strength ; and first for the strength, 
 Blodgit, we must get some supper." 
 
 "I don t knowwhar you re to git it. I reckon thar s nothing 
 better than dry meal in the house." 
 
 " Find something better, Pete, or we ll make a meal of you. Be 
 stirring. I m a famishing varmint." 
 
 Dick of Tophet was a person with whom Blodgit did not dare to 
 trifle, and he proceeded in the search for something which would 
 pacify the "varmint." At that moment the sounds of a horse s 
 tread, at full gallop, were heard. It startled other ears than those of 
 the outlaws, and Ballou and Brain, our two scouts, who had been 
 peering with all their eyes through the logs of the cottage, were fain 
 to steal off silently into the bushes, which they did in safety. A 
 few moments after, the horseman thundered at the door. To the 
 demand "Who s that ? " the answer was prompt " Eyes right ! "- 
 a pass-phrase evidently which had been previously agreed on. " It 
 is Ben Nelson," said the Trailer, and the door was opened to the 
 newcomer. 
 
 "Well, whar have you been, all this time I wonder ! We had 
 a most gin you up for lost." 
 
 "I wasn t lost, but took the road, which was pretty nigh to me, 
 when the dragoons made the dash." 
 
 The account of the fellow, explaining his escape, was a confused 
 one. It was felt to be so by the party. 
 
 " The fact is," said Devil Dick, "you got scared a little sooner, 
 Ben Nelson, than anybody else. But the scare seems to have helped 
 you to a safe road. What hev you to report ? " 
 " Why, nothing much." 
 "Whar did you hide?" 
 
ttCOUT AGAINST SCOTT? TAKING TRAIL. 257 
 
 * itross the road, \u a thick bay a leetle this side of the day 
 rfTL" 
 
 " I know the place. 
 
 I fastened tlie horse in tli.e hollow, am? t reeped out to the 
 roadside when the sun was a-setting; but nt. thing was io be see 
 except Dne man in a common homespun hunting-si irt. He rode 
 by, and he had an uncommon fine beast." 
 
 " Ha ! what sort of beast ?" 
 
 "Powerful, strong, and big, a most glorious black, black 
 without a spot." 
 
 " Yes, a blaze on his right shoulder." 
 
 " Mout be ! I couldn t sec on that side, he guine up, and I 
 on the left side of the road." 
 
 " It is Willie Sinclair, by the powers, and he goes alone 1 
 He s for the Bairony, or further on. We must see in the morn 
 ing. I m the man to take that scent ! Now. look you, boys, 
 here s the way the cat must jump. We must gut that Bairony. 
 Now s the time, I reckon, when these fellows of St. Julien are 
 crossing to t other side, and before the two armies gits down. It s 
 a bad sign for us, I m a thinking, them two armies coming down 
 It s a sign that Lord Rawdon ain t able to hold his hand with 
 Greene. We must be making our market while we kin. I rn 
 for gutting that Bairony ; but I m for taking the trail of Willie 
 Sinclair at all resks. I owe him a knife," and Dick of Tophet 
 displayed the carving-knife which he had caught up in his mo 
 ment of flight. " Two or three of you, must scout day and night 
 about the Bairony till you find the const is clear then put in 
 and pull out. We ll be ready, I reckon, when the time comes. 
 You, Skin- the- Serpent, with Jack Halliday and Ben Nelson 
 can take this business on your shoulders. The Trailer and 
 me will take after Willie Sinclair. I kin guess jist wbar he s a 
 guine. He s guine to sneak after old Travis s da ter at Holly- 
 Daie. He s been after her before. Ef t ain t for that, wh?t 
 would he be in a disguise about ? in a homespun split shirt, 
 and not in his uniform ; and then witK his great beard and 
 whiskers which don t belong to his face at all. He s after that 
 al, mark what I m a-saying." 
 
 " But what s it to u* ef he is ? What kin wo git by taking 
 krail of him ?" 
 
> THE FORATER3. 
 
 -v 
 
 "I kill git my rvei-ge out of his heart s blood !" a 
 D : ck of Tophet fiercely; "but something more. Vt hat s IK? 
 done with them hundred guineas that he tuk from poor j. et-? 
 Blodgit 1 I reckon he s got hafe of em in his belt, and to ther 
 hafe he s left at the Bairony. So, you see, ef we plays out 
 trumps, wo stands a chaince, all of us, of picking up gouldcn 
 stakes. 
 
 Dick tiie Devil, was apt to verify his proper claim to the 
 title, by finally forcing his own will upon those with whom he 
 associated. It was settled that, with the dawn, the party should 
 livide, as he had indicated. The proceedings of both division* 
 were arranged at the sitting. It is needless to say that the ears 
 of Ballon and Bram, drank in all the particulars of the ar 
 rangement, since the outlaws, apprehending no listeners, spoke 
 in their ordinary tones of voice. Our scouts listened and watched 
 to the last moment, when, after supping, and repeatedly drink 
 ing, tho conspirators stretched themselves out upon the floor : 
 satisfied that they were in no danger themselves, and with their 
 horses hidden in the thicket. But hours, had flitted by with 
 noiseless rapidity before this was the case the night wa 
 waning toward day the moon was down the stars wheeling 
 more rapidly from sight. The cool breezes of the morning wer-.i 
 beginning to sough and swell through the forest. Ballou and 
 Bram, weary with the protracted watch of day and night, turned 
 away from the hovel and slowly passed into cover. Not a word 
 was spoken between them till they had left the cottage half a 
 mile behind them. Then Ballou said : 
 
 " Brain, it s mighty hard that we should leave those scamp* 
 to a quiet sleep ; but it s too late now to get down to the dra 
 goons and bring any of them up ; and I am scarcely able to lift 
 one leg after another scarcely one after another." 
 
 " An dis nigger ain t able to lift he body on he legs ! I mub* 
 hab res , Jim Ballou I mus hab my sleep." 
 
 "It s a good six miles to the river then we d have to huiii 
 up the camp, for they hide close, and then why t would b* 
 broad daylight long before we cculd get back broad daylight 
 Bram, one good common sense rule for a good scout is never t; 
 break down. We must let these fellows have theii chance - 
 l ct (. in have their chance-" 
 
SCOUT AGAINST SCOUT TAKING TRAIL. 259 
 
 "Da s jest wha I was finking let de dibbil liab he swing, tell 
 we can jest put out ban and grab em/ 
 
 " Ay, till we can make him swing make him swing. But here 
 I lie for the present. Let s have your bag, Brain, and see if we can t 
 eat a little only a little. That ham bone has something on it still 
 something still ! " 
 
 " Mighty close de knuckle, I tells you," answered Bram, bringing 
 forth the remnants from their dinner. 
 
 "Bram," said Ballou, eating vigorously, and speaking with a 
 mouth full "4o-morrow, by peep of day, you must go down to the 
 camp and let Captain St. Julien know what we heard about the 
 attack on the Barony. He can trap those three fellows if he pleases 
 if he pleases ; and he does please, I m pretty sure ! Meanwhile, 
 I ll take the trail after Devil Dick. You can take a short cut 
 through the woods and join me above ; I ll break a green bush and 
 throw it, with the stem down the road, every now and then, so that 
 you ll know whether I ve passed or not passed or not I You 
 hear ? " 
 
 "Iyer." 
 
 "Very good! But to-night we must separate. Your horse 
 is already in the right place, as you re to canter down to the 
 river, but I must put mine on t other side of the main road, 
 above, so that I may get a good look at them as they pass. I ll 
 hide the horse deep, so that they can t hear him whinny 
 -whinny and I ll sleep within ear-shot of the road my 
 self." 
 
 " But lie close, Jim Ballou." 
 
 "To be sure ! I shan t be in their way, and that s the reason I 
 shall cross the road to-night. If I were to hide in these thickets, 
 why, they might cut through and come upon me, and that wouldn t 
 be so pleasant not so pleasant, Bram." 
 
 " Mighty onpleasant ! " 
 
 " Bram ! I ve sworn a most stupendous oath ! " 
 
 " Ki ! wha for you do sich ting ? " 
 
 " Against the flesh and the devil Bram. I had to swear to make 
 myself strong, and I ll keep that oath, too, Bram though it s 
 against a good spirit. Did you notice, Bram, how these fellows 
 swallowed down that rum. Do you think they relished it I 
 relished it, Braa> 9 " 
 
260 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "Don t t ink bout it, Ballou. I knows dey relishes um better 
 dan dey own souls." 
 
 "I m afraid, Bram, I do too. I wished for some of that 
 Jamaica, Bram wish for it now. But I wouldn t touch a drop 
 of it, Bram, to save you from the gallows from the gallows 
 Bram ! " 
 
 " Ki ! you swear gin de rum, Ballou ! " 
 
 " As if were the devil himself, Bram ! " 
 
 " Nebber git me to swear sich foolish oat as dat. Rum is good 
 for de healt and sperrit ob black pusson." 
 
 " It will carry you to hell, Bram." 
 
 " But in a mos heabbenly way, Ballou." 
 
 "Ah ! don t I know it, and isn t that the devil s secret, Bram 
 the very devil s secret ? But we must part, old fellow part. You 
 must be oil at day-peep. Can you wake ? " 
 
 " Kin wake whenebber I please, when I aint been tosticated de 
 night before." 
 
 " Ah ! you see how the devil works through rum. But I ve 
 sworn against it sworn it is an oath, Bram. And I swear again. 
 Be a witness. Every witness I have helps my strength." 
 
 And he knelt upon the turf, crossed his hands, and repeated the 
 oath he made before Sinclair. 
 
 "Look yer, Mass Jim Ballou, tek care ob you se f now. I tell 
 you, man dis is de night-time, pass de middle o de night getting 
 on to day mighty fast, and der s anoder one a-hearing you, sides 
 Bram." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " De bressed Lord God, dat s jest now a-looking out pon we two 
 poor sinners from Heabben." 
 
 " It is true true ! God is my witaess ! " said Ballou, in tones as 
 solemn as those of the negro. 
 
 " Member now, man," said Bram " member now! ef you 
 breaks dat oat ! " 
 
 " God help me ! good night, Bram." 
 
THE SCE^E CHANGES KEW PARTIES. 261 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 THE SCENE CHANGES NEW PARTIES. 
 
 WE are to suppose, for the present, that our scouts, on both sides, 
 are equally prepared and willing to do the duties agreed upon and 
 assigned them ; that one set of the outlaws are to haunt the Barony, 
 and watch for their chance, and take advantage of it ; that Dick of 
 Tophet, with the Trailer, his associate, is to "take the road" of Sin 
 clair ; and that these latter, in return, are to be followed by Ballou 
 and Brani, watchful of their chances also, and specially pledged to 
 see that their superior suffers no harm. We are to suppose, farther, 
 that, for the performance of these several duties, the several parties 
 are each excellent in his way ; and that there are to be fruits, grow 
 ing out of the tillage which they are to undertake, the quality of 
 which affected as all tillage is apt to be by the sort of seasons which 
 the work enjoys, may be of serious importance to all of these parties 
 for good or evil. With these points understood, we will leave them 
 for a while, to operate secretly, while we bestow our attention, for a 
 brief space, upon Willie Sinclair, whose movements are destined to 
 bring us to the acquaintance of other parties not yet present in our 
 action. 
 
 The guerrilla, or partisan warfare, is necessarily one which can 
 only be characteristic of a very thinly-settled country one of great 
 intricacies of swamp, forest, or mountain. It involves from this 
 and the tributary causes, the necessity for a great variety of duties ; 
 the warrior becoming in turn, the scout, the spy, the strategist, as 
 well as the mere man-at-arms and prize-fighter. We may gather from 
 what we have shown already that Willie Sinclair had, besides been re 
 cently required by ths nature of the service, to play the politician as well 
 as spy. He has been actually within the garrisoned city of Charleston 
 
2C2 THE FORAYER3. 
 
 garrisoned by a strong force of regulars Li the bauds of 
 tbe enemy, to be detected by whom was sure to be followed by 
 short-shrift and sudden cord or shot. Yet he had lain there in 
 close concealment, and in close conference all the while with 
 leading citizens, for no less than three days. His emissaries, 
 meanwhile, had been busy in the parishes along the southern 
 seaboard, operating as far as Savannah, and even within the 
 lines of the garrison that city being also a stronghold of the 
 British. The results, of great interest and value, contemplating 
 a general rising, which should include both these termini, were 
 an within his bosom, matter of life and death, upon which, in 
 some degree, the fate of the war in Carolina it s prolongation 
 certainly would greatly depend. We are not, therefore, to 
 feel any surprise to find Willie Sinclair taking the utmost pre 
 cautions for the safety of his person, as he pursues his way 
 toward the village of Orangeburg, a post of rest for the British, 
 commonly garrisoned by their troops, but at this juncture sup- 
 |K>t>ul to be entirely free of their presence, in consequence of 
 no drafts which Lord Rawdon had been compelled to make 
 pon all his garrisoned places, in order to command resources 
 sufficiently large to take the field against the regular army of 
 Greene. Sinclair had nothing, accordingly, to apprehend from 
 this source for a few days, at least and his caution was 
 only to be exercised against small bodies of mounted tories, 
 riflemen, or cavalry, such as were commanded by native par 
 tisan rangers, of whom Richard Inglehardt, a person of whom 
 we have had occasion to speak more than once, but whom we 
 have not yet had an opportunity of introducing to our readers, 
 was a very favorable specimen. Now, it was known that, 
 though somewhere about the Edisto, and in the precincts of 
 Orangeburg, Captain Inglehardt had none of his troop with 
 him. A wound in the arm, which had disabled him from active 
 service, had temporarily deprived him of his command which 
 was operating with Rawdon s cavalry an arm in which the 
 British general was weak on the flanks of his army, scouting, 
 foraging, and doing the usual duties of cavalry, though really 
 mounted-riflemen. Still Inglehardt, it was also known, was i?ot 
 sufficiently an invalid to be rendered idle of necessity, and it 
 was understood that he had been doing all the recruiting which 
 
THE SCENE CHANGES NEW PARTIES. 263 
 
 was possible to him, within a limited range along the Edisto 
 What his success had been in this service whether he had secured 
 few or many recruits was a matter wholly unknown to Sinclair, 
 and rendered the utmost care necessary, on his part, in making his 
 approaches to the enemy s ground. He pursued, for this reason, 
 somewhat circuitous route ; and, stopping at Rumph s place, on 
 Turkey Hill, to leave a whispered message with a faithful negro, for 
 the ears of his master, with which the latter instantly "put out" 
 knowing very certainly where to find him Sinclair resumed his 
 progress, and, riding at his leisure, contrived to put himself in 
 the cover of the Cawcaw swamp, a tributary of the Edisto, and 
 within a mile of Oraugcburg, just after night had settled down 
 upon the forest. Here he fastened his horse, hiding him away 
 in a thicket which was not easily penetrable, and with pistols 
 carefully reprimed, and his sword and knife convenient to his 
 clutch, he took his way out and upward, making fearlessly for the 
 village. 
 
 The pretty little hamlet of Orangeburg, though so situated 
 as to constitute an important depot and port of rest and watch 
 during the existing war and the uses of which, in the same 
 way, had been exercised in frequent colonial periods was yet, 
 at the time of which we write, a very small settlement, number 
 ing somewhat less than two hundred inhabitants, white and 
 black, in very equal numbers. The village lies along the banks 
 of the North Edisto, half a mile from the river. It is neatly 
 laid out, with some regard to regularity, and contained in 1781 
 several very decent dwellings, according to the notions of that 
 day, and boasted of several well-bred and polished inhabitants, 
 some of whom were comparatively wealthy. The buildings 
 were usually of small size, seldom exceeding two stories, rooms 
 and chambers being on a contracted scale, as is still the case 
 mostly in the southern dwellings of the forest-country. There 
 were two taverns, and perhaps as many lodging-houses for 
 more private accommodation. A proof of the progress of civ 
 ilization, the jail was one of ample dimensions and adequate 
 strength, and so located as, in the event of necessity, to become 
 a citadel, overawing the settlement. It had been already used 
 for this purpose by the British. There was one great fabric 
 besides- a sort of bazar, the property of good old Christopher 
 
264 THE FORAYEIIS. 
 
 Rowe, formerly an Indian lighter; in letter periods u tradei 
 with the Red-men, who were wont to assemble in great num 
 bers, Catawbas and Congarees, at his dwelling the bazar in 
 question which stood on the angle of a square at the lower 
 entrance of the village. Here he accumulated suck stores as 
 the Red-men craved, and received in return their furs and pel 
 tries. Here he had amassed a considerable fortune, retiring 1 
 from war, if not from trade, and holomg a position, from age- 
 and past performances, which suffered him, in his latter days, 
 to g unscathed by either party during the progress of the 
 Revolutionary feud. But, nearly down to this period, tnc In 
 dian bazar of the old trader was usually thronged witli his 
 wild visitors, to the gratification of the lads of Edisto. Htuv. 
 under the exciting influence of the strong waters which they 
 too " parlously" loved, they danced and junketed after their 
 grotesque fashion; their rude sports sometimes proving quite 
 as troublesome to their more civilized neighbors the boys ex- 
 cepted as they were grateful to themselves. But Kit Rowe, 
 as he was more familiarly known in the precinct, was well 
 aware of the processes by which to tame their humors, and 
 when a quiet suggestion, or an adroit diversion, failed to bring 
 them to order, he did not scruple to soothe them down with an 
 .oaken towel a sort of rule in which the old soldier had no 
 little faith. He had learned excellent lessons of discipline, par 
 ticularly among the Red-men, from frequent service in the old 
 French and Indian wars along the borders of the Carolinas and 
 Virginia a region which admirably trained the young colon 
 ists of the south for the great contest which was even then in 
 preparation with the mother-country. His commission in the 
 regiment of foot, led by Colonel John Chevillette, is still extant 
 bearing the date of 1755, and the signature of Governor Glenn. 
 a civilian, whose ambition it was to make a military figure, with 
 out the adequate bone and muscle for military boots. But all 
 this is digressive, particularly as our veteran has retired equal- 
 ry from war and trade, and, at the period of our story, was in 
 the enjoyment of a tolerable degree of repose as much as civil 
 war can possibly allow under his own vine and fig-tree. Hit- 
 dwelling, one of size as we have said, with sundry warehouses 
 contiguous, was now listinguished by as great a degree of quiet 
 
THE SCENE CHANGES NEW PARTIES. 265 
 
 as it was once noisy with its herds of Red-men. His grounds 
 stretched down in numerous acres from the outskirts of the 
 village to a considerable distance along the river. One half of 
 this territory lay still in the original forest, and a portion of 
 this was swamp, dense, intricate, and overhung with majestic 
 trees, forming a proper place of harborage for the outlying 
 rebel. 
 
 To this harborage, avoiding the village even while compelled 
 to approach it, Willie Sinclair made his way, and when the 
 darkness promised to afford him adequate covering, he stole up 
 to the house of the veteran captain. The latter sat in his 
 piazza a luxury with which no southern householder willingly 
 dispenses, and on the balaster sat a tankard of Jamaica mod 
 erately dashed with simple water. They drank brave draughts 
 in those days, were tough of brain as of muscle, and increased 
 the potency of their potations at those hours when brain and 
 muscle were equally permitted to forego all daily duties. We 
 have reason to think that old Kit Howe s noggin that night at 
 that hour nine, or thereabouts was of especial flavor. We 
 may add, speakiag from authority, that he was already half through 
 it, and was meditating its pleasantness and flavor, in the last toss 
 which he had taken, when his thoughts were Suddenly turned 
 into a new and very different channel, by a peculiar whistle on 
 the edge of the wood, west of the dwelling. 
 
 He knew all about that whistle, and he answered it and, 
 just here, a word or two may not be amiss on the subject of 
 the politics of the people in this section of the state. Of this 
 matter, we have already said something at the opening of this 
 narrative have spoken at large in our historical summary at 
 the beginning ; but it may be proper here to repeat that the 
 Orangeburg precinct was divided in its sentiments with re 
 gard to the Revolution, divided quite as much because of prin 
 ciple as policy that is, so far as the nature of the controversy 
 was understood. But the subject of controversy was not very 
 intelligible to our simple farmers, many of whom were foreigners, 
 speaking no other language than the German, and but few of 
 whom had ever been influenced by any motive prompting the 
 study of this,, or any other topic, the knowledge of which could 
 only be gleaned from books. For that matter, when parties 
 
 12 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 vage, the true j .mts at issue are rarely understood by the people 
 
 - arc rarely nadc before the people by their politicians and, 
 
 perhaps, are scarcely necessary to be made. But this aside 
 < Yrtainly, among our Dutch inhabitants along the Edisto, with 
 Min exceptions, the sentiment, whether for or against the 
 revolutionary movement, was by no means a warm or impas 
 sioned one, except among the young men and they, as usual, 
 \vere governed mostly by association, by feeling, and not by 
 any conviction of absolute duty, the result of a calm discussion, 
 and a full understanding of the controversy. The older inhabi 
 tants accordingly, like Kit Howe, stood aloof from the issue; 
 and as they had already served their time to the public exi 
 gency, their scruples and indifference were regarded with a na 
 tural and proper indulgence. Their sons, however, were not so 
 cautious. They were ts> be found in opposite ranks ; though, as 
 rebellion has always a certain, charm for young blood, the greater 
 number were with the Revolutionists, and this preponderance 
 as naturally determined the predilections of the aged and in 
 firm. Where they could not take the field themselves, they 
 Avorked in secret ; found refuge for the fugitive, tended his hurts, 
 supplied his wants, furnished counsel and intelligence to the 
 more active, and did good service of which tradition alone pre 
 serves the record. Marion encouraged these parties to keep up 
 a friendly intercourse with the British, and reaped the full 
 benefits of this policy. 
 
 But enough of this ! Enough that good old Kit Howe under 
 stood that signal whistle, answered it, and put another tankard 
 in readiness, with the square Dutch pottle, a good half-gallon 
 receptacle, in near neighborhood of the ample cup from which 
 he was imbibing his own potent draughts. 
 
 The coasOvas clear, and Willie Sinclair soon made his ap 
 pearance, and joined the old man in the piazza. 
 
 " Take it strong, major," said the veteran, pointing to the 
 vessel " it s no use to waste good liquor upon thin water; and 
 I reckon you re off a long day s ride. The Jamaica is good; 
 nine year-old in this house." 
 
 " A nod s as good as a wink to a blind horse, captain, and it 
 needs neither nod nor wink to persuade a thirsty one. But our 
 heads are not Quite as strong; now-a-days, as when you lira* 
 
THE SCENE CHANGES NEW PARTIES. 2G7 
 
 studied the laws of drink and discipline, and what do you 
 think of that?" showing the color of the mixture. 
 
 " Too thin for service in hot weather and on a long day s 
 march. " 
 
 " Twill do ! twont exactly make my accounts square with 
 the world, but it will suffice to bring me round. And how do you 
 carry your shoulders, captain, under the heavy burdens of life ?" 
 
 "Why, major, life is not a bad thing if you know how to 
 treat it well. I don t know but I cpuld stand the weight of 
 twenty more years tacked on to mine. I shouldn t object to 
 taking a jump backward twenty years, for I find, major, that 
 the got is not so pleasant as the getting ; and that it s the use 
 of life and not the mere liamng it, that we find all the good of 
 it, and I reckon most of the religion too." 
 
 "Ah! if you were twenty years younger, captain, I might 
 hope to see you on a trail now. Then I d be sure you d take 
 the field with the best of us, and have a famous dash now and 
 then at these British blackguards." 
 
 Yes, Indeed ; and any color of guards. But you re all get 
 ting on very well without me." 
 
 " Ah ! how do you know that ?" 
 
 "I don t know it. Precious little do we get to know in these 
 quiet parts. But I feel it. I judge by feeling pretty much 
 and that brings me intelligence. There s, something in the 
 wind that brings people knowledge of what s going on else 
 where. There s signs that you can t see, that you only feel, 
 that help you to judge of the doings of the world. Now, though 
 I don t hear a syllable of what s doing between the two armies, 
 until its all over, yet I feel sure that the British are agoing 
 backward. It s strange that I feel so certain ; but I ve always 
 found a sort of what do you call it a sort of instinct, that 
 seemed to tell me what was to happen whenever the affair was 
 a great one, and likely to do us hurt, or give us help to please 
 us or to trouble us. And just now, I m as confident of our gains, 
 as if I had it from the best authority. Yet the last news was 
 that Rawdon was driving Greene before him, as a drunken 
 jockey drives a fast trotter ; and didn t I see with my own eyes, 
 his three brand-new Irish regiments that he marched through 
 the village with from Charleston." 
 
268 THE FORAYEES. 
 
 " You are right. We are gaining ground ; and it will not be 
 long before you see his lordship back with his new regiments a 
 little reduced in flesh and spirit and in numbers." 
 
 "They have it hpt enough for long marching now. It s been 
 all day like blazes in the sky." 
 
 " We shall probably have some fighting under your own eyes 
 before long. Greene has turned about upon Rawdon, and is in 
 pursuit of him in turn." 
 
 And a long talk ensued between the two, in which Sinclair 
 recounted all those events, in the relative progress of the two ar 
 mies, which the other had not heard. 
 
 " And now, captain, touching matters more near home. Is 
 Inglehardt still about the village ?" 
 
 " He keeps his quarters there ?" 
 
 " Where? at whose house ? " 
 
 " Widow Bruce s as you might have guessed." 
 "True, so stout a loyalist as she is, with such a profound 
 faith in the graces and virtues of George the Third, must have 
 possessed infinite attractions for so good a subject. But, while 
 I can understand how he should desire to lodge with her, I do 
 not see why she should accommodate him. She is such an aris 
 tocrat that, I fancied, even a good loyalist, unless backed by the 
 prestige of an ancient family, would hardly persuade her to re 
 ceive him. Besides, she s well off, and in receiving lodgers, has 
 usually admitted those only who could assert their dignities with 
 out regard to their merits." 
 
 " Oh ! it s all owing to the times. Everything s in such con 
 fusion now, that people who have got money need friends of all 
 sorts, just to help them to keep it. Widow Bruce is more civil 
 and condescending now than she was, and she takes in the dro 
 ver s son, who is captain of mounted men, and never troubles 
 his pride by telling him how often she has seen his dad, bare 
 legged, driving his steers to market." 
 
 "Has he recovered from his wound ?" 
 
 " Pretty much. It s a little stiffish, I reckon ; but he s able to use 
 it. I saw him not three days ago on horseback, and he used the 
 wounded arm without any trouble that I could see." 
 
 " How has he got on recruiting along the river ?" 
 
 "Well I reckon the chance for him was small. He haint 
 
THE SCENE CHANGES NEW PARTIES. 
 
 picked up many, and the few he s got ar n t of much account. 
 But he s got some, and I reckon he ll keep em about him. If 
 he didn t, there s enough about the village, at times now that 
 he s got over his wounds to make a dash, and carry him off. 
 But don t you risk a good deal, major, to be coming here sin 
 gle-handed, just about this time?" 
 
 "No! I think not. I keep close, trust nobody, feel my way, 
 have weapon ready, and my horse harbors close at hand in the 
 swamp." 
 
 "The famous black! Ah! he s a beauty, and deserves a 
 dragoon s confidence ! But take care ! There s some about 
 Orangeburg that don t love any of your blood, and would make 
 no bones of butchering you, or selling you to Inglehardt, for 
 the weight of one of your buttons in gold. I reckon you are 
 satisfied that Inglehardt would like no better trade than to buy 
 you at any price." 
 
 "Ah ! you think so?" 
 
 Yes, indeed ! If he knows as much as I do if he knew 
 as well as me; how often you get up to Holly-Dale ! " 
 
 "I suspect, my good old friend, that he knows quite enough 
 to feel no good will for me ; I shall accordingly try to keep 
 out of his clutches while I can." 
 
 " But, major, is it not rather a strange way to keep out of his 
 clutches, by coming, as I may say, almost into em ? " 
 
 " No doubt, could he see or suspect my presence." 
 
 "But he s all suspicion, major. He s the coldest, cunningest, 
 slyest, most suspicious person you ever did see, and wonderfully 
 smart. He guesses at a thing sooner than any man I ever 
 knew. And he has his spies all about. And he s merciless 
 when he gets the whit hand of you. Now, there would be no 
 chance for you, if he once had you in his power ; and he ll get you 
 there, as sure as flint and steel, if you trust anything to Captain 
 Travis." 
 
 " That is the chief danger, captain ; and it so happens that I 
 must trust to Travis. I have business with him ; must see him ; 
 must risk something to do so ; and must, in some degree, rely upon 
 his word." 
 
 " Then let me just say one thing ; keep knife and pistols 
 ready when you meet him ; and, at the first wink of mischief 
 
270 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 out with steel and bullet and pitch into him, savage as an In 
 dian when he wants to feel the hair. There s no way else 
 Travis is in and out of the village every day. Take him on 
 the roadside, and when he s had no chance to set his traps for 
 you. That s the way. You can find out if he comes into the 
 village to-morrow. It ll be soon after breakfast if he does. 
 Tli en waylay him and have your talk out in the bushes. I 
 know how you feel toward his; daughter Bertha, and she s a girl 
 that s a sort of beautiful apology for a bad father, but I can t 
 help telling you just what I know is the truth. Beware of the 
 father, whatever you may feel for the child !" 
 
 We need not pursue this conversation, though the par 
 ties did till a tolerably late hour, when Willie Sinclair, in 
 spite of the old man s invitation, took refuge in the swamp 
 with his horse, to whom he carried out an armful of fodder 
 and a sack of corn. We need scarcely state that Kit Howe 
 gave the major a good supper, though at a late hour, which 
 was washed down with a fresh stoup of Jamaica, when the 
 young man was again exhorted to take it. strong, as a security 
 against the night air. We do not say that he neglected the in 
 junction. There were some small matters of business, relating 
 to the war, transacted between them, which do not need more 
 particular mention, and the night had sped on to the small 
 hours ere they separated. At dawn, Willie Sinclair had crossed 
 the river, at the bridge, just below the village, and had p anted 
 himself in waiting, close in the thicket, but near enough to 
 watch the river-road from above, taking Kit Rowe s counsel to 
 intercept Travis without notice, and in a spot where, if his pur 
 poses were treacherous, he could possess no agencies, other 
 his own, for putting them in execution. 
 
COUKSE OF TEUB LOVE." 271 
 
 3 "THE 
 
 f UNIVERSITY 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 " COURSE OP TRUE LOVE." 
 
 " Most acceptably come ! 
 The art of number can not count the hours 
 Thou hast been absent. 1 MIDDLETON. 
 
 THOUGH prepared to wait patiently, for the appearance of the 
 party whom he sought, Willie Sinclair was by no means prepared 
 to wait in vain. But such was his luck on this occasion. Fastening 
 his good steed in the deep thickets which spread between the 
 road and river, he put himself in position, so as to watch the 
 former from a spot where he himself might lie unseen. By nature, 
 he was not a person of very patient temperament. His blood 
 coursed freely and impetuously in his veins. His moods were all 
 ardent. He lived properly in action. But he had somewhat schooled 
 this nature, and partisan warfare is of an admirable sort to assist in 
 the proper training. A few awkward little reverses, some surprises, 
 and narrow escapes, at the beginning of the war, had been of great 
 service to our young major, as to most of the partisan gentry of the 
 country, in curbing their natural impatience of character, and 
 quieting their impulses to more staid paces. Willie Sinclair had 
 learned something of that grand and necessary lesson so essential 
 to all progress and development so particularly essential to success 
 in everything to wait ! 
 
 "Patience and shuffle the cards," he muttered, after he had 
 lingered for an hour in the same spot; and he crossed to the 
 opposite side for relief. But another hour passed unprofitably, 
 and another. The sun, meanwhile, rose high in heaven. The 
 winds were hushed. It was one of those terribly clear days in 
 midsummer, when the sun rules with despotic sway ; when the 
 eye looks up vainly for a friendly cloud to interpose ; when the 
 
2VJ TJES FGRAYEES 
 
 air is glittering with quivering motes, in that incessant motior. 
 which pains the sense to beliold ; and when the brain seems to 
 reel and burn in sympathy with the hot glare and vibratory 
 motion of the firmament. Where Sinclair watched, there was 
 no need of shelter from the sun. Never was guardian shade 
 more sure and solemn, than in those deep thickets. Great stal- 
 \\-nrt pines rose up out of a dense wilderness of undergrowth ; 
 cedars and scrubby oaks a thousand varieties all seemed 
 struggling forward to crowd every interval of space, stretching 
 upward as emulous of every ray of light, while, like the roofs 
 of great cathedrals, of grand and delicate tracery, the broad 
 brandies of the pine stretched overhead, interlaced, linking 
 arms, twining mazily together, and spreading great shields, as 
 it were, above and abroad, so as to deny the smallest shaft of 
 sunlight the privilege to strike below. 
 
 But, if thus sheltered from the glare, the region below was 
 equally sheltered from the breeze. Not a breath could pene 
 trate that sombrous and silent sanctuary. Not a leaf trembled 
 under the pulsing pressure of the zephyr. It grew to be stilling 
 hot, and our lurking major felt it necessary to change his posi 
 tion frequently, to escape the feeling of faintness which became 
 too oppressive for endurance. 
 
 But change of position brought no relief. Even military pa 
 tience could endure it no longer. He had now waited for more 
 than four mortal hours, and in vain. He had seen no human 
 being nay, not even a squirrel. It was a time, it must be re 
 membered, when the condition of the country, under the raven 
 ous consumption of both armies, was approaching famine ; and 
 every beast of the forest, that could be made the prey of hunger, 
 fell a victim to the insatiate appetites of a half-starving popula 
 tion. Squirrels and rabbits are rarely eaten in the south, and 
 they multiply amazingly at ordinary periods. But now, if you 
 beheld a squirrel, he was a disconsolate, wearing mourning foi 
 his tribe! He looked like one who felt his desolation. Yoi 
 might see him at sunset sitting melancholy upon the top of 
 some rotten tree, musing sadly upon the prospect, like Gain; 
 Marius among the ruins of Carthage. We may surely forgive 
 the impatience of our hero, if it grew restiff after four hour* 
 
" COURSE OF TRUE LOVE." 273 
 
 of watch, in such a region, and under such circumstances of heat 
 and solitude. 
 
 Besides, it must not be forgotten that he was but a mile or two 
 from Holly-Dale, and Holly-Dale was the home 01 Bertha Travis 
 that damsel of whom we have heard something already, of whom we 
 shall know more presently, and of whom the memories in the 
 heart and brain of brave Willie Sinclair, were at once perpetually 
 active and deliciously exciting, 
 
 Our major of dragoons was as brave a soldier as ever smiled upon 
 a broadsword; but he was as fond a lover as ever buckled a fair 
 woman, like a belt of beauty, to his bosom. He was not, it is true, 
 a soft sentimental cavalier; but he was an earnest and very passionate 
 one. Love with him was not a mere sentiment. It was a necessity 
 and a life. It was no small trial of his strength to require him to 
 wait and watch for hours when within a few bounds of the home 
 where his beauty harbored; and it was no small sacrifice which he 
 made to patriotic policy, those four hours which he denied to 
 love. 
 
 He could deny the tender interest no longer. Concluding that 
 Captain Travis was not to visit Orangeburg that day, he resolved to 
 seek him at home. He must seek him must meet him that day 
 or the next; and this now seemed the only proper process for doing 
 so, whatever might be the peril which it would involve. 
 
 He felt that Kit Rowe was right. He felt that there was peril. 
 Travis, though the father of Bertha, was not one in whom faith 
 might be put easily. He was a man who notoriously acknowledged 
 no considerations superior to those of self . He was greedy of gain; 
 eager for power, cringing when feeble, despotic when assured and 
 strong; altogether, a man totally deficient in the magnanimous 
 virtues. He was, besides, smooth and subtle; scrupling at no arts, 
 to be secured by no pledges, when he might gratify any of his lead 
 ing passions. Willie Sinclair well knew that there was but one 
 method of securing and making him steadfast; and that was by mak 
 ing it his policy to be so. He fancied that he had the means to do 
 this ; and that, in fact, he had done something toward it 
 already. But for this he never would have periled himself, 
 alone, in the precincts of one bearing such a character, and 
 
 12* 
 
274 THE PRAYERS. 
 
 very well known to be in the actual employment of the British 
 commandant of Charleston. 
 
 But Sinclair dismissed all his doubts as, mounting his horse, 
 he took the way to Holly Dale. 
 
 This beautiful little plantation retreat lay on the west side 
 of the north branch of the river Edisto, but a few miles above 
 Orangeburg. It contained about a thousand acres, somo two 
 hundred of which were in swamp. But a small portion of the 
 tract, speaking comparatively, had been cleared. The produce 
 was corn, indigo, and tobacco, cultivated by some twenty slaves 
 We may here mention, however, that Travis possessed a much 
 larger number of slaves which he had contrived to secrete be 
 yond the Santee, and to cover under the name of his wife s sis 
 ter an old maid in whom he entertained the most perfect con 
 fidence. He was thus, in some degree, secured against the 
 vicissitudes of the war. But he did not feel himself quite se 
 cure, and he had in view even larger operations, chiefly upon 
 British resources, which kept him perpetually scheming. If the 
 British triumphed, he contemplated the valuable lands and 
 chattels of certain estates, the confiscation of which was certain. 
 If they succumbed to the revolutionists, there were still some 
 processes by which to fleece them before they evacuated the 
 country. And, whatever the final result, it was still necessary 
 to his securities that he should drive a bargain with the rebel 
 authorities. He could give the quid such was his assurance 
 to Willie Sinclair for any favors which the revolutionists 
 could bestow. 
 
 But we need not anticipate ! 
 
 The approaches to Holly-Dale, whether from above or be 
 low, conducted you through long, dark, silent avenues of the 
 natural forest, to within three hundred yards of the grounds 
 and dwelling-house. This building, a comfortable frame-work 
 of two stories on a basement, divided in the centre by a great 
 passage, faced south and west, with a piazza running along in 
 front ; a wing at each extremity afforded two pleasant guest- 
 chambers. The house was not more than a short quarter of 
 a mile from the river, but a pleasant wood between, of mas 
 sive old trees, shut the latter out from sight. The ridge upon 
 which the dwelling stood was considerably above the general 
 
"COURSE OF TUtJE LOVE." 27& 
 
 s 
 
 levol of the plantation, and gradually narrowed to a promontory 
 a goodly bluff upon the river the land on either side rap 
 idly skpmg away till it subsided into dense swamp; a vasl 
 thicket, thoroughly lii issed with foliage, through which, in times 
 of freshet, the river swept unobstructed, and which, at all times 
 was penetrated by its tributary waters, creeks, lagunes, ponds, 
 rendering it wholly irreclaimable. The ridge occupied by the 
 settlement, Icing sandy, bore among its more massive forest 
 trees, immeious groups of the holly, and hence the name given 
 to the place. Suppose the usual outhouses of a well-ordered 
 settlement, worm fences enclosing remoter fields, and neat white 
 palings circumscribing gardens, over which white and red roses 
 clambered at pleasure, smiling, like loving idiots, at all coiners, 
 and we may be content with thus much said by way of descrip 
 tion. 
 
 Our major of dragoons was not forgetful of his caution. As 
 he knew not whom it might be his fortune to encounter at the 
 house, he proceeded with due circumspection; and, stabling his 
 horse in the thickets, advanced on foot toward the open 
 grounds. When he reached the immediate bounds of the set 
 tlement, he turned to the right, and made his way to the bluff 
 upon the river. Stealing from tree to tree, he at length gained 
 the banks, and looked out upon the stream, which rolled along 
 placidly, bright as a silver serpent in the sunshine. At the 
 distance of a hundred yards above, a little dugout a canoe 
 hollowed, Indian fashion, from a cypress rested lazily upon 
 the water, half shaded by overhanging trees. In this sat a 
 youth, not more than fourteen or fifteen, fishing for blue-cat 
 and perch. You have never eaten the blue-cat of the Edisto, 
 gentle reader or you have? in either case you have some 
 thing to live for. The blue-cat of the Edisto is one of the 
 nicest fish that swims, tender as young love, white as maiden 
 purity, delicate as a dream of innocence, satisfactory as a capi 
 tal prize in the lottery, to one who has spent his last dollar in 
 the selfish business of feeding hunger and clothing nakedness. 
 Take an Edisto cat in July if you can boil, of course use 
 as little dressing as possible, beyond the melted butter ; eschew 
 all fish-sauces, whatever their supposed virtues, and reconcile 
 yourself, with all despatch, to a world which is still capable of 
 such goodly productions. 
 
276 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Our young fisherman was evidently earning his dinner, 81.1 
 clair stole down the bluff, wormed his way into the swamp, and, 
 unheard, unseen, crept out to the banks not a dozen yards from 
 the canoe. 
 
 " Henry !" he called. 
 
 The boy was in the act of taking a perch a goodly subject 
 for .such treatment as Saint Dominic bestowed on heretics. 
 The red-belly perch of the Edisto is not one of its aldermen, 
 but it is nevertheless a good citizen well to do in the waters 
 armed to make himself respected where he goes; and, not 
 unwilling to take off his armor, when the fight is done, and 
 suffer himself to be properly dressed for company and table. 
 Yon may use your fish-sauces upon him. His delicacy does not 
 revolt at strong condiments. In that respect, there is but little 
 sympathy between himself and the azure cat, his neighbor. 
 
 The boy had just taken one of these goodly perch from the 
 waters, when his name was called, in low tones, but sufficiently 
 loud to reach his ears. He knew the voice, dropped the fish 
 into the boat, and turned about, all in the twinkling of an eye., 
 to face the summoner. 
 
 " Who is it ?" 
 
 Then, as if he saw through all disguises, lift cried out in a 
 voice, a little sharper and shriller than was absolutely essentia* 
 to the occasion : 
 
 " Major Willie ! is it you ? Oh ! I m so glad to see you !" 
 
 The canoe was put about for the shore in a moment, and the 
 boy Avas soon clasped in the arms of his military friend. Verily 
 a tall and goodly boy was he, with a sunbrowned, but frank, in 
 genuous face, and a fine dark, sparkling eye, full of intelligence 
 and life. 
 
 " And how s all, Henry ?" 
 
 "Well, well all well." 
 
 " And Bertha !" 
 
 " Oh ! she s well too ; but she s not in a good humor. She 
 been cross to me of late. Won t do anything I ask her. It s 
 all owing, Major Willie, to your not coming when you promised. 
 
 The major laughed merrily 
 
 "But I m come now, Henry, and we ll see if Bertha s humor* 
 will improve." 
 
"COUKSE OF TKUE LOVE." 277 
 
 "Oh! when I say she s been cross, Major Willie, I don t mean 
 that exactly. She s only been forgetful, and don t mind what I say, 
 and don t do what I ask her. There, it s a week since she was to 
 make my lines for me yet see what I have to fish with now old 
 cotton strings, so rotten that a good big fish would snap em all to 
 pieces and I do think she s never thought of them since. And you 
 don t know how much I want e m. The fish are now biting famously. 
 See what I ve caught in an hour. Three fine cat, seven perch and 
 two jackfish, in an hour less than an hour, and if I had come out at 
 sunrise, I might have caught twice as many: and if I come about 
 sunset, I ll be sure to do so. The river is just right now, Major Wil 
 lie low enough " 
 
 " And warm enough ! " 
 
 "That it is," answered the boy, wiping the sweat from his brow 
 "But you re well, Major Willie? You re not wounded ? Have 
 you had any more fighting ? Oh ! I so want to see you a-fighting 
 in a charge, with that brave black horse ! Where s the black, Major 
 Willie you have nt had him shot ? He isn t killed or hurt ? Where 
 is he now ? " 
 
 The queries of the boy poured out in a flood. Sinclair tried to 
 .answer them all. 
 
 " No ! " he said, " the black is as brave and sound as ever; I m not 
 hurt, as you see; we have had some little skirmishing, but nothing 
 much; and, as for your seeing a fight, Henry, I wish you were only 
 ten years older, that you might try your own broadsword in it, and 
 strike, side by side with me, in a charge upon the redcoats." 
 
 " Ha ! wouldn t I then ? How I would cut right and left ! Hur 
 rah ! hurrah ! How I could make em skip ! " 
 
 And the boy yelled with the exciting idea. Sinclair put his 
 hands on his mouth. 
 
 " Sh ! sh ! A good partisan, Henry, waits for the moment of 
 charge for giving the war-whoop ! At all other times his rule is to 
 know first who may be listening. For we never give the hurrah 
 till the broadsword is flashing in the air, and we are ready to smite 
 with it, over the shoulders of the enemy." 
 
 "Oh! there s nobody here now, Major Willie. You re quite 
 safe." 
 
278 THL POJfcUFFffc . 
 
 " Where s your father 7" 
 
 " In Orangeburg. He went over yesterday, and didirt comn 
 back last night won t come back, I reckon, till to-night. * 
 
 Ah! but mother and sister are both at home, and qufte 
 well ! There s been no trouble, Henry." 
 
 " Not a bit ! Oh ! not a bit ! All s so dull at home ! We 
 never see, nor hear anything hardly of the fighting, for father 
 keeps a close tongue. Oh ! he is so close so shy of his words ; 
 and then mother don t want to hear of the war and sis is 
 afraid to hear ! It is so dull, Major Willie, that I wish you d 
 beg for me, and carry me off somewhere, where I could see 
 something, and learn to do a little of the fighting myself. Why, 
 I can t even try my gun. Father says powder s too scarce, and 
 there s nothing to shoot; and that s true there s no seeing 
 even a squirrel; and father s hid my gun in his own room. 
 He says people would take it away from me. But would they, 
 do you think, Major Willie, if I had a good load in it, and had 
 only time enough to draw sight? I d like em to try it!" 
 
 "Why, you are, indeed, cut off from all resources, Henry." 
 
 "Isn t it too bad, Major Willie? And there s sis too, that 
 don t even try to please me, and don t make my lines, though 
 she promised me. And " 
 
 "Henry!" at that moment, soft and musical, yet full and 
 clear as a silver bell, sounding over a mountain-lake, was the 
 call of a voice from the edge of the highlands. 
 
 " That s Bertha now !" murmured Willie Sinclair. 
 
 " Yes ! it s sis ! I wonder what she wants." And he shout 
 ed in reply, and, immediately afterward, darted through the 
 swamp, calling to Sinclair to follow him. This the latter did, 
 with almost as little deliberation as the boy, though with far 
 more difficulty. The latter leaped lightly, and knew the way ; 
 the large frame of our major of dragoons rendered the task of 
 rapid progress through the undergrowth a much more serious 
 one to him. But he scrambled through after a fashion ; and, 
 with the frank, heartful ardor of an honest love, prepared to 
 ascend the little elevation upon which the damsel stood await 
 ing his approach. 
 
 Was Bertha Travis a beauty ? It is enough that Willie 
 Sinclair thought so. She was certainly such a creature a 
 
27V* 
 
 would compel admiration in any circle ; of fine shape, medium 
 size, graceful movement, and dignified yet eager carriage. 
 Her figure was slight, yet sweetly rounded. Her eyes were, 
 once dark and brilliant. Her cheek was somewhat pale ordi 
 narily. It now wore a delicate flush which might be due to 
 a brisk walk from the dwelling to the bluff, in that ardent sum 
 mer s day; but was, in all probability, the fruit of the unex 
 pected encounter with her lover. Such an event is well calcu 
 lated to bring the blood of a young fond heart out upon the 
 cheek. 
 
 " See who s come, sis !" cried the boy, beckoning to Sinclair 
 " see whom I ve brought you, sis ! It s Major Willie, in 
 spite of the homespun hunting-shirt." 
 
 "He has been reproaching you, Bertha," cried Sinclair, as he 
 ascended the bluff. 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Henry, "but I was wrong. See, sli* 
 has done the lines and brought them. She s a good little sister 
 after all." 
 
 He took the lines from her hand while speaking. She re 
 mained silent. 
 
 " Bertha !" said Sinclair, clasping her hand in his own ; " we 
 meet once more." 
 
 " You are safe, Willie, ojiite safe ?" 
 
 " Yes ; unhurt, and only much wearied. I have had a hard 
 travel, in an anxious quest, and come for solace. Can you 
 give it me? Here you have peace? Shall I say love also?" 
 
 She looked at him very earnestly, and he now detected, 
 mingling with a deep shade of sadness upon her cheek, an ex 
 pression of reserve and caution in her eye. There was some 
 thing of a trembling motion in her lips which arrested his ob- 
 servation, and made him feel that something had gone wrong 
 
 lie turned from her to the brother and said : 
 Go, try your new lines, Henry, while Bertha and I talk of 
 jur own affairs." 
 
 The boy laughed consciously and merrily, and said : 
 
 "It s almost too late for much sport now. The sl will be 
 N!OW to bite till toward sundown ; but I know you never want 
 im; \vhen you can have sis; and so, I m off. Call me when you 
 tjjt-.t tired of your own talk. I ll be i the boat." 
 
280 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Sensible boy," said Sinclair quietly, as the lad trotted down 
 into the swamp. When he was fairly gone, the lover said, pos 
 sessing himself of Bertha s hand : 
 
 " What troubles you, Bertha ? I do not misunderstand the 
 signs in your eye, and upon your face. You are grave, sad 
 something has happened to disquiet you ; but nothing, I trust, 
 dear Bertha, to make you doubtful of, or displeased with me." 
 
 She released to him the hand without scruple, and he pressed 
 it warmly in his own. A moment after she replied frankly, 
 and with all that sweet natural impulse which shows the true 
 heart, untouched and untrammelled by convention. 
 
 " No, Willie ; it is scarce possible that you should ever dis 
 please me ; and I have no doubt of your truth and love ! If I 
 had, I should not linger with you a moment. But I confess to 
 doubts and anxieties of my own, Willie, that make me unhap 
 py unhappy, even in the possession of your love." 
 
 " What ! why is this { What has happened, Bertha, to occa 
 sion these perplexities ?" 
 
 " Willie, you must speak to me honestly and truly, as you 
 can ! You shall know all that troubles me ; and I shall be too 
 glad, Willie, if you can relieve me of my fears and anxieties. 
 I do not wish to doubt, or fear, or feel anxious, in any way, 
 where your love is the subject. I have given you all my heart, 
 I need all of yours ; and it would be the greatest of miseries and 
 disappointments to me, dear Willie, if anything should happen 
 to make me feel that I ought not to wish you mine, or to keep 
 your pledges that you would make me yours." 
 
 She paused and looked most sweetly into his full eyes. He 
 saw that her troubles were really felt, and no mere lover- 
 anxieties, such as idleness and loneliness will breed. 
 
 1 Why, dear heart, you alarm me ! What can have caused 
 f hese doubts, these misgivings ? Tell me all hide nothing! 
 flas that subtle and treacherous Richard Inglehardt been at 
 work, to make you fearful?" 
 
 Oh ! his working should never occasion doubt or fear in my 
 heart ; least of all could word of his, or any one, affect my trust 
 in you. It is not that, but something of a far different kind." 
 
 " And what is it, my own Bertha ?" 
 
 I know not how to speak, Willie: -it is of so difficult a 
 
281 
 
 nature, yet" desperately "I must! It must be spoken, Willie, 
 for if I have given you up all my heart, I have not given 
 up my pride; and if I am to bear your name, Willie, I must 
 not feel, or suffer anyone to feel or think, that I arn not worthy 
 of it." 
 
 "Oh! who can think or speak thus, dear Bertha? Speak! tell 
 me frankly of your cause of trouble. Do not keep me in sus 
 pense." 
 
 She sighed deeply, and looked mournfully into his eyes. He 
 would have drawn her to his bosom, but she resisted firmly, saying, 
 "No, Willie no!" 
 
 But he repossessed himself of one of her hands, and his arm half 
 circled her waist; and thus they stood, side by side, beneath the 
 sheltering boughs of an ancient water-oak. And thus they stood 
 silent for a while she, at least, silent, while he only interrupted 
 the interval by entreating her full speech. He was now suffi 
 ciently anxious himself, showing more of the tender lover than 
 altogether beseemed the rustic garb he wore and his sanguinary 
 profession. 
 
 "Henry said you were sad and suffering, Bertha at least, I 
 gathered thus much from what he did say but I fondly fancied 
 that your griefs grew from my absence, as all that I suffer, at any 
 time, is due to yours. But that there should be any serious 
 cause of disquiet that you should feel or fear my love to be a 
 snare to your pride or sensibilities I never thought or dreaded that, 
 Bertha." 
 
 "Nor is it, Willie. Of you I have no fear no doubt: for you 
 I have but one feeling, and that one is the very life to my heart; 
 but 
 
 "And for whom else should you care?" he exclaimed, almost 
 fiercely; but she stopped him, laying one hand on his arm, and 
 withdrawing, at the same time, from his embrace. She had 
 now evidently nerved herself to a difficult task, and her eyes 
 met his firmly, as she lifted up her face. Her love was a very 
 artless, ingenuous passion, and betrayed itself without reserve. 
 In such cases, the pain is in the thought of giving pain. Ber 
 tha knew that what she was about to say must do this. Her 
 preliminaries were instinctively designed to strengthen herself 
 and to mollify the annoyance she was compelled to inflict. He 
 
8:2 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 gazed in her sweet, sad, but ingenuous eyes, and subdued nmv 
 self to patience, as he urged her tenderly to proceed. 
 
 " Willie, dear Willie, you know even better than I what dif 
 ference exists in the several ranks of our society. Now, yov 
 know, that mine is comparatively of humble stock ; and though 
 n-y mother comes of good family in the Low country, yet, in 
 marrying my father, who was an obscure Indian trader, she 
 incurred the reproach and anger of her own kindred. They 
 neglected, and finally cast her off." 
 
 " She was as good and noble as any of them." 
 " Yes, but in such cases, it seems, the wife sinks to the 1ms 
 band s rank, and loses something of her own. But be patient 
 and hear me. It is a fact to be remembered, however, that 
 they cast her off. Their reasons for this cruelty were to be 
 found in this difficulty of social caste. The career of my father 
 has not been pursued in such walks as could restore her to po 
 sition ; and you perhaps know that, even along the Edisto, there 
 are many who do not hold my father of like rank with them- 
 
 selves " 
 
 Pshaw, Bertha, who shall cure conceit of its folly ? and how 
 great must be his folly who shall attempt it ! These distinc 
 tions here are ridiculous enough." 
 
 " Patiently, dear Willie. You must know, too, that it is one 
 of my poor father s weaknesses to desire, above all things, to 
 conciliate the favor of the great to take rank among the 
 very people who despise his humble beginnings, and who, at 
 best, when they make concessions, only tolerate those whom 
 they fear, or whom they wish to use for some selfish or slavish 
 policy. To me, the favor of such people is a thing of no mo 
 ment. I do not despise it, but I would not seek it. Favor, 
 friendship, love, must all come from natural sympathies, or they 
 hide a falsehood at the core, and I care for no sympathies that 
 are not free gifts of the heart that the heart is compelled to 
 purchase." 
 
 "And you are right, my Bertha. In this lies the whole secret 
 and security of th* affections. Have I ever taught otherwise ? 
 Do I desire less for you offer less to you? To what, dear 
 Bertha, do all these expressions tend ?" 
 
"COURSE OF TRUE LOVE." 28n 
 
 * Do not be impatient, dear Willie. I have so much to say, 
 ,hat I know not well how to say it." 
 
 "Let us sit, Bertha there, in the shade of those cedars on 
 the slope of the hill. The day is so warm ; but a little breeze 
 rising from the river, sweeps up the slope. Let us sit, and we 
 can talk more easily." 
 
 And he led her down the slope, and found for her a shady 
 spot upon the dry leaves that strewed the earth. ^ After a brief 
 pause, she resumed : 
 
 " I have not been kept in ignorance, dear Willie, of the dif 
 ferences of rank in society, which draw a line between my own 
 and the more distinguished families in our county. I kno^ my 
 father s history his humble rise, his poverty at first, all his ne 
 cessities, and that the trade which he pursued with the Indians, 
 was held in scorn by our wealthy planters. My mother, brought 
 up in these very prejudices, was quite aware of their operation 
 ipon her own position when she married my father, and she 
 has not suffered me to remain in ignorance. But, until recently, 
 I never suffered them to disturb me, or to occasion any doubts 
 of my own security in my mind." 
 
 And why should they now, Bertha ?" 
 
 " You shall hear in time. When you became known to me, 
 Willie, and I found, and showed the pleasure which I found in 
 seeing you, my mother warned me that your family was a very 
 proud one, of great wealth, of old rank, and bade me be cautious 
 how I suffered you to see that I loved you. But I did not then 
 feel or fear her warnings. I had no caution, Willie ; I only 
 felt happy when you came, happier when you spoke to me" 
 Kindly, and very unhappy when you went. I am afraid, dear 
 Willie, that I suffered you to see this as soon as my dear 
 mother saw it." 
 
 " And if you did, sweet Bertha, it only served to make an 
 other heart as happy as your own. Was there harm or loss to 
 you, my love, in such heedless policy. Nay, was there ever 
 more politic counsellor for love than the fond confidence which 
 begets a love like its own, and is never so successful as when 
 it lelivers itself blindly to the faith which it feels. Why should 
 you repent this heedlessness, Bertha? I have never trespassed 
 upon, never abused it. It won back all that it gave a* 
 
284 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 much as it gave and unless you have learned to question uj 
 truth, dear Bertha, you have lost nothing, incurred no peril- 
 only put out your affections at interest, in a sweet traffic of af 
 fections which have brought in rare profits have doubled 
 your original capital. You see, my sweet, that I too can talk 
 in the language of trade, even in the affairs of the heart/ 
 
 " Willie, I believe you. It is all true. But this is not all. 
 As I was sayijig, I was counselled that my family held no such 
 rank as yours in society ; that we were obscure and humble ; 
 that your family was proud among the proudest; mine just 
 rising from the dust. My mother spoke of all these distinctions 
 too clearly to leave me in any doubt. And she did not under 
 value me in her eyes, or disparage rne to my own, when she 
 told me that I was but a simple country-girl, having no experi 
 ence of life among the great, ignorant of much that they know, 
 artless, unsophisticated, too believing, too confiding, and with 
 nothing to commend me, Willie, but a pretty face and a true 
 heart." 
 
 He caught her to his bosom as she spoke. 
 
 "What more! What more!" he cried "did I ever lead 
 u on to think, my Bertha, that the heart of Willie Sinclair 
 longed for more ?" 
 
 " No, Willie ; and, so far as you are concerned, I repent not 
 that you have caught me in your arms I sigh not because 
 your kisses have been sweet upon my lips. They have been 
 very sweet to me, Willie. They have filled my heart with a 
 new life a joy that it never knew until I breathed under 
 your love. Ah ! Willie, is not this enough for confession ! See 
 how free I am of speech. And against this, mother warned me 
 also. She knew that my lips still spoke as my heart felt, and 
 she shook her head in frequent warning. But I loved you from 
 the first, Willie, and it was so sweet, so easy to tell you so. I 
 could die for you, Willie, and never feel the pain ; and why 
 shouldn t I tell you so." 
 
 " Why not, indeed !" he murmured, looking into her eyes, 
 the tearful tenderness which he felt." 
 
 " And I told you so and I gave you all my heart and I 
 i)li mother all that I had said and done, and she sighed to 
 near it, and had her misgivings still but she approved when 
 
285 
 
 she came to know you well and her hopes grew with my own of 
 happiness. Do I tire, you, Willie ? " 
 
 "No! no! It is so much music that I seem to dream. I could 
 listen to you forever, Bertha." 
 
 " And we were betrothed. Ah! Willie. I shall never forget the 
 trembling happiness of that moment when you wrapped me in your 
 first embracej and I felt as if I were dying in } r our arms, but without 
 any of the pang or fear of death. We were betrothed, and it seemed 
 to me as if the world was mine, with all its moonlight, and flowers, 
 and sweet breezes: It was a child heart that I gave you, Willie, 
 having a perfect confidence in all the beauties and blessings of 
 this world, and taking them ail as your gift and yours only. 
 Was it not all very foolish of me, Willie, so to think and 
 feel ? " 
 
 " Foolish, Bertha! This is the very wisdom of the heart. 
 The child is apt to be wiser than the man. It is the faith, 
 after all and before all, the generous gift of confidence, the 
 implicit trust that believes only where it loves, and loves to 
 believe, that makes the true virtue in love, and renders it the most 
 precious of all earthly possessions nay, more than earthly 
 makes it a thing heavenly, akin to all that is precious in 
 immortality. Ah ! Bertha, if you should outgrow this child 
 heart ! " 
 
 " That is the new pain that troubles me, Willie. My father knew 
 of our engagement, my mother told him all; and, though he warned 
 us all to secrecy, he yet approved; nay, Willie, I must tell you, he 
 was very proud of it it promised to help him to the social position 
 for which he had so much yearned. He said to me, The Sinclairs 
 are among our first families rich, popular, distinguished but 
 this did not lift my heart in pride. No, Willie, if I felt pride at all, 
 it was only in the one Sinclair whom I so loved to think my own 
 my own." 
 
 "Ah! flatterer! But did your father say why he enjoined you 
 to secrecy ? " 
 
 " Not exactly; but we gathered enough from what he did say to 
 learn that he was particularly anxious that it should not get to the 
 ears of Richard Inglehardt " 
 
 "Ah! as I thought!" 
 
 " But why what is Inglehardt to him or to me ? 
 
26 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Of tliat hereafter, Bertha ! We are still far oft from tht 
 tiling that troubles you." 
 
 " Oh ! Willie, I wish I could not tell you that ! But 1 must 
 tell it. There must be nothing in my bosom, which I should 
 seek to shelter or to keep from you." 
 
 " Speak fearlessly, dear Bertha." 
 
 " Well, my father, without saying a word to us, went down 
 to see your father, and came back to us in a perfect rage. At 
 first, he said, that there should be no engagwnent between us; 
 that there was an impassable wall between us that your fathei 
 had grossly insulted him that he had treated him like a dog 
 that your sister was the haughtiest woman breathing that 
 she had not noticed him at all, or so contemptuously, that every 
 word, and every look was an insult; that, speaking of you, 
 Colonel Sinclair told him that the subject was not one proper to 
 his mouth; that there could be no circumstances which should 
 justify him in adverting to you at all; and when, it seems, my 
 father mentioned, as delicately as possible, your attentions to 
 ine, then, that your father broke out in the wildest rage, and 
 said that the whole suggestion was a lie, and that his son could 
 never so much demean himself, as to think of the daughter of 
 an Indian trader. My father, in his fury for I never saw 
 him half so roused before said that he didn t tell us half the 
 insults to which he submitted ; and, at the time, he forbade that 
 1 should think any more of you." 
 
 "But ho has thought differently since, Bertha has spoken 
 differently 1" said Sinclair with a sad interest in his look. 
 
 " Oh ! yes ! But Willie, this makes no difference to me / 
 Shall I enter a family which scorns me which holds my family 
 in scorn which treats my father with contempt and abuse 
 which wrongs the family of my mother and makes my very 
 affections for you the means by which to do them dishonor ?: 1 
 
 " My own dear Bertha ! This has come upon me prema 
 turely. All that you have said about my family rank and 
 wealth is unloubtedly true; all that you have said of the too 
 frequently idle distinctions of caste prevailing in our social 
 world, is also true, unhappily. Col. Sinclair, my father, is by 
 nature and education, a proud and haughty person. He is a^so 
 a man of violent passions when under provocation full of false 
 
" COURSE OP TRUE LOVE." 287 
 
 notions of blood, and the victim of many prejudices. But lie is 
 one who means to be just, and all his instincts are honorable 
 and all his sympathies are true. Forgive me now, if I say that 
 your father committed a very serious error, if not offence, in 
 broaching to a father and such a father a subject, of so deli 
 cate a nature, concerning his son, of which the son himself hao 
 never spoken. My father felt that such a communication should 
 never have been first made by a stranger. This did me harm 
 with him. You are not now to be told that my father is a loyal 
 ist. As such, he holds my course with the patriotic part/ 
 to be monstrous and criminal. We see each other but seldom 
 now. Until recently, we have not exchanged a syllable for 
 months. Your father anticipated me, and thus prejudiced my 
 argument. I had I confess to you and believe & difficult 
 task to perform, in overcoming the prejudices of a life, in the 
 mind of an old man, suffering from a painful chronic disease, 
 and so irritable, in consequence, that the very opening of a sub 
 ject to him which threatens to disturb old opinions, is calculated 
 of itself to irritate. Your father finds him in this condition of 
 mind and body, and without any preparation without any 
 consideration of the condition of the subject without even 
 respecting his political prejudices knowing too that Colonel 
 Sinclair had personal prejudices against himself growing out of 
 affairs that happened when the two served together in the war 
 against the Cherokees he bluntly proposes a sort of trade, your 
 heart and mine being articles of certain value to be set off against 
 the claims of the British crown claims which, to an old loyal 
 ist, were paramount to all other considerations." 
 
 " Did my father do this ?" 
 
 " So I gather from the spasmodic and angry speeches of my 
 father, and from the partial report of my sister." 
 
 " And that sister, Willie 1 Is she so proud, so haughty, so 
 scornful of the humble name of Bertha Travis." 
 
 " Carrie Sinclair ! Oh ! how little you know that sister from 
 the report of your father. She knew nothing of his real mis 
 sion till he was gone. She heard of him only as a British 
 commissariat, seeking to contract with my father, for a 
 hundred head of beeves for the Charleston garrison. Nay, there 
 was a contract, and the beeves furnished, and it was onlv whon 
 
88 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 the contract was executed, that your father broached the sub 
 ject of our intimacy to mine. This was after Carrie Sinclair 
 had retired from the table. Her conduct was, I will venture to 
 say, only what yours would have been under the same circum 
 stances. You come down to dinner and find a stranger, of whom 
 you know nothing, seeking cattle, and you are civil to him as a 
 lady at your own table, but reserved, and not disposed to en 
 courage familiarity or approach. This was all. In your father s 
 eagerness to attain an object, he overlooked all its difficulties, 
 never sought to anticipate them, rushed at them impetuously, 
 and was baffled." 
 
 " All ! but, Willie, the prejudice is still there. How can I 
 enter a family which looks upon the approach of mine its 
 alliance with aversion V 
 
 " Bertha, my love, I am not aware that God, among his 
 many mercies, has ever guarantied to man a perfect success 
 and facility in the prosecution of any 7 of his objects. This, 
 which is true of all objects of human desire, is said to be partic 
 ularly true of the affections. The great poet, Shakspere, 
 whom, I trust, I have taught you to love and venerate, and 
 to study, has especially insisted upon such unavoidable, nay, 
 necessary obstacles, in love, and in love too which is most dis 
 tinguished by T its sincerity. Crafty love, bargain and sale love, 
 trading and selfish love, calculating and conniving love, are all 
 much more likely than sincere, deep, profound honest love, to 
 attain their ends ; for the simple reason that their ends are all 
 meaner, more vulgar, more common, depending upon arts and 
 interests of a character not more noble than the driving of a 
 clever bargain. It is true love whose course does tiotrun smooth 
 ly, and I do not know, dear Bertha, that it, lessens the value of 
 the commodity that its impediments are so great and many ! I 
 never disguised from you the fact that there were impedi 
 ments nay, prejudices, of all kinds the worst to be over 
 come. But I told you they should be overcome, dear Bertha, 
 and I begged you to have faith in me. What shall I, or can 1, 
 say more? Suppose I should fail to overcome the prejudices 
 ot my father suppose that ho persists in his blindness and de 
 termined hostility to the real interests of my heart is love 
 thereby baffled, my Bertha ? Will lovetsubmit to take its law 
 
" COUIJSE! OF TRUE LOVE." 
 
 from blindness and prejudice, and unreasonable obstinacy 1 
 Heaven forbid ? Though Heaven requires that its waters 
 shall not flow smoothly, it does not require that they shall be 
 dammed up : nay, dear heart, it provides the obstacles, and op 
 poses the current, and drives it back, only the better to test its 
 strength and honesty only that it may acquire the necessary 
 force to break down all barriers, and &ssc;l over all in triumph 
 its living, earnest and life-giving sincerity. So shall it be with 
 ours, dear Bertha ! So shall our love triumph over all opposi 
 tion of father as of all others. Nay, though my father never 
 yielded though my family still kept insensible to your merits, 
 yet shall /so wrong them so wrong myself as to yield to 
 the wrong, and give you up, and sacrifice myself to silly preju 
 dices, or a blind mulish obstinacy that rejects, reason, feeling, 
 and the claims of youthful ardor? But, there is no obstacle, 
 here, however seemingly stubborn, which will not be overcome. 
 My father is a man of warm affections, and most loving of his 
 children, when most seemingly hostile. He has his humors, but 
 they subside finally into concessions which better show his 
 heart. He will be conciliated. As for Carrie Sinclair ah ! 
 if you cherish one doubt of her, I shall love you one kiss the 
 less. Know that Carrie has already commissioned me to kiss 
 you with a sister s love, and to bear to you a sister s welcome. 
 She is prepared to believe you all that I have painted you to 
 her imagination." 
 
 The girl yielded with a sweet sigh, to the ardent clasp with 
 which the lover folded her to his arms, at the conclusion of 
 his speech. Let us leave them for a-while, to watch the circles 
 in the water, if they please, to note the glittering shafts of sun 
 light upon the ever-glimpsing stream, to listen to the sudden 
 voice of the mocking-bird which has just taken perch upon a 
 twig of the tree not twenty feet above their heads, and there 
 sits, balancing and swinging, while he sings of the gay life it 
 the triumphant lover. 
 
 13 
 
236 THE FORAYF3H9. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A PAIR OF ARCADIANS. 
 
 WMILK our major of dragoons, seizing a brief respite fiom the 
 toils of war, was solacing himself in the embrace of love, let us 
 return to the village of Orangeburg, and make the personal ac 
 quaintance of other parties, of whom, hitherto, we have only 
 heard. 
 
 The dwelling of the widow Bruce was, at the time of which 
 \ve write, one of the most pretentious in the village. It was a 
 doulle house of two stories upon a basement cellar, and faced 
 with an ample piazza. It occupied a central position in the 
 place, being situated in the main street some two squares dis 
 tant from the jail in a northwest direction. No traces of it now 
 remain. 
 
 The widow, herself, was a Scotchwoman and a loyalist. She 
 believed devoutly in Britain and in George the Third; was 
 fully assured of her principles, ready in their assertion, inflexi 
 ble in their maintenance, and perfectly satisfied of the ultimate 
 and complete triumph of royalty in its endeavor to maintain 
 itself in the country. She was by temperament an aristocrat, 
 proud, high-spirited, lofty of bearing, delicate in consideration, 
 and tenacious of all the proprieties. She was a woman of de 
 cided character, with a temper of her own ; of good face and 
 figure, stately and of excellent carriage. At thirty-five or forty, 
 her age at this time, she was not too old to cultivate the graces, 
 or to feel the necessity of looking her best upon great occasions. 
 She was not rich, but in moderate circumstances ; and we are 
 not to suppose that she kept an ordinary. Her house simply 
 yielded its hospitalities (for a consideration, no tloubt) to visiters 
 of distinction. The magnates of the rival paities, alone, were 
 welcome. Here, accordingly, my lords Cornwallis and Raw- 
 
A PAIR OP ARCADIANS. 291 
 
 :lon made their headquarters when they visited the place ; and 
 BO, at other periods, did the American leaders, especially Gov 
 ernor Rutledgc, who was quite a favorite with the widow, in 
 spite of his intensely rebel predilections. In those days, the 
 utter disruption of society in Carolina the fact that the 
 Revolution had divided families, and placed in opposition the 
 members of the same circle led necessarily to great toleration 
 among all persons of sensibility. The widow Bruce was an 
 Lonest loyalist, but there were sundry honest rebels whom she 
 could welcome to her abode with no diminution of her ancient 
 hospitality. 
 
 Her house being aristocratic in pretension, it was quite natu 
 ral that all new men, ambitious of position, should prefer it as a 
 place oT lodging, to that of Jack Baltezegar who was the pro 
 fessed publican of the village. Honest Jack was the democrat 
 par excellence of the place ; not one of that class of noisy, brawl 
 ing, impudent demagogues of the present day, at once insolent 
 and ignorant ; but a genuine, simple, frank, good-humored fel 
 low, rough and^ unpretending, who was willing to serve you 
 and provide for you, and receive your money with thanks, and 
 send you forth with a blessing when you departed. Jack Bal 
 tezegar was a good specimen of the village-landlord, as well in 
 person and deportment, as in taste and principle. He was a 
 baldheaded, ruby-nosed, broad-mouthed, lively-eyed fellow, 
 short and squab of figure, with face and belly equally roun-d 
 and ample, fond of jest and dinner, and no slouch at a rouse, 
 with a group of good fello\vs in the hall, after all the demure 
 lodgers have gone off to bed. His tavern, which was of more 
 humble appearance and dimensions than that of the widow 
 Bruce, stood upon Main street, i. e., the Charleston road, and 
 w;is the resort of all persons of moderate means, of humble pre- 
 teiiBions, and such especially as thought much more of their 
 ease and freedom than of social rank and appearances. 
 
 Now, it was wholly owing to this difference of status that the 
 lodging-house of the widow Bruce, was preferred to that of 
 Jack Baltezegar, by our captain of mounted riflemen, Richard 
 Inglehardt. Inglehardt was a new man ; an ambitious man, 
 anxious to shake off old and inferior associations; anxious to 
 bung himself into constant comn imic-ation with persons of 
 
292 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 whose social /ank there could be no question. His family, and 
 that of Jack Baltezegar, had been closely intimate ; but be 
 tween himself and honest Jack, there was a broad sandy stretch 
 
 a desert scarcely passable which neither sought to overpass, 
 and which the ambitious captain would prefer to see increasing 
 in breadth of space and depth of sand. Jack Baltezegar knew 
 
 none better all the humble antecedents of Richard Ingle- 
 hardt. It was the most impertinent sort of knowledge, which 
 Jack was not disposed to keep sealed up from the vulgar sense. 
 He might have been civil enough to keep silence, had Richard 
 been sensible enough to have foreborne giving the preference 
 to the house of Widow Bruce. Had he done so, indeed, it 
 might have been the better for. himself might have secured 
 him greater popularity for, the truth must be told, Richard 
 was more feared respected, perhaps than loved. He had 
 abandoned his caste, an unforgivable offence, which moved the 
 dislike of all its members ; and he had not quite succeeded in 
 forcing himself upon the affections, or the full confidence of that, 
 other circle which he sought to penetrate ; and this moved the 
 scorn and derision of his old associates none of whom was 
 more sharp and satirical than our excellent Jack Baltezegar. 
 Now, Jack was, besides, though in secret, a revolutionist. He 
 did not publish his articles of faith, it is true; and he rather 
 avoided all question in respect to them ; but, in his own way, 
 he suffered the patriots to know that he was an ally whenever 
 the wind blew from the right quarter. 
 
 It was not with any eagerness, we may state, that the widow 
 Bruce consented to receive Captain Richard Inglehardt into 
 her dwelling. She, too, was quite well acquainted with his 
 first beginnings, and early associations. She did not incline 
 to these, and she did not much affect the character of the man. 
 As a lodger he would never, before the Revolution, have found 
 his way to her board ; but that event forced people into new 
 and seemingly unnatural relations and the widow Bruce was 
 compelled to recognise the claims of the loyalist captain, in a 
 lawless period, whom, as the son of an obscure overseer, of no 
 good character, she would have spurned from her threshold. 
 Inglehardt felt all this, but was quite willing that circumstances 
 should do for his desire* what personally he might not have dons 
 
A PAIR OP ARCADIANS. 
 
 hmiach ; and his good sense did not suffer him to feel any re 
 sentments in consequence of what he knew to he the real, 
 though suppressed feelings of his hostess toward him. She 
 despised him that he knew as an individual; but as she 
 did not outrage his pride hy any wanton exhibition of her sen 
 timents, he was by no means unwilling that she should enter 
 tain them. In fact, he had nothing to desire at her hands more 
 than he received, and beyond this he never troubled himself to 
 consider for a moment what degree of sympathy might exist 
 between them. He had few sympathies himself for anybody, 
 and his heart was of too cold a nature to feel the need of sym 
 pathy from others. 
 
 Coldness of heart was the great and terrible infirmity of 
 Richard Inglehardt. He could be kind upon occasions nay, 
 was habitually kind forbearing rather, and when unmoved by 
 selfish considerations. But the moment that self interposed, 
 however slightly, he was as unscrupulous as a tiger. Mild and 
 conciliatory of manner, slow and subdued in speech, patient and 
 quiet under all circumstances, deliberate in all his moods, he 
 was subtle, sly, suspicious, ever working in secret like a spider, 
 stretching his meshes on every side, and ensnaring, where he 
 could, with a restless cunning, that worked half the time from 
 mere instinct, and the love of the employment. He was pas 
 sionate in nothing. His hate or love was never a thing of ex 
 tremes, never uncalculating, never rash. , He could abandon, 
 with small feeling of sacrifice, the object of attachment for a 
 consideration ; and could embrace his worst enemy, in the at 
 tainment of a new desire. Essentially cold of heart, he had no 
 friendships, acknowledged no sympathies, and subjected all his 
 feelings, with little effort, to the requisitions of the reason or of 
 the moment. He was, in brief, one of those unfortunate men 
 whoso minds grow prematurely into strength at the expense of 
 their affections. His intellect at fifteen was as much matured 
 as at twenty-five. In short he had never been a boy. Ripe 
 from the beginning, his mind was as subtle, and deliberate, as 
 well balanced, and cool and circumspect, as if endowed with 
 fifty years of social experience. 
 
 A mind thus constituted, without the eager passions arid gen 
 erous impul .;es of youth, rarely goes beyond a certain gradu 
 
94 THE FOBAYERS. 
 
 ttted and respectable measure of performance. It i stationary 
 usually unprogi-essive, and, as it usually excites large expec 
 tations at first, so it is apt to disappoint its own promise in the 
 end. It is, perhaps, true in general, that great minds are com 
 monly slow of growth to maturity. There must be a gradual 
 lise to strength, if permanence is to be attained; and the very 
 sobriety of youth is really an unfavorable indication for the 
 future performances of manhood. Of Richard Inglehardt, the 
 calm, sensible, cool, discreet, assured boy, large expectations had 
 been formed. He still remained calm, and cool, and sensible ; 
 mid, in moderate affairs, even sagacious ; but something more 
 is essential to maintain the claims of such a beginning. That 
 he had not advanced beyond his earliest marks, was, in fact, 
 proof of retrograde. And he had not advanced. He had shown 
 himself brave, but not brilliant ; cunning, but not wise ; calcu 
 lating, but not profound ; able in the performance of ordinary 
 duties, but never nobly adventurous. As a captain of mounted 
 riflemen, he had been diligent. He knew his duty, but he 
 never rose to performances which cast a glory over the simple 
 duty. He had never conceived greatly, as he lacked impulse 
 and enthusiasm ; and exhibited no resources beyond the narrow 
 range of customary endeavor. The lack of enthusiasm is 
 always a proof of deficient genius. Talents he had ; an adapt 
 able capacity for the work before him; he was a shrewd judge 
 of common men ; could conceive their motives ; anticipate their 
 projects ;. thwart, or promote them, according to the sugges 
 tions of his own policy ; but enthusiasm foiled him ; he could 
 never comprehend the worth of impulse, generous self sacrifice, 
 ardent adventure, eager and impetuous zeal. His cunning 
 failed him usually when he had to deal with these qualities. 
 He not only did not quite understand them, he did not believe 
 in their existence ; or, if he did, it was only to rate the posses 
 sor as lacking in that common-sense virtue which was his own 
 and only secret. Now, a common-sense mind, with a cold 
 heart, is a thing of cunning only not of wisdom not of vir 
 tue ; without magnanimity ; capable of small operations, among 
 small people; and usually failing deplorably in moments of 
 sreat exigency^ when it requires a brilliant conception to en 
 counter the udds of an extreme necessity. 
 
A PAIR OF ..ll JADlANfl. 295 
 
 Yet tins man, so cold of heart, so insensible to syn.pathy, su 
 .alculating in his affections such as they were was a pro 
 fessed lover of Bertha Travis. What was the secret of this anom 
 aly ? The contradiction exists simply in appearance. He was 
 a man of objects, continually seeking something always aim 
 ing and grasping ; and, while in pursuit, singularly tenacious 
 of his object. He possessed a dogged sort of perseverance, 
 which supplied the lack of zeal ; but his pursuit, not grounded 
 upon the affections or the sympathies, but the result of calcula 
 tion only, could be arrested in a moment, by the suggestion of 
 any new motive of self to his mind. Of course, he was not 
 wanting in animal passions also, and these become terrible 
 powers of evil in a cold heart. His early years had been passed 
 in near neighborhood of the Travis family. His father had 
 been for several seasons in the employ of Captain Travis, as a 
 keeper of his large stock of cattle, and, for a time, as the over 
 seer of his negroes. The boy had set his eye, even while she 
 was yet a child, upon the budding charms of Bertha. He had 
 determined, with wonderful precocity, that she should be his 
 wife. She was beautiful, and he had a taste for beauty, which 
 was stronger than any feelings or affections of his heart. She 
 had the promise of wealth, and at a very early period, he had 
 discovered the almost universal power of wealth, and he desired 
 wealth as a means of power. Power was his principal craving, 
 and his aim contemplated every possible avenue to it. He had 
 accordingly, resolved upon making Bertha Travis his wife. 
 
 Of course, he felt all the difficulties in the way to the attain 
 ment of his object. The almost immeasurable space which, in 
 a society like that of South Carolina, separates the overseer s 
 family from that of his employer, presented a barrier, the height 
 nnd breadth of which the calculating eye of young Inglehardt 
 began to scan and study when he had but entered his teens. 
 He did not even try to deceive himself in respect to its formic) 
 able impediments. The Revolutionary struggle was favorabit 
 to its over-throw, and he determined to avail himself of it. A 
 time of general commotion in society is apt to be destructive oi 
 most conventionalities. 
 
 But there was yet another barrier in the little damsel her 
 self. She had, strange to Fay, at a very early period, shown 
 
296 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 herself singularly averse to the youth. The instincts of the 
 young rarely deceive them, when they themselves possess en 
 thusiasm and sensibility. The very lack of the former, in the 
 boy, though she could by no means describe the deficiency, 
 trace its source, or define its precise effects upon herself, was 
 yet a source of dislike and aversion. She repelled ail his ap 
 proaches ; she did not fear him, but she avoided him. Her 
 instincts rightly led her to regard him as of cold, selfish, un 
 scrupulous character ; to fed rather that he was so ; and this, 
 too, without expending thought upon the subject. It was only 
 in the full rush of the revolutionary torrent, that Bertha Travis 
 ever began to think that there might bo any serious danger to 
 herself, in the undesired preference which Richard Inglehardt 
 bestowed upon her charms. 
 
 Still, up to a late period, his preference was of a somewhat 
 undemonstrative character. He was not less tenacious of his 
 object, because he pursued it quietly, in secret, and with a cir 
 cumspect avoidance, outwardly, of all design. He had proposed 
 to her, it is true, and been rejected; civilly, but firmly; 
 sufficiently so to convince him that she was not to be won by 
 him, through the medium of her affections. But he was not dis 
 couraged. He had been advised of her intimacy with Sinclair. 
 He had once met him at the house of Travis ; he had seen and 
 felt that the latter was a formidable rival ; he had seen the 
 love of Bertha Travis speaking out in eye, and lip, and gesture, 
 without constraint, at the approach of this rival. He did not 
 hate Sinclair for this reason ; it was the chance o the game 
 that had given the latter his ascendency ; but he resolve I to 
 baffle him nevertheless ; to destroy him if he could ; to make 
 his fate, if possible, a means for acting upon the fears of the 
 maiden. He had another agency for this purpose, in the fa* her 
 of Bertha. He knew the corrupt nature of Travis. He had 
 fathomed some of his secrets. His study was to perfect his 
 power over the fortunes of the latter, and make the condition 
 of his safety, the hand of his daughter. 
 
 And, in the prosecution of these schemes, he had steadily en 
 gaged for months nay, almost for years and, with a certain 
 degree of success, in respect to the affairs of the father which 
 
A PAIR OF ARCADIANS. 29-7 
 
 by this time, began to render him more than ever confident of 
 his game. 
 
 And Travis, himself, a sly and subtle politician, had discover 
 ed the practice of the other; had begun to fear him ; kept 
 close watch upon his movements, and steadily worked, on his 
 hand, to strengthen his defences, and multiply his resources 
 against the moment of attack. He felt that he was measurably 
 in the power of Inglehardt already ; in other words, that the 
 latter had discovered certain secrets which would greatly pre 
 judice him with the British commanders, Rawdon and Balfour ; 
 a condition of his affairs which became much more complicated 
 as he reflected upon the uncertainty of the K evolutionary issue. 
 Were he sure of the triumph of the British, the game was in 
 his own hands, provided he was willing to sacrifice his daughtei 
 to the man who held the secret of his erring practice. But this 
 result was daily becoming more and more doubtful. Travis was 
 too old a soldier, and too keen a politician, not to perceive that 
 the resources of Great Britain were nearly exhausted ; that, in 
 fact, for some time past, she had been fighting her battles, 
 through the weapons of the colonists themselves. The loyaJ 
 Americans now constituted the best portions of her veteran 
 regiments. The moment that this fact should become fully appa 
 rent to the colonists, themselves, would be, he well knew, the 
 signal of their withdrawal from those ranks, in which, conquer 
 ed or conquering, they were still only sacrificing native blood 
 in behalf of foreign power. 
 
 But, let us view these two persons together, Inglehardt and 
 Travis, as they sit, fronting each other at a table, in the cham 
 ber of the former, at the house of the stately widow Bruce 
 Travis has been invited to the conference. It is the resump 
 tion of one which took place the night before at Baltezegar s, 
 where Travis usually had a chamber. 
 
 See the two as they sit at the table. There they sit, smiling 
 both, suspicious both, with the sympathy of an equal cunning 
 alone bringing them together; each with a selfish object; each 
 well aware that all the ordinary securities among men loyalty, 
 good faith, a common object, a common feeling are all equally 
 wauti ig to either party. Both are persons, to the casual eye, of 
 rathei pleasing aspect ; smooth of face, lively of eye, intelligent of 
 
 13* 
 
298 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 visage. In both, however, the acute physiognomist will detect 
 some unpleasant peculiarities. Neither looks into the eye of 
 his neighbor. Both would like to do so, but neither is willing 
 to expose his own. The lips of Travis show some incertitude 
 of character; those of Tnglehardt are firm enough, but the lips 
 do not smile ; they only part when he would laugh. Both are 
 in en of sallow complexion, and lark hair; but Travis is fifty 
 Ingiehardt scarce twenty-five. Yet how equal in years ! The 
 latter was as old as Travis when but tAventy, as he had lived 
 only in the intellect. Whatever the moral deficiencies and 
 obliquities of the other, he was not wanting in the affections, 
 and a heart so much contributes to the proper human wisdom, 
 that we may give him credit for even an intellectual progress 
 which the other can never make. His mind is already old ; 
 his heart has never grown at all. The one has dwarfed the 
 other, out of sight, as if it never had existence. 
 
 What pleasant jest has been provoking them to laughter ? 
 That laughter of the heartless What a lie it is! What a 
 mockery of heart and humanity ! A laugh, to be of any value, 
 to compel any respect or sympathy, must be down-right, honest 
 an ebullition which we not only would not, but can not re 
 strain. A strained laugh has the effect of a serpent s hiss, a 
 savage s howl, the child-like cry of the hawk. It tells of mis 
 chief. Beware ! 
 
 But the parties know each other. 
 
 The laughter subsides, and both faces suddenly sink into 
 gravity. An honest laugh subsides slowly. It is like a gener 
 ous sunset which leaves its sweet soft purplish tints upon the 
 sky, even when the parent smile is gone from sight. 
 
 There is no smile now on either face. Each looks gravely 
 upon the floor or the table. Travis rises, restlessly, and lights 
 his pipe which he has laid upon the mantelpiece. 
 
 " Will you drink. Captain Travis ?" asks tnc younger politi 
 cian in deliberate accents, measuring every syllable, and rap 
 ping his snuff-box with nice manner ere he pinches. 
 
 " Drink ! I don t care if I do, captain. What have you 
 got?" 
 
 "Jamaica and Monongahela, both." 
 
 And the speaker r> ;e slowly, placed his thumb and fore 
 
A PAIR OP ARCADIANS. 299 
 
 finger to his nostril, sneezed with moderate emphasis, laid the 
 Bimff-box in a particular place upon the table, took out his 
 pocket-handkerchief, passed it deliberately about his upper lip, 
 returned it to his- pocket, and made three steps to his closet, 
 when he produced two royally large black bottles, both square, 
 and both half filled with liquor. 
 
 " The Jamaica is particularly old, Captain Travis. It is part 
 of a small supply which I had the good fortune to secure, during 
 my last visit to Charleston, at the sale of some confiscated effects 
 of Gadsden, and some other of the rebel gentry. The Monon- 
 gahela, is of some age also, but it has no family characteristics 
 to recommend it. It is a good creature, however, as good as 
 the district can furnish of its age." 
 
 All this was spoken in low tones, very slowly, drawlingly in 
 fact, Avith a slight" nasal twang, which might, however, be due 
 to the snuff, which Inglehardt too freely used, rather than to the 
 natural tones of his voice. The whole manner of the man was 
 artificial. His true nature was to be found in art that i, in 
 the exclusive sovereignty of his mental constitution. 
 
 " The Monongahela for me," said Travis. " I am half in 
 clined to think that the Jamaica is hurtful. The whiskey never 
 affects the brain or liver. The Jamaica does both." 
 
 And he poured out, as he spoke, a moderate stoup of the 
 liquor, which he only dashed with water. Inglehardt was even 
 more moderate. He drank but little. Abstinence was among 
 his virtues. He never suffered his wits to escape from the leash 
 of will and prudence. 
 
 " Neither troubles mine, I think." 
 
 " Hah ! you never give them a chance. You are afraid of 
 the bottle." 
 
 "Not afraid only non-committal." 
 
 " A politician even in your liquors, as in your prayers." 
 
 " Truth. I give myself up to no excess in either. You may 
 fijifely trust that Monongahela, captain. It is mild with age, 
 and gentle in degree with its purity." 
 
 " What say you then to a stoup together of equal measure ? 
 Approve your eulogium by your own practice." 
 
 " Ah ! if I dared ; but I have not the head for it." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you have head enough for anything. As for any 
 
300 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 danger to your head from anything that both of us could drink, 
 I should say it was impossible. Your head is as stubborn as 
 mine, as capable of endurance; nay, more so; only try it; 
 have faith in yourself, and yield up a trifle more of your life to 
 the follies of it. After all, there are rr.dMierits when I fancy 
 that drinking is one of the best panaceas for t:\uHe. If I 
 had my attic full of that old Madeira which the parish gentry 
 soak daily, I should perhaps give myself no trouble about the 
 workings of my own brain, or that of my neighbors." 
 
 " That fierce old baron, Sinclair, is said to have his attic full 
 to overflowing of the oldest in the country." 
 
 This was spoken with unwonted abruptness for so delicate a 
 speaker. But Travis was on his guard. He answered care 
 lessly, and with great indifference of manner. 
 
 " So I hear ! He has wealth enough for it. But his case is 
 A warning against old Madeira. He has a pipe of it in his 
 legs gout-casks which he can tap, and wouldn t willingly 
 
 cany.* 
 
 " But the Madeira is a gout-remedy." 
 
 " So the fools say ! It is the disease itself. The gout, like 
 most of the diseases of rich men, comes out of the kitchen and 
 the cellar." 
 
 " Nay, we know that it is hereditary." 
 
 " Ah ! that sounds authoritative ; but you are nearer the 
 mark to say that habits are hereditary. The son is apt to live 
 as his father taught him, and to suffer from the same sauces 
 They both spice the broth after an hereditary measure, and havt 
 hereditary puncheons in their pegs, accordingly. Catch the 
 spawn of the old fish, and transplant to other waters, if you 
 would take out of their scales the taint of the old mud. I 
 doubt if you- ever knew a son who was rescued from his father s 
 examples, before he is able to perceive them, who ever exhibited 
 his father s infirmities, physical or moral." 
 
 Inglehardt seemed to muse, and fingered and tapped his 
 snuff-box, and fed his nostrils tenderly ; then wiped his upper 
 lip with an easy gesture, restored his kerchief to his pocket, 
 and said all of a sudden: 
 
 " You* have tasted of old Sinclair s winel" 
 
 This was said carelessly, though quickly Travis in a mo" 
 
A PAIR OF ARCADIANS. 301 
 
 that it meant really "I know that you have 
 bee/i 10 see him lately." He perceived the snare. He saw 
 . thac any effort at evasion would involve him in deeper suspicion , 
 he determined upon a frank manner, at all events, and as free 
 a revelation of the truth as he deemed it good policy to make 
 These reflections cost him not a moment ; and he replied : 
 
 "That I have, and first-rate liquor it is. It deserves its rep 
 utation. I paid the old soldier a visit some five weeks ago 
 bought a hundred beeves of him and he very civilly insisted 
 upcu my dining with him was very gracious, indeed, and 
 gave me of the best. The bottles he put on the table were 
 crushed with cobwebs. The wine was then twenty-nine years 
 old. He mentioned, with a chuckle, that my Lords Rawdon 
 and Fitzgerald, had brought up bottom, after earnest soundings 
 from no less than a score of bottles in one evening." 
 
 The wily Inglehardt was baffled. 
 
 " How the d 1 !" thought Travis to himself, " did he get at 
 that visit? I had taken every precaution !" 
 
 Of course, he knew, from the question of Inglehardt, that he 
 had made the discovery. The only mode left him was to an 
 ticipate exposure by frankness, and disarm it. He could not 
 disarm suspicion ; but he might baffle evidence. 
 
 " Ah ! my Lords Rawdon and Fitzgerald. So Fitzgerald has 
 been there ! That must have been just when I was laid on my 
 back by this troublesome wound. No dsubt they relished the- 
 old fellow s wine. They can t get such wine in England." 
 
 " No, indeed ; Carolina s the region for the ripening of Ma 
 deira. Zounds, my lips smack of its flavor at the very recollec 
 tion. I wish I had a thousand bottles of it the contents of 
 his garret would probably yield quite as many." 
 
 " And why should you not, Captain Travis ?" 
 
 " How should I ? I d like to know the process." 
 
 " It is an easy one when the work of confiscation becomes 
 general, and spreads a little more from the seaboard into the 
 interior." 
 
 " Ah ! but how will it affect him \ Why, he is as fierce and 
 stubborn a loyalist as any in the country." 
 
 " Words ! words ! Do you suppose that his mere profession 
 of loyalty will sav, his estates, in the teeth of his son s active 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 rebellion ? Will his majesty s government suffer his estates to 
 fa 1 ! into the hands of the rebel, simply because his father " 
 fessed a fidelity which he did not sustain in any other w* v 
 I see no reason why the Sinclair Barony should not fall inti 
 the general stock, and reward some true subject who has shown 
 himself in deeds, as well as words." 
 
 " Truly, if such be the prospect before us, the pickings will 
 he considerable. The old Barony would cut up famously, l^n 
 old Sinclair is strong with Rawdon and Balfour, and I suspect 
 tV-e property will all be covered by the name of the daugn- 
 ter." 
 
 " Well, she will reward some good loyalist who has carried 
 a sword in action, for his active services. Somehow, the prop 
 erty must go into the proper hands. The only doubt reallv i* 
 about the issue of the war." 
 
 " But can that be doubtful ?" 
 
 Nobody better knew how doubtful was the result than the 
 speaker ; in fact, he was chiefly occupied at this very moment, 
 in preparing against this doubt. But he knew that Inglehardt 
 was sounding him. It was the cue of Travis to make the other 
 believe that he himself had no sort of question that the British 
 arms would be successful. The policy of Inglehardt depended 
 upon this success ; and, as most persons can easily be persuaded 
 of what they wish, Travis took for granted that, though he 
 seemed to intimate a doubt of the final issue, he yet felt none. 
 Still, Inglehardt was not unwilling to suggest to liis companion 
 the fear which he hardly felt himself. He replied : 
 
 " There s no saying. Troops do not arrive with sufficient 
 rapidity from England." 
 
 " Three fresh Irish regiments only the other day," answered 
 the other. 
 
 " Yes ; but not meant for this colony designed for Virginia, 
 and only permitted to be used by Lord Rawdon temporarily, 
 in the necessity of relieving Ninety-Six. Then, you see, these 
 Irish troops are not to be relied on. The moment they get an 
 opportunity they desert and join the rebels. They entertain 
 no love for the British flag. No ! our best chances depend 
 upon the loyal Americans, and they come in very slowly now. 
 Here have I been recruiting for a month, and have succeeded 
 
A PAIR OF ARCADIAN S. 303 
 
 in picking up only sixteen raw. fellows, hardly worth their salt. 
 Things, I fear, begin to look suspicious." 
 
 This was said with great gravity and deliberation, and a melan 
 choly shaking of the head. But Travis knew his man. "He hopes," 
 such was his mental reflection, "to win me on to let out my own 
 calculation. But I know better than to commit myself to him by 
 declaring my true conviction. No, no, Master Inglehardt, you don t 
 catch this weasel asleep !" Then, aloud, and with some show of 
 disquiet : 
 
 " Pshaw ! Captain Inglehardt, you are in a croaking humor to-day. 
 You surprise me by such notions. As for Great Britain lacking 
 troops, or being compelled to rely upon native Americans, that seems 
 to me one of the idlest fancies in the world. Our loyalist troops are 
 but a drop in the bucket." 
 
 "By Jupiter! Captain Travis, they are pretty much all that 
 are worth having in the bucket. Look how the British armies 
 are now made up. The veteran troops are nearly all American. 
 The Hessians are pretty much used up ; the Scotch regiments 
 are not half full ; the Irish desert when they can, are perpetu 
 ally mutinying, their officers dare not rely upon them, and 
 tremble, when they go into action, lest their own bayonets 
 should be the first at their bosoms. Half of Lord Rawdon s 
 force at Camden were loyalists ; of the thousand men of Fergu 
 son, that gave up to the mountaineers, at King s mountain, more 
 than nine hundred were American born. And who but native 
 Americans have kept the post of Ninety-six, under Cruger, so 
 long against the whole of the rebel army of Greene ? I tell you, 
 Captain Travis, that the forces of Great Britain, now in the South, 
 would be swallowed up everywhere, but for the rifles of our own 
 people." 
 
 "And if this be so, Captain Inglehardt which I am very 
 far from admitting what better proof can we have of the 
 ultimate success of our cause ? If, keeping her own powers in 
 reserve, Great Britain can so direct the resources supplied by 
 the loyal population, as to keep the rebels in subjection, do you not 
 see that she can, at any moment, achieve the fullest results of victory, 
 by only a slight increase of the foreign forces ?" 
 
 " Ay, but has she kept her own forces in reserve ? Has she 
 not employed them to the uttermost? Why did she need to 
 
$04 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 hire and buy the Hessians ? Clearly, because her own peo 
 ple hi eked numbers, or were reluctant to join the war. The 
 Scotch are not a numerous people. England herself cut oft too 
 l:ir.>;e a proportion of the Highland Scotch, not to feel the want 
 jf them now. The Irish are unfaithful and not to be trusted. 
 What then ? She now depends upon them, chiefly, as the re 
 served powers of which you speak; and these, with our na 
 tive Americans, constitute all her strength here at present. 
 When you add to this, that the drain upon the British treasury 
 for six years, will hardly now suffer her to hire more troops, or 
 even pay those who are in arms at present, you will see that I 
 have some good reasons for holding the present issue doubtful." 
 
 Now, Inglehardt had truly painted the condition of Great 
 Britain, the exhaustion equally of her men and money j but, 
 strange to say, he did not himself fully believe in the extent of 
 the danger as he described it; he believed still only as he 
 wished ; but his subtle policy was to persuade Travis that he 
 himself was beginning to be affected by those arguments, which 
 he had reason to think had been already adopted by Travis, 
 of his own reasoning. If Travis, now, should only be so far 
 deluded into the notion that he, Inglehardt, like himself, was 
 beginning to meditate how best to prepare for the backdoor of 
 retreat and, thus persuaded, should let something of his own 
 meditations to this effect be seen, he should secure such further 
 hold upon the father of Bertha Travis, as would most effectual 
 ly place him in his power. 
 
 But the old politician was not so easily gulled. He laughed 
 at the gloomy picture which the other had painted of the future. 
 
 "No !" said he, " Great Britain is like a rock against which 
 all the waves of rebellion, though numerous as billows of the 
 Atlantic, would chafe and beat in vain. The mother-country 
 is only economical of her resources. She has adopted the true 
 policy of making us fight the battle with as little cost to her 
 self as possible. When it is necessary to put forth her strength 
 
 her men and money they will not be wanting. Do not de 
 spond, Inglehardt. There is nothing to fear nothing to doubt 
 
 there is no danger that the rebel power will ever succeed. 
 As you yourself have shown, the native loyalists have proved 
 iuihj a sufficient match, almost alone, for the native rebel? 
 
A PAIR OF ARCADIANS, 305 
 
 One error the British government has made, and that, indeed, 
 is a serious one, because so full of injustice. It is a wonder, 
 indeed, that it has not worked for her the most mischievous 
 results." 
 
 " What is that ?" 
 
 "She expects us to find her the troops, yet refuses to let us 
 find the general officers. At best, all that our distinguished 
 young men can get from her, is a colonelcy, a majority, a cap 
 taincy. They are not trusted as generals of brigade or division 
 have few discretionary trusts confided to them ; yet could I 
 pick out a score or two of natives, of this one province, who are 
 far better fitted to plan a pitched battle than half that are now 
 in command in the British armies. This is a blind policy. It 
 is the one which Britain pursued all through the French and 
 Indian wars, and it cost us immense loss in blood and treasure. 
 It has cost us this very rebellion, which never would have 
 taken place in the South, had not our own able men been every 
 where thrust upon the shelves. Why, for example, should you, 
 remain five years a captain only, when such persons as Barry, 
 and Sheridan, Mad Campbell, Fool Campbell, Bulldog Campbell, 
 and Weasel Campbell, all take higher rank. I know you, and 
 so do they; and they know, as I do, that you are better fitted 
 for a colonelcy of foot or dragoons than any one of these people. 
 Yet, after all your services, for six years, you are just in the 
 same position as when you brought your own company into camp. 
 If they could have taken your captaincy from you, without dis 
 couraging all the loyalists, do you suppose that it would not have been 
 given to some favorite, some younger son of an old house, who was 
 found too troublesome, or expensive at home ? Certainly, this policy 
 has done more toward keeping back the royal cause from triumph, 
 than anything besides." 
 
 The speech of Travis was an adroit one. It was, in some 
 degree, turning the tables upon his companion, insinuating an 
 argument, ad hominem, which, in a case of even moderate self- 
 esteem, might be found to tell. In other respects, the remarks 
 of the speaker betrayed such perfect confidence in the power of 
 Great Britain to effect the final conquest of the country, that it 
 threw Inglehardt off from the chase of the one idea he had pur 
 sued, though it did by no means persuade him to any faith in 
 
80B THE FORAYlL RS. 
 
 Le honesty of tho speaker in the professions he had made. AM 
 for the adroit appeal to his own pride, in the reference to the 
 neglect oi native merit, and its slow promotion, the bait did nol 
 take; though, we may add, sub rosa, that Inglehardt had been 
 laboring secretly (was it a secret to Travis?) for a higher 
 command, and had found his wishes invariably set aside, in 
 favor of some young springald, of famous blood, and broken 
 fortunes, from the mother-country. He felt the truth of what 
 Travis urged accordingly ; but it failed of its effect, in disarm 
 ing him of his suspicions of the speaker, simply because he felt 
 that the point was urged with the evident purpose to act upon 
 himself. The wily man will distrust every argument, however 
 true and just, which he feels to be suggested with a specific 
 purpose, which is yet not openly avowed. 
 
 " Well," said he, somewhat musingly, and feeding his nostrils 
 again from the snuff-box "I am glad that you think so well 
 of our general prospect. I confess that I had some misgivings, 
 But what you say seems reasonable enough. It is clearly the 
 policy of Great Britain to fight the rebels at as little cost of 
 men and money as she can. I only hope that she may not car 
 ry her economy too far. War is an expensive luxury in which 
 one can not exercise a very nice economy. Men wish to be 
 paid well for the privilege of being shot and bayoneted. It is 
 only the gold in the pouch that reconciles one to the prospect 
 of lead in the paunch. As for this army favoritism, you may 
 be right in some degree, Captain Travis. There is quite too 
 much of it. In respect to myself, why, I certainly should not 
 quarrel with his majesty s seal to a commission making me ma 
 jor of brigade, or giving me an independent legion. The thing 
 lias certainly occurred to me, but more as a something I had a 
 right to expect, than because of any earnest desire that I have 
 for it. But, as a poor captain of rangers, I am not uncomforta 
 ble. It is a snug command, easily managed, and, if I have only 
 a small trust, I am relieved from all heavy responsibilities. If 
 I receive no favors, I am at least not burdened with the sense 
 of obligation. The neglect of my services does not mortify me 
 to a loss of my appetite." 
 
 You are more philosophical than I should be than most 
 
A PAIR OF ARCADIANS. 307 
 
 persons are," answered the other. " I am glad that I have sur 
 vived all rny military ambition." 
 
 " Yes but you have not survived all your appetites" replied 
 the other, with a smile which was something of a sneer 
 " Your ambition is more modest, captain, than some of your 
 other passions. A commissariat is not a bad sphere for making 
 friends with fortune. In truth, such is my modesty, that I do 
 not know but I should be willing to exchange places with 
 you." 
 
 " You would soon sicken of it," answered Travis, somewhat 
 hastily. 
 
 " Never, because of surfeit," replied Inglehardt. " But I do 
 not quarrel with your good fortune. I keep in mind the fact 
 that your operations, with your economy, must all result in the 
 prosperity of your future son-in law." 
 
 " Bertha Travis will be in comfortable circumstances should 
 anything happen to me," replied the affectionate fathe,, some 
 what evasively. 
 
 "Why, Captain Travis, she will be a millionaire. Talk 
 of comfortable circumstances, indeed ! I would venture to say 
 that, by the time this rebellion is crushed, you will be one of 
 the richest men in the province." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you talk wildly. Only comfortable comfortable ! 
 A moderate estate, which, well managed, will enable a small 
 family to live independently." 
 
 " No more ? Well, fortunately, Bertha Travis herself is one 
 of those treasures which would sufficiently reconcile me to such 
 a moderate prospect of fortune. By-the-way, Travis, this thing 
 drags a little too heavily. Though apt to take most things 
 coolly, yet I confess, in the matter of the affections, I am 
 rather an eager, impatient person." 
 
 And the speaker uttered these words even more deliberately 
 and drawlingly than usual, and resorted to his snuffbox, slowly 
 tapping it first, then segregating, with the thumb and forefinger, 
 the smallest possible particles from the mass, and feeding with 
 it, as a young lady would feed canary or humming bird, the 
 Rightly reddened tips of his sharply-elongated nose. 
 
 Travis thought to himself: -" Now d n the skunk, does he 
 expect me to believe, or does lie himself believe, that he has 
 
308 THE FORAYER8. 
 
 got any warm blood in his veins ! He impatient ! By Heavens, 
 an ounce of impatience in hjs blood would prove of letter uso 
 to himself and to all other persons, than all the virtues in his 
 c.lrcass." 
 
 But Travis did not venture to speak aloud such " parlously" 
 offensive matter. The reflection was instantaneous, and did 
 not prevent him from a sufficiently prompt reply. 
 
 " It. is not my fault, Inglehardt, that the affair drags so 
 slowly." 
 
 "I am afraid, my dear fellow, that it ts your fault." 
 
 " How 1 I have done all that I could. T have urged your 
 tause to Bertha " 
 
 " No, Travis, you have not done all that you could ; and 
 there are such modes of urging a cause as infallibly to defeat 
 it." 
 
 " You do not mean to accuse me of bad faith, Inglehardt?" 
 
 " Not exactly that ! 1 flatter myself, that, putting out of 
 sight altogether what is evidently your preference and policy, 
 I possess certain securities for your good faith, the value of 
 which no one better knows than yourself. Now, I feel sure 
 that you are not heedless of these securities, and I could almost 
 persuade myself that, apart from these, your policy perceives, 
 in my union with Bertha Travis, the greatest advantages to 
 both. Let her once be mine, and our united strength renders 
 us both secure, and enables us to work with more confidence 
 upon the British authorities. Then, indeed, I might secure 
 tliis colonelcy assuming it to be an object of real importance 
 and desire ; and, instead of a mere deputy commissary, you 
 might pass into the department as its head. Why will you 
 not see these advantages as I do ?" 
 
 " I do see them I am certainly not blind." 
 
 " Hardly with open eyes, Travis, or you would do something 
 more for their promotion." 
 
 " I do all that I can. I have urged your -jlaims upon Ber 
 tha." 
 
 " Ay, you have said This man seeks you, and I could wish 
 that you would be pleased to see in him a marvellous proper, 
 person. That is all; is that urging my claims? Look you, my 
 amiable father-in-law, that is to be ought to be, at least 
 
A . - IB O* ^EADIANS. 809 
 
 and will be, if he knows where wisdom and safety lie together, 
 look you is this the time, or is yours the situation, when 
 you can suffer the tastes and prejudices of a silly young girl, 
 nat as yet knows nothing, to pule about her heart, and her af 
 fections, and all that stuff? Shall the plans, the schemes, the 
 fortunes nay, the very safety of men, be jeoparded by such 
 absurd pleadings? She does not love me; well? In all 
 your experiences of the sex, how many of them have loved 
 wisely ? how many have married where they did not honestly 
 love, and yet passed a very comfortable life of it ? Why should 
 Bertha Travis not love me ? I am not an Adonis, true ; but I 
 have tolerably comely proportions. Do you not suppose that 
 I will make her quite as happy to talk in the ridiculous dia 
 lect of vulgar people as that insolent fellovv Sinclair? I am 
 not brutal of habit, arn not a profligate liver, have my tastes, as 
 you know nay, pride myseK " littlf 1 up A ". them have had 
 a very tolerable education, and believe that I can carry 
 myseli qiule as much as a gentleman, as any aristocrat in th 
 parishes. You do not believe I know that there is any 
 prospect of your daughter forfeiting the usual amount of human 
 happiness in becoming my wife?" 
 
 It was delightful to note the cool deliberate sweetness 
 with which all this was spoken slowly, softly, and sprinkled 
 with the finest of Scotch snuff, in frequent parentheses. 
 Travis was getting uneasy. He was not an impulsive man, but 
 he had more ardor, and was more impatient than his antagonist,, 
 to whom this difference gave a decided advantage. He ai> 
 bwered : 
 
 " No ! no ! I have no doubt that you will make my claugh 
 ter as happy as anybody else; and I have urge 3 , upon her 
 these very arguments. I have counselled, entreated, argued the 
 matter with her " 
 
 11 A moment, my dear Travis, a moment. This is going over 
 old ground. You have told me of these pleas and arguments 
 before Of course they did not convince Bertha Travis, and 
 of course, also, they do not satisfy me. She is a young damsel, 
 who has had very much her own way, and is tickled just now 
 with certain girlish fancies, which persuade her that one Willie 
 Sinclair, majov of dragoons in the rebel service, is the only true 
 
310 THti 
 
 God in the heaven of a young girl s heart. Now, i young 
 woman s fancy, having such a tickler, is not prepared to listen 
 to an old man s prosing philosophies, meant to persuade her into 
 quite another sort of fancy for another sort of man. No ! no ! 
 no argument of man, however wise in reason and profound in 
 policy, could ever hold its ground, or make any impression, 
 against a young girl s fancy. Her fancy, my dear good Travis, 
 becomes her religion. She has no other faith for the time being 
 
 not till she gets a new fancy, potent enough to push the old 
 one from its place," 
 
 "Why, what would you have me to do? I have tried 
 I have told her " 
 
 " Suffer me again, my dear captain. Suppose that, instead 
 of a dozen, you had urged these arguments upon her a thousand 
 times ? What then ? Do you deceive yourself with the notion 
 that a mere repetition, however frequently made, of an argu 
 ment, or a plea, which the ear of the hearer refuses to receive, 
 will avail you anything more than a single urging? The mere 
 repetition of a plea or a petition, which was held to be distaste* 
 ful at the first, only renders it more and more distasteful as you 
 continue to urge i" 
 
 " What would you have me do ?" 
 
 "Have you told her, sir that this marriage is necessary to 
 your safety ? That, unless it takes place, her father is in danger 
 of being punished as a swindler, as a forger of false accounts, 
 as a speculator of the public moneys, as, in short, a traitor to 
 the cause of his majesty, George the Third, king of Great Bri 
 tain, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, &c. Have 
 you told her this, Captain Travis ?" 
 
 Now fancy all this matter delivered with the utmost deliber 
 ation, quietly, even gently, in the softest tones, and without a 
 single passage or word being emphasized, in obedience to the 
 requisition of its own import. Fancy all this, if you would 
 conceive the cold, stern, deliberate, strategic nature of Richard 
 Inglehardt. No wonder that a cold sweat stood upon the fore 
 head of Captain Travis as he listened. 
 
 But Travis was a man of passions. He had a quickening 
 pulse W as not without pride was a father, and a fond one 
 
 though, no doubt, a great rascal and lie irked great. ; *t 
 
A I AIR OF ARCADIANS. 811 
 
 Me cold remorseless tyranny of the man who had him in his 
 fower he, too, tht son of his overseer ! 
 
 He started from his seat, and strode across the room, his lips 
 white with rage. 
 
 " No ! Captain Inglehardt. I have told her none of these 
 things, for I believe none of them I hold none of them to be 
 true." 
 
 " Ah ! my friend, you are rash now. You are surely forgetful 
 of all your reason and experience. I do not wish to wound 
 your pride, or rouse your passion. My appeal is to your com- 
 mon sense !" 
 
 " D n common sense." 
 
 "As you please after you have heard. Now do me the 
 kindness to examine these papers. You need not be angry with 
 them, and seek to destroy them or you may it matters not. 
 They are only copies. You will find there some memoranda 
 which would be of considerable interest to Colonel Balfour in 
 the future discussion of your accounts. You will see that the 
 facts can all be established by good witnesses. I need not tell 
 you that I am in possession of all tKe facts, and all the clues, to 
 your transactions for government during the last three years. 
 I need not add to a gentleman of such clear understanding as 
 yourself, that these proofs, laid before either of the generals of 
 the crown would lead to the confiscation of other estates than 
 those of old Sinclair. I gave you a proof of these papers on a 
 previous occasion, my dear Travis. Why will you force me * 
 idle reiteration." 
 
 All this was articulated with admirable slowness, softness, 
 and subdued manner, while a most gentle smile lighted up the 
 amiable eyes of the speaker. But the speech did not much 
 mitigate the indignation of Travis. He snatched the proffered 
 papers from the hands of the speaker, dashed them on the floor, 
 and stamped them under feet, saying, as he did so : 
 
 " Ay, sir, but you used no such offensive language when you 
 spoke of tin s matter before. You spoke of it only as certain 
 mistakes and miscalculations in my accounts, and never dared to 
 apply such epithets to my name as you have just now. Now, 
 Captain Inglehardt, I give you to know that though fifty years 
 of age twice your age, sir I have not lost the capacity, 01 
 
312 THE FOBAYERS. 
 
 survived the spirit, which would resent or punish )ffence. You 
 presume, sir, on a fancied power, to offer insult. But, beware, 
 sir ! Another repetition of this offence, and the terms between 
 us must be blood sir blood ! your blood or mine." 
 
 ^nglehardt listened to this outburst with amazing cairn. He 
 sniffed at the snuff while the other Avas speaking and kerchiefed 
 hisnose with praiseworthy care and deliberation. When Travis 
 ceased, he answered in the sweetest temper : 
 
 " My dear captain, you are unnecessarily angry. I had no 
 purpose to make you so. As for the issue which you threaten, 
 I have only to pray that when the storm comes I may have a 
 dry roof over me. But pistols will hardly be taken in evidence 
 against the truth ; pistols will do little to settle my accounts 
 with you, or yours with the crowu. You may judge for your 
 self, by a single moment of reflection, of what avail they will be 
 here between us, and in the adjustment of our little differences. 
 Either what I say is true, or it is not. If not true, you have 
 only to defy the charge, and concede nothing that I demand in 
 the belief that it is true. If true, and the matter should involve 
 your safety in any wise, as I most respectfully think it does, 
 then you know the terms upon which, alone, the evidence is to 
 be suppressed. Suffer me to repeat them. You are within 
 three weeks to possess me of the hand of your daughter. I 
 care not what arguments you use I but suggested to you such 
 as you might use, and such as would probably prove effectual 
 and leave it to you to find better if you can. Once more 
 your daughter s hand to be mine in three weeks, sir three 
 weeks, Captain Travis ! Three weeks may be held a liberal 
 term of time, added to a negotiation which has been in progress 
 nearly three years, in all which time, sir, I have been in pos 
 session of many other little proofs of errors in your accounts 
 which I have foreborne to include in that catalogue." 
 
 The whole manner of this speech was cruelly civil, moderate 
 of tone even gentle and so very deliberate ! 
 
 For a moment Travis glared upon the speaker with eyes of 
 ill-suppressed hostility. But he tamed himself down, with a 
 few hurried strides about the room, during which Inglehardt 
 wonderfully kept his composure and his chair. Suddenly Travis 
 atood before him. 
 
A PAIR OF ARCAD ANS. 313 
 
 " You are bent on driving me to the Avail, Captain Ingieliardt." 
 
 "No, sir only in keeping you from falling under the wall 
 I so admire your fortunes and the prospect before you, that I 
 would unit.. .11 line with yours. Why will you persist in seeing 
 anything unfriendly in this ?" 
 
 " Why press this matter just now ? Why not wait till the 
 war is over ?" 
 
 " I do not see why love should wait on war a single moment. 
 In the days of chivalry they went hand in hand together 
 Shall I eat no sweets to-day, because I may be slain in battle to 
 morrow. Nay, is not that very danger good reason why I should 
 enjoy my sweets to-night ? Because nations fight, and I wear 
 harness like the rest, shall I forswear wiving ; or shall the woman 
 I love be tutored not to wed me, lest I never come home from 
 battle. In brief, Captain Travis, I have resolved, and you 
 know to what extent. You have my ultimatum. Briefly, Avill 
 you pledge me the hand of Bertha Travis, the marriage to take 
 effect three weeks from this day not a day later. Understand 
 me, it. must be your positive pledge, now I shall not be con 
 tent with any promise that you will plead to her again after the 
 old fashion. Will you give me this pledge 1 ?" 
 
 The other hurriedly paced the room in silence. He felt him- 
 slf in the toils; but he had a refuge, and his secret thought 
 that of the veteran politician always readily suggested that to 
 gain time was to gain escape. Three weeks embody a world 
 of possibilities. The domain of chance is always a refuge to 
 one in an emergency. Besides he had his own schemes 
 and these were rapidly ripening to fulfilment. Three weeks 
 were all that he desired for these. He determined, as it were 
 desperately ; and, turning to his antagonist, said : 
 
 " Captain Ingieliardt, you hold me and my daughter to hard 
 conditions. You may be a good man and may prove a good 
 
 husband, but by you are one of the d dest cold-blooded 
 
 tyrants whom I know ! But enough ! I give you my pledge. 
 It shall be as you say. In three weeks ! I yield, sir. You 
 have taken an ungenerous advantage, and I submit ! But that 
 shall not make me think more favorably of your mind and heart 
 You are, i" repeat, a most cold-blooded and deliberate tyrant 
 where you have the power !" 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 The other smiled with satanic sweetness. 
 
 " You do me wrong, Travis. A lover is justified in his exac 
 tions in due degree with the extremity of his passion. Come, 
 sir! let us drink the wedding-day this time, i^ a more classi- 
 cal beverage than either Jamaica or Monongueia. Here, sir, 
 is a bottle of old Madeira not, perhaps, so old ag that of Baron 
 Sinclair s, but of more sterling body." 
 
 " Thank you, no ! I will not drink another drop with you to 
 day ! I would I could never see you again, Richard Inglehardt 
 never ! never !" 
 
 The other, this time, laughed and such a short choking 
 laugh, that Travis hastily bade him good day, and looking still 
 as angry as ever, darted out of the room. 
 
 " Remember your pledge, Captain Travis," the other called 
 after him, almost as deliberately as ever "Remember, sir! 
 Remember!" 
 
 And when he had gone, the eyes of Inglehardt darkened into 
 a scowl and he muttered : 
 
 " I have him Hinder my heel have her at my mercy, or will 
 have her and we shall soon see who shall be the scorned and 
 who the scorner ? He can not elude me can not escape and 
 he knows it ! He will and must use the arguments I have put 
 into his mouth, and she must submit. Ha I ha ! She shall to 
 the altar, or he to the halter !" 
 
MEETING OF TuAYJn AND SINCLAIR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 MEETING OF TRAVIS AND SINCLAIR. 
 
 Sirrah, go up and wind toward Buckley s lodge: 
 I ll cast about the bottom with my hound, 
 And I will meet thee under Cony-oak." 
 
 Merry Devil of Edmonton. 
 
 You suppose, no doubt, that Travis disappeared from the 
 chamber of Inglehardt in a towering passion that he was 
 fairly and uncomfortably cornered driven to the wall, as he 
 himself phrased it ! Not a bit of it ! His most admirable 
 effects of passion were all simulated. He had really gained a 
 point in the game. His policy was to lull his antagonist into 
 the belief that he was at his mercy in order to gain the very 
 time that was accorded him. His vexation and rage were 
 meant to show that he felt himself foiled, detected, exposed, in 
 danger ; that he had no further chance of escape, or means of 
 evasion ; and, therefore, that his surrender, at discretion, was a 
 necessity, which he honestly acknowledged and submitted to, 
 however unwillingly. Of course, if he were not conquered, 
 why lose his temper ? If he had any other weapons of argu 
 ment or evasion, why use his tongue why hint at pistols? 
 Briefly, Travis, however apparently chafed and excited when 
 he left his antagonist, was really quite satisfied with the result 
 of the interview. It did not appear that Inglehardt had made 
 any neAv discoveries of importance, except the single fact of his 
 having visited old Sinclair and dined at his table ; a fact which 
 had its business justification public business too; and, in re 
 spect to all this affair, Travis flattered himself that he had am- 
 ply baffled the inquisitor. 
 
 Three weeks were thus gained ! Three weeks, at this par 
 ticular juncture, and with such plans as he had in meditation 
 
THE F011AYEBS.. 
 
 ripening rapidly for the future, were an eternity ! They prom 
 ised him all the time that he desired. His daughter should not 
 be sacrificed to such a cold-blooded and paltry despot ! Travis 
 loved his daughter, we may state, quite as fondly as it was in 
 his power to love anything. He would have cheerfully sacri 
 ficed his wealth, well or ill acquired, to the happiness of his 
 two children. Let this be taken in allowance, as a human 
 set-off to his otherwise slavish propensity t& gain. He was 
 still capable of some sacrifice of self for the happiness of an 
 other. 
 
 Travis had a room at Jack Baltezegar s. When he went 
 thither, from the chamber of Inglehardt, he found certain per 
 sons awaiting him on business ; for he still acted, it must be re 
 membered, as a sort of sub-commissary of the British army in 
 Carolina. He dined at Baltezegar s and took his way home 
 ward at a moderately early hour in the afternoon. He had 
 ridden some two miles after crossing the Edisto bridge, when 
 he was startled by discovering a stranger suddenly riding out 
 of the woods on his left, and joining him. At first, lie did not 
 recognise the new-comer, till the voice of Willie Sinclair made 
 him known. He rejoiced at the meeting. This interview was 
 a necessary part of those maturing plans, by which Travis cal 
 culated to foil the cunning and the treachery of Richard Ingle 
 hardt, It was an honest welcome, therefore, that he gave to 
 our major of dragoons in the eager speech : 
 
 " Major Sinclair, I am truly glad to see you." 
 
 Travis really desired to see his daughter the wife of Sin 
 clair. He honored the young man honored his family posi 
 tion, and was right well pleased that his daughter s affections 
 squared so happily with his own projects and desires. The 
 meeting seemed a pleasant omen. 
 
 " I have kept my word, Captain Travis." 
 
 " And I will keep mine, sir," answered the other with earnest 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Let us ride into the thicket, sir," said Sinclair, " and confer 
 at once upon this matter." 
 
 Why not go home with me ? We can talk there in perfect 
 safety." 
 
 " NO, sir ; I must risk nothing just now ! I prefer that our 
 
MEETING OF TRAVIS AND SINCLAIR. 317 
 
 conference should take place in this wood. It is the safer 
 place." 
 
 "Do not sht w yourself suspicious, Major Sinclair," said the 
 other. " I am dealing with you honorably." 
 
 " So I hope, sir so, indeed, I believe ! But caution does 
 not necessarily imply suspicion, Captain Travis, and even if it 
 lid, in the present instance, it by no means regards you as its 
 object. But T have reason to think that my steps are watched, 
 v.-hile at your plantation. I am half inclined to think they are 
 dogged now. And with such a wily enemy as Richard Ingle 
 hardt in the neighborhood, as I am told he is, one can not be 
 too vigilant." 
 
 " You are right, sir. He is a wily rascal ! a liquid serpent, 
 who will glide into the porches of your dwelling, and coil him 
 self in a corner, yet sound no rattle. I have just parted with 
 him, and we have had a long, and, on my side, an angry con 
 ference. But I have thrown him off the scent. It will be pru 
 dent, indeed, that you should not appear, just now, at my plan- 
 lation. It might undo much that I flatter myself has been well 
 done." 
 
 And, thus speaking, Travis followed Sinclair deep into the 
 right-hand wood. The two forced their way forward through 
 its thickest recesses, till they drew rein within a hundred yards 
 of the river. Here they dismounted ; and, each holding his 
 bridle by the hand, they prepared to seat themselves upon a 
 fallen tree. Travis had actually found a spot, and had turned 
 his back, about to sit upon the tree, when Sinclair grasped his 
 wrist suddenly, and drew him away. 
 
 " What s the matter ?" 
 
 " Your friend Inglehardt is just behind you." 
 
 "The d Iheis!" 
 
 He turned and looked where Sinclair pointed, and the crest 
 of a rattlesnake, in his coil, was perceptible, raised directly be 
 hind the log where he was about to seat himself. Giving his 
 bridle into the hands of Travis, Sinclair caught up a broken 
 branch and brained the beast at a blow. Then the two seated 
 themselves. 
 
 " Well, Major Sinclair," sai< Travis, " I trust you come pre 
 
318 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 pared to adjust our business. You got my last despatch You 
 have communicated with General Marion on the subject. 
 
 " Yes, sir : I have omitted nothing which could possibly be 
 thought necessary to be known and understood between us, as 
 essential to bringing about the desired consummation of our 
 mutual objects. I understand you to say that you are prepared 
 to ally your fortunes with those of the country to shake off 
 the connection with the British, and to prove your good faith 
 by putting us in possession of such information as will materi 
 ally help our cause in future." 
 
 " More than this, Major Sinclair, I am possessed of the power 
 to hurt as well as help to hurt as seriously as help. I am 
 possessed of proofs of a conspiracy in Charleston to surprise and 
 destroy the British garrison, in that place; proofs which are 
 so conclusive, that, if once known to Balfour or Rawdon, would 
 bring sixty -three of its best citizens to the gallows. To satisfy 
 you, that I do not speak idly, I need but add that I know that 
 yon yourself have recently communicated with these same citizens 
 within the capital that you were there three days, concealed, 
 and in disguise; and that you brought away ivith you a concert 
 ed plan of operations which, I suppose, you have either delivered 
 to General Marion, or ham still in your possession ! Now, sir, 
 you see that I possess the means of hurt and injury, to as great 
 a degree, as the means of help and service to your cause." 
 
 " I would rather, Captain Travis, that you had not referred 
 to this power of hurt which you possess; would rather have 
 had you make a freewill offering of patriotism to your country, 
 however late, growing out of honest sympathies, and proper 
 convictions !" 
 
 The rebuke was uttered with cold gravity. Travis felt it, 
 though he was not the man to forego the assertion of all his ar 
 guments and resources when a bargain was to be driven. He 
 replied hastily : 
 
 " Do not mistake me, Major Sinclair. My purpose was not 
 to threaten or annoy, but simply to assure you that I do not 
 make a vain boast, when I tell you of the large value of my in 
 formation, and of the importance of those services which I can 
 render to your cause, in return for the securities which I de 
 mand <br the future. I would have you also, individually 
 
MEETING OF TRAVIS AND SINCLAIR. 319 
 
 Major Sinclair, be assured of my good faith ; a guaranty 
 "or which may be perceived in the countenance which I have 
 given you, tacitly, in your attentions to my daughter." 
 
 " Let me entreat yon, Captain Travis, to make no reference 
 f o your daughter, or to my affections in this business. These 
 are things apart, sacred, to themselves not to be sullied by 
 calculations of selfishness of any kind not to be mixed up 
 with the interests of war still less to enter into any of the 
 conditions of this present negotiation." 
 
 " Well, sir, as you please," answered the other, a little dis 
 quieted at this second rebuke, and feeling irked somewhat by 
 the proud and haughty mode in which Sinclair treated every 
 approach to subjects not actually necessary to the considera 
 tion of the one topic under view. 
 
 "You are somewhat scrupulous and nice in these matters, 
 major, but I don t know but you are right. You will forgive, 
 to a father s anxieties for his daughter s happiness, the allusion 
 which you regard as irrelevant. To our simple business then. 
 What does General Marion say to my propositions?" 
 
 " General Marion, you are aware, possesses none but mili 
 tary powers. He approves of all the propositions you make, so 
 far as they fall within his province. But the general scope of 
 your desire renders necessary the consideration of another dis 
 tinguished person and there is but one person only who can 
 decide upon it." 
 
 " I am fully aware of that ! Well, sir, will he see me 1 can 
 I have a meeting with him in person, sir? for it will be to 
 him only, in person, that I will confide my papers my facts 
 proofs " 
 
 " Read that billet, Captain Travis," said the major, handing 
 him a scrap of paper "you are acquainted with the hand 
 writing, arid will recognise the signature. You will see that I 
 have forborne nothing toward bringing about the result which 
 I desire equally with yourself and that the interview will be 
 accorded you. Everything, after that, will depend upon the 
 -alue of the evidence you offer that evidence being necessary 
 to inspire the proper degree of faith in your pledges for the 
 future." 
 
 The billet, which Travis received and read, ran as follows : 
 
820 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "If lie of II B [Holly-Dale] is honest, and will 
 
 speak tbp, truth, giving proof as he promises, he shall have the 
 guaranty which he seeks. 1 will give him the meeting. See 
 to the arrangements for it as soon as possible. We have reach 
 ed that stage of the game, when the loss of a pawn may be 
 that, of a castle; when the gain, even of a pawn, may enable ur 
 to give check-mate to a king! 
 
 " J. R." 
 
 " It is his signature!" said the other musingly. " He will 
 meet me at Holly-Dale but when?" 
 
 This was spoken eagerly, but with an air of considerable sat 
 isfaction not to say exultation. The secret feeling of Travis 
 was, indeed, one of triumph but it was because of the convic 
 tion that he was now in a fair way to shake himself free ol 
 Inglehardt, and to achieve the full security of his possessions 
 from the growing power which he began to fear beyond all 
 other that of the Revolutionists. But Sinclair regarded the 
 expression of his satisfaction with suspicion. He knew not the 
 full extent of Travis s recent fears. 
 
 " Captain Travis," said the major of dragoons " in making 
 the arrangements for this interview,* I have not at any moment 
 forgotten that I may be placing in the hands of an enemy, on$ 
 of the greatest persons in this commonwealth one who has 
 been the leading spirit of our cause in Carolina, for five years ; 
 one whose loss to us would seriously endanger our cause, at 
 this moment. I have done what most persons would think a 
 very rash thing, knowing what your course hitherto has 
 been, I have pledged my honor for your fidelity ! Now, mark 
 me, sir ; should you betray my pledges should you abuse the 
 trust reposed in you should anything happen to this distin 
 guished person, of evil, bonds, or blows, when he comes to this 
 meeting then, sir, whatever my sympathies for you how 
 ever necessarily and earnestly anxious for your safety and hap 
 piness, and for the peace and happiness of your family how 
 dear to me, I will not say ! yet will I put you to death, sir, 
 as unscrupulously as I have brained that venomous serpent 
 lying belaid us now ! My eye shall bo upon you, my hand 
 upon your throat, my weapon at your head, and as there is a 
 God in heaven, let me but see the first sign of treachery 
 
MEETING OP TRAVIS AND SiNCLAIB. 321 
 
 toward that great man, ami you die like a dog in your tracks, 
 even though I have to smite you down at the feet of Bertha 
 Travis herself." 
 
 A warm flush passed over the whole face of Travis ; but he 
 replied frankly : 
 
 " And y >u would be right, sir ! As there is a God in heaven, 
 my purpose is honest. I deal in good faith with you. He 
 .shall come to no harm. No ! Major Sinclair, if on your account 
 only he shall be safe at my hands. Ah ! sir if you would 
 only suffer me to say that, regarding you as one who is so pre 
 cious to my child, your honor is as dear to me as hers !" 
 
 " Enough, sir ! I am willing to believe you. I have shown 
 this in the pledges I have made for you. But we have so much 
 at stake so much depends upon the safety of that one man s 
 life, in the present crisis of our fortunes that the most con 
 fiding nature will feel misgivings. Forgive me that I have felt 
 it due to myself to utter threats and warnings which must be 
 offensive. I will utter no more. We understand each other." 
 
 Travis grasped his hand. They sat for some minutes both 
 in profound silence. At length 
 
 " When shall we have this meeting ?" inquired Travis. " The 
 sooner the better. Inglehardt has pushed me to a certain ex 
 tremity. If not relieved within three weeks, Bertha must be 
 come his wife." 
 
 " Ha ! Bertha his wife ! Never ! never !" 
 
 " Amen ! God knows I would sooner make any sacrifice to 
 prevent such a marriage. But it is to this meeting that I must 
 look for safety." 
 
 " Within three days you shall have it here, at Holly-Dale 
 and Heaven speed it to fortunate issues ! You must confide, 
 Mr. Travis, in the simple words of the person you will meet ! 
 Do not you be too suspicious, too exacting ! He is not the man 
 with whom to drive a bargain. Unfold yourself deliver your 
 self frankly, and leave it to his magnanimity to afford you even 
 more than you desire in return. These papers! you have 
 them safe against possibility of loss." 
 
 "Safe as the grave! They shall be forthcoming all! 
 But how shall we communicate T 
 
 "Leave that to me ! I shall contrive it. I may send you a 
 14* 
 
322 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 messenger. He shall utter but a single word to you, which 
 
 .shall prove his authority to communicate. That word is " 
 
 The sentence was finished in a whisper. 
 "Very good," said the other "and now, Major Sinclair, 
 will you give us any time at Holly-Dale ?" 
 
 " Perhaps !" with a slight smile. " But it will be well that 
 you should know nothing of my visits. It will make it easier 
 for you to deny that I have been at your plantation. You will 
 need to keep up appearances with Inglehardt. See him every 
 day, if possible. Play your game out with him fearlessly He 
 is one of those subtle scoundrels, full of trick and manseuvre, 
 whom nothing can baffle but an open game. How many men 
 has he at the village?" 
 
 " Less than twenty, I think, and all raw recruits. You might 
 crack all their crowns, and capture him at a dash, with a small 
 company." 
 
 " Ay, I might ! But the attempt might peril our present ob 
 ject occasion alarm and bring down the British upon us. 
 They are rapidly moving down from Ninety-Six. We must 
 risk nothing now unnecessarily. It may be well, too, were you 
 to prepare your family for sudden flight across the Santee. If 
 Inglehardt becomes troublesome, the region will be safe for 
 neither you nor them as soon as the British army moves into 
 the precinct. They will probably take post at the village, and 
 Greene will push them if he can. Judge for yourself what your 
 danger will be, if Inglehardt gets any inkling of your present 
 course. He is pressing you, you say. That proves him sus 
 picious already. Take warning, and be prepared, as soon as 
 you are threatened, to send your family off, and bury your 
 negroes in the swamp. Are you doubtful of any of them? 
 Inglehardt is the very man to employ your domestics as spies 
 upon you." 
 
 The other answered gravely 
 
 " I have sometimes thought of that, and feared it ; for it is 
 difficult, otherwise, to account for the information that he some 
 times obtains. I visited your father sometime ago, and took 
 every precaution, and a circuitous route, in seeking the Barony ; 
 yet, though laid up with his wound at the time, Inglehardt 
 knew it all." 
 
MEETING OF TRAVIS AND SINCLAIR. 323 
 
 " Be heedful of this danger. Your domestics must he watched 
 narrowly. It is because I douht them, that I would not wil 
 lingly he seen at Holly-Dale. Besides, I helieve myself to be 
 tracked by an enemy s scout." 
 " Who ?" 
 
 " Hell-fire Dick, and perhaps others of his gang." 
 " Why, Dick is, or was, one of Inglehardt s own troop ; but 
 he deserted and went over to General Marion." 
 
 "From whom he has also deserted by whom he is out 
 lawed." 
 
 " And you think him on your track ?" 
 
 " It is probable ! I have thrown him out, I believe ; but, of 
 these things, one can not be certain. At all events, I change 
 my quarter nightly, and always keep ahead, using the running 
 water, as frequently as I can, for washing my horse s hoofs. I 
 shall cross the river to night." 
 
 " Have you any support at hand ?" 
 " I think so. To-night will determine." 
 Much more was said between the parties, dealing with the 
 details of their respective progresses ; but these need not delay 
 us in ours. The two separated toward dusk, having adjusted 
 their more important objects, but engaged to meet, at about the 
 -same time next day, in the same neighborhood. 
 
 When fairly dark, Sinclair ventured upon a doubtful ford 
 across the river, which, as the water was low, enabled him to 
 pass without difficulty. On the other side, knowing his route 
 thoroughly, he made his way upward, some two miles, and, 
 having reached a certain designated spot, he wound his bugle, 
 and was delighted to hear an answering blast, only a few mo 
 ments after. Is was not long before he was joined by Bram, 
 his faithful negro. 
 
 Bram had a long story to tell of his own progress, and that 
 of Jim Ballou, portions of which we are already in possession 
 of. For the rest, we may briefly state that " Hell-fire Dick" 
 had kept the track of Sinclair unerringly, until Turkey Hill 
 was reached ; when, somehow, the hounds were at fault, thrown 
 out by a nice little bit of practice which the partisan had in 
 dulged in. Whether the scouts had recovered the trail, the 
 negro could not say, nor couJd he report where they were 
 
824 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Jim Ballon bad kept liim at watch upon Holly -Dale, to which 
 lie crossed in the morning, recrossing again at night. Ballon 
 himself was still off scouting somewhere. 
 
 After a long and satisfactory conference with the negro, Sin 
 clair followed him down to the river, where he found a canoe 
 which Bram had appropriated from a neighboring plantation. 
 Leaving the latter to stable his horse in the swamp thickets for 
 the present, onr major of dragoons paddled himself across the 
 liver, to the " Holly-Dale" tract which lay directly opposite. 
 
 He had been expected. Bertha Travis and her brother, 
 Henry, welcomed him at Uie landing. 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. 
 
 Tvvas my desire to prepare you for 
 The entertainment. Be but pleased to obscure 
 Yourself behind these hangings a few minutes." 
 
 CHAPMAN AND SHIRLET. 
 
 OUR little group of three seated themselves on the river bluff, 
 xlenry Travis sitting at the feet of the lovers, and Bertha s 
 hand grasped by that of Sinclair. Very sweet was the situation 
 to all the parties. The night air was soft and pleasantly cool, 
 coming up from the river. The stream swept by, darkly bright, 
 with a gentle murmur as it went, chafing against roots of 
 cypress, and bending branches of oak and willow, that trailed 
 down into the water. There was no moon yet, but the stars 
 were shining gayly and numerously down, their pale gleams 
 dropping about the group through the great roof of trees under 
 which they sat, and which crowned the little promontory, even 
 Avhere it overhung the river. 
 
 That silly sweet prattle of lovers ! How idle to shrewish 
 ears ! That enumeration of little ridiculous dreams and hopes, 
 so childishly little, when heard by third persons, which amply 
 satisfy the minds of the interested parties, no matter how 
 wise. For love is verily a little child so full of faith, so 
 full of wisdom in its simplicity, finding so much of compen 
 sation in its life of trifles; finding life itself so busy and full 
 of work, even when given up to the most unperforming revery. 
 We will not seek to repeat the little nothings of which its 
 speech is so full, assured that the situation is sufficiently satis 
 factory, though the speech be silly. 
 
 Willie Sinclair, strong man as he is; man of thought ana 
 action, purpose a; .d performance ; honest patriot and brave 
 
? THE 
 
 % 
 
 partisan ; he, too, like the lovely creature with whose fingers hi* 
 own paddled, coulc 1 have dreamed away the livelong night in the 
 pleasant commerce, but that there ws- chat stern monitor called 
 duty at his elcow, which kept up a coiitiwial undersong of ex 
 hortation, muttering in his ears at every period 
 
 " This is no time 
 To play tfi th m-iimnets and to tiU with lips." 
 
 He started up, at length, impetuously, and with the air of 
 one desperately shaking himself free from a pleasant thraldom. 
 
 " Bertha, I must away. I have work before me of a pressing 
 sort. I must get writing materials. I have to despatch Bram 
 on a mission within an hour. Can I get to the house unseen, 
 where I may write a letter ?" 
 
 " Why miiflt you hurry, Willie ? I thought you had a little 
 respite now." 
 
 This was said reproachfully. 
 
 "Faith, so I said and truly, a very little respite, but a 
 single hour with you, Bertha, is a very precious blessing in a 
 jewel s compass. I must be content with just so little, now, in 
 order that we may secure a longer time hereafter. But the 
 business now is pressing." 
 
 " You arc always so eager to begone, Willie." 
 
 " Ah ! you are so jealous, Bertha. But it does not vex me 
 that you are so." 
 
 And he laughed and caught her in his arms, and kissed her, 
 and she pouted prettily. 
 
 " Kiss her again, major," said Henry, " I m sure she rather 
 likes it, though she does push you off and grumble." 
 
 And the boy clapped his hands at the result of his suggestion, 
 Sinclair dutifully doing as he was bidden, and getting soundly 
 slapped for his offence. Bertha Travis was, you see, something 
 of a rustic, and knew not exactly how to resist an impertinence, 
 which came in disguise of a tribute. 
 
 " You see what I ve got for listening to you." 
 
 " I reckon, major, you d risk the slap over and over again for 
 the kiss. But I wouldn t." 
 
 "Hush, you!" said the sister; "your impudence grows fast 
 ?r than your shoulders. But, Willie, must you be going ?" 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY DALE. 827 
 
 " I must : but I need first the materials for writing a letter. 
 It is your father s business, Bertha, rather than mine. Now, 
 dearest, if I could make my way to the house, unseen by the 
 servants, slip into your father s office, and write a letter " 
 
 " It can be done. Henry can go before and whistle to you 
 if all s clear. We can steal round the kitchen, under cover of 
 the garden-wall, which is shady with evergreens, and the office 
 i.s in the basement. "And mother wants to see you, Willie. She 
 can come down to you in the office." 
 
 "Yes to be sure: but do not let your father know that I 
 am there. Not that he will not know at least suspect and 
 approve ; but that he must not be burdened with an unneces 
 sary fact, about which he may hereafter be questioned by that 
 arch rascal Inglehardt." 
 
 It was arranged that Henry Travis should go ahead, and see 
 that the land was clear, while the two followed slowly aftei 
 His whistle was the signal to time their paces and regulate 
 their course. The boy was already something of a woodsman 
 and scout, and delighted at every sort of employment which 
 exercised his faculty. He stretched away as soon as apprized 
 of what he was to do. How the lovers loitered on, hand in 
 hand, whispering what grateful nonsense, we may conjecture. 
 Enough to report their arrival beneath the shadow of the dwel 
 ling, in the right basement of which Travis kept his office. A 
 door opened upon the yard in the rear of the office, and here 
 Henry stood and gave them admission, closing the entrance after 
 them. A tallow (dipped) candle burned upon the table, which 
 was covered with books and papers. Travis was a reader of 
 books, of which he had a tolerable English collection of that 
 day, some of them standards even to ours. He was a busy 
 man, too, as a British commissariat, and hence a multitude of 
 papers, calculations, memoranda, reports, &c. He was up stairs, 
 companioning his wife. When Henry came to his father for 
 the key of his office, the latter was about to ask him for what 
 he wished it as the application was somewhat unusual 
 but with the promptness of an older wit, the boy anticipated 
 him : 
 
 " Don t ask me any questions, papa. You know I shall not 
 40 any mischief." 
 
328 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 The father in a moment suspected the nature of his secret 
 The mother asked : 
 
 " Where s your sister, Henry ?" 
 
 He looked at her significantly, and said : 
 
 " She s at the office door outside, waiting for me to open for her." 
 
 The father instantly handed the key to the boy, who, snatch 
 ing- up the only candle burning in the hall, hurried down to let 
 in the two lovers, leaving his excellent parents in the dark. 
 
 " The thoughtless scamp !" said the father. 
 
 The mother said : 
 
 ^ Never mind the light. We can talk as well in the dark as 
 with the candle. Have you any idea what he s after Travis ?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 1S Ah ! are all things going right, my husband ?" 
 
 " I hope so. They promise well ! They are in a fair train 
 for it." 
 
 "Heaven speed it and send us out of this painful bondage. 
 I trust we shall never again be cursed with the sight of Richard 
 Inglehardt." 
 
 "That we can hardly hope for, my dear certainly, we must 
 endure it a little while longer ; but. I hope not too long. We shall 
 probably see him again, and we must keep up appearances, 
 Lucy, until we are able to bid him defiance." 
 
 " You are of course aware that Sinclair is in the neighborhood- 
 has been on the plantation ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but the less I know of this the better. I suspect that 
 he -is below at this very moment, but I would not willingly be as 
 sured of it. You may ascertain if you will, but tell me nothing 
 of it. I suppose that Bertha will let you know anon." 
 
 At that moment the girl s steps were heard coming through 
 the passage-way, a flight of stairs leading up from the basement 
 through the centre of the building. She found her way to her 
 mother in the dark, and whispered in her cars. Then she 
 lighted a candle. 
 
 "Bertha," said the father " have the windows of the office 
 been securely shut in for the night ?" 
 
 The precaution had been taken by Sinclair, to have this done 
 before he entered. Meanwhile, Mrs. Travis rose, and with he? 
 daughter went to the pantry. 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. ,;29 
 
 * I ll venture anything, Bertha, you never thought of giving 
 Mm any supper." 
 
 " Indeed, mother, I did not." 
 
 " As if love was sufficient support for a major of dragoons. 1 
 think it just as likely as not, the poor fellow hasn t had a mouth 
 ful for twenty-four hours." 
 
 Bertha was full of regrets and self-reproaches. 
 
 " Never mind, you shall amend your fault. Get out the ham ; 
 there s some johnny-cake put up ; and the fish Henry caught 
 to-day are fried and in the safe. Step out and bring them in. 
 Your father can go off to bed, and we ll bring the major in here. 
 He can take his supper in the pantry. Have everything ready, 
 while I step down and have a talk with him. You ve had him 
 to yourself long enough." 
 
 Meanwhile, our major of dragoons, had written out his de 
 spatches, whatever they were. He had just finished, and sealed 
 them, when Mrs. Travis joined him in the office. When she 
 appeared, and pronounced his name, he started up, and, with as 
 natural a grace and ease, as if he had done the thing repeatedly 
 before, he threw his arms about the matron s neck, and inflicted 
 a smart kiss upon her lips. 
 
 " Bless me, Major Sinclair," said the lady, recovering from 
 the salute " It is well Bertha does not see you she might 
 take it amiss." 
 
 " But Bertha does see you, you wicked couple," cried the 
 girl, making her appearance at the same moment ; " you erred, 
 mother, in leaving me so little to do up-stairs." 
 
 * Well, major, since we are so closely watched, you will see 
 that you time your kisses more seasonably, and when there 
 shaii be no jealous eyes upon us." 
 
 "Ah! my dear Mrs. Travis mother that is to be we 
 might apprehend from Bertha s jealousy were she to be utterly 
 shared out." 
 
 " What ! you don t mean to say that you are in the habit of 
 kissing my daughter Bertha !" 
 
 " Fie ! Willie ! You know that such a thing happens very 
 rarely." 
 
 " A major of dragoons," snid the mother shrewdly, " is ceV 
 rainly the last persi u in the world to indulge in such a prsc- 
 
330 THE FOB A y EftS. 
 
 tice, except as mere matter of duty. But now that we have all 
 had our kisses, I propose, Major Sinclair, that you step up ie 
 the pantry, and take a little cold supper. I fancy that you get 
 as little good food now-a-days as kisses. Bertha has got to 
 gether everything in the house that is eatable." 
 
 " Ah ! she is thoughtful of me. I confess to an appetite." 
 "Oh!" said the girl with a blush "it is mother who has 
 been considerate. I confess I never once thought of your mere 
 mortal appetites." 
 
 " While feeding on my heart you never felt for my hunger." 
 " What a superb Spanish sort of speech. But come up, and eat." 
 " Where s Mr. Travis ?" 
 " lie will not be in the way." 
 
 " The appeal is irresistible. I confess that I am one of that 
 rluss of lovers, who never lose appetite. A sigh never relieves 
 my hunger. The recollection of my lady s eyes rarely moves 
 me to an indifference for food ; even a kiss, dear Bertha, never 
 lessens my taste for ham and eggs, chickens and salad. I will 
 look into your pantry with a will. But I have little time for 
 pleasures of this sort, and I must swall >w as fiercely as an Edisto 
 raftsman. I must be across the river again in an hour." 
 -So soon, Willie 1" 
 
 "Yes; my business will admit of no delay. I must send 
 Bram on a j.ourney to-night. Where s Henry ?" 
 The boy answered from the outside of the door. 
 "Rundown, Henry, to the landing and wind this bugle, 
 three short mots, and then come back. This will bring Bram 
 down to the river, where he will wait. me. And now for the 
 cold meats." 
 
 The boy sped on his errand, and the rest of the party ad 
 journed up-stairs to the pantry, where Bertha had spread out 
 everything with the natural nicety with which a damsel does 
 everything for her lover. There was the ham, not over-deeply 
 cut into, there the dish of perch, cold but very appetizing, there 
 were some fragments of chicken ; a plate of corn johnny-csike ; 
 a tray of pickles, cucumbers and melons; and a decanter of 
 old Jamaica. 
 
 * T * you would wait a while, major, till we could get you 
 bowl 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. 331 
 
 "Not for the world, my dear Mrs. Travis all this suffices, 
 amply meets all my desires and I frankly confess to you 
 that my hunger was beginning to rage. It is not often that 1 
 see so good a table, and recently, I have eaten little nothing 
 half so good since I have been on the Eclisto. A snack at Kit 
 Rowe s did but whet and stimulate the appetite which has had 
 no supply since." 
 
 Willie Sinclair had no affectations. His was one of those 
 hearty, whole-souled spontaneous natures, which frankly deliver 
 their true characteristics having no strategic tendencies in 
 morals few or no reserves in respect to their own moods 
 simply because there is no secret consciousness perpetually 
 prompting concealment. He slashed away at the ham, tore the 
 chicken asunder, swallowed pickle after pickle, as men of san 
 guine temperament are apt to do, and washed down his edibles 
 with a copious draught of Jamaica, and this without mincing 
 the matter, without any delicate hesitation, and scrupulous 
 nicety because of the presence of his mistress. And, we do not 
 scruple to say further we have no desire for any peevish sup 
 pression of the truth, in deference to canting delicacy and 
 therefore state frankly that Bertha Travis herself was persuaded 
 to take the wing of a chicken between the fingers of one 
 hand and a fragment of johnny-cake in the other, and, for a 
 part of the time at least, to keep her lover company in his 
 pleasant performances. And we give it as our sober opinion, 
 that, love happy love we mean always begets an appetite 
 i. e., among all sensible and Christian people ! 
 
 Suddenly, even while Sinclair ate and prattled with the 
 ladies, the sound of horses feet was heard in the court below ; 
 and Henry Travis dashed into the apartment crying : 
 
 " To cover, Major Willie, there are troopers without, all in 
 armor." 
 
 " I have not finished !" quoth Sinclair, coolly snatching up 
 the ham-bone and the bottle of Jamaica, andr chewing as he 
 went, he followed Bertha down stairs into the office, while Henry 
 Travis proceeded to open for the strangers whose raps were 
 now audible at the entrance. 
 
 And who were these unexpected visiters but Richard Ingle 
 hardt and a portion of his crew ? 
 
332 THE POBAYERS. 
 
 That subtle engineer, who had not for some time seen Mistress 
 Bertha Travis, had suddenly bethought him that he might 
 wisely put himself in the way of Fortune, having put such, a 
 spoke into her wheel during his late negotiations with Captain 
 Travis. At all events, he had resolved to make a sudden visii 
 to see how his schemes had worked to see if he could, by close 
 deciphering of the faces of the damsel and her father, ascertain 
 the effect upon her of the communications of the latter. Had 
 he communicated the arrangement made between themselves? 
 How had she received it ? Was she resigned to her fate, and 
 would these three allowed weeks find him at the close the mas 
 ter of it ? No wonder he was curious. The maiden was a rare 
 prize, and he hungered for its possession. We may add that, 
 never wholly assured of the father s good faith, he was not quite 
 free from a lurking suspicion that nothing had as yet been done. 
 His purpose was threefold to take in a draught of beauty at 
 the eyes, in anticipation of his future hopes to see for himself 
 if there had been any progress in the matter and to goad the 
 reluctant Travis to the performance of his hateful task. Satis 
 fied that the father held it to be a hateful task, he could readily 
 believe that he would work at it very slowly. It was, perhaps, 
 just as well that he should be made to feel the spur in his 
 sides. 
 
 Never for a moment did Richard Inglehardt suppose that, 
 just when he rode up to the dwelling, his lucky rival was at 
 full feast, of eyes and mouth in the pantry, with the lady of his 
 love. 
 
 Captain Travis, though he had left the field to Sinclair, and 
 retired to his chamber, had, fortunately, not retired for the 
 night. He had heard the sounds of the troopers as soon as 
 Henry Travis, and made his way down stairs, not a little 
 anxious, in season to welcome Inglehardt at the entrance. That 
 subtle swordfish came in alone, having left his troopers, who 
 were simply rough-riding rangers, to keep watch in the court 
 below, and cool their restiffness by the contemplation of the 
 quiet stars, always supposing that such people may occasionally 
 incline to look upward. 
 
 Of course. Captain Travis was courtlily gracious, and in civil 
 terms enough welcomed his unwelcome visiter. They entered iho 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. 
 
 4 
 
 pai :r together, where they found good Mrs. Travis, sitting 
 c:jimly in her rustic rocker, made of oak-staves, with a square 
 of undressed oxhide stretched across the seat, the-mottled hair, 
 white and black, outside. And she was civil enough in her 
 \vul come ; and Inglehardthad no reason to complain. He thought 
 the old lady rather stiff and stately in her reception, but this 
 might be due to the uneasy working of the hinges of age the 
 stiffness might be in the joints rather than the soul ; though he 
 confessed to himself, while only forming this supposition, that, at 
 no period, could he have flattered himself with the belief that 
 the good lady had ever shown herself cordial in her deport 
 ment, while in his presence. 
 
 Whatever Inglehardt thought or felt, he never suffered him 
 self to lose the quiet, easy, subdued, deliberate, and very gra 
 cious manner which usually characterized his bearing. His 
 genuflexions were profound and graceful, his smile the most 
 benignant, and when he took the lady s hand, and inquired after 
 her well-being, it was with the air of a dutiful and devoted 
 son, all reverence and solicitude; and taking his seat beside her, 
 he drew his box from one pocket, fed his nostril gingerly 
 followed the feeding by the use of his kerchief a genuine 
 Injy," which he drew from the other, restored both to their 
 places again, and renewed his remark, with singularly sweet 
 empressement,wp<m the admirable keeping in which he found his 
 amiable hostess. 
 
 But Bertha Travis was nowhere to be seen. He sweetly in 
 sinuated his wishes for her health which were construed natu 
 rally into an inquiry for her presence and was told that she 
 had retired for the night the hour was late no guests were 
 expected ; Captain Travis, by the latter remark, meaning to 
 convey the idea that, could it have been foreseen that the house 
 was to be honored with the presence of so distinguished a visitor, 
 the damsel would not have disappeared so early. And with 
 this pleasant insinuation, Master Inglehardt was compelled to 
 be content. And the conversation flagged. 
 
 After a-while, Captain Inglehardt, apologizing sweetly to 
 M":-8. Travis, begged to see her spouse on public business, iD 
 piivate, and in his office. Travis, without knowing how Sin 
 clair had been disposed of, and feeling not a little anxious foi 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 the subject, was yet unable to evade this requisition His wife 
 would have retired, giving up the parlor to her guest and hus 
 band^; but this Inglehardt would by no means permit; and 
 Travis had no ready subterfuge by which to escape the neces 
 sity of taking his visiter, down stairs, " on public business," to 
 that office whither it had been always usual with them to go on 
 such occasions. So, seizing a candle, almost desperately, and 
 making as much bustle as he well could, without exciting sits 
 picion, he led the way for the unwelcome guest. 
 
 The office was wholly in darkness. All was silent there. 
 Where was Sinclair? was the mental query of Travis. Had 
 he got off in the face of the troopers without? If not, where 
 could he be ? There was a rude settee in the apartment upon 
 which Inglehardt subsided with an air of graceful negligence. 
 Could Sinclair have been forced to take shelter, under the form 
 which sustained his enemy ? If so, Travis felt for the mortifi 
 cations of the man whose proud spirit he knew, and whom he 
 desired for his son-in-law ! But, casting an anxious glance 
 about the room, the father of Bertha caught a glimpse of the 
 door, ajar, which opened into a closet occupying that portion of 
 the passage way, which lay beneath the stairflight into the 
 second story. If not gone, he felt it probable that our major of 
 dragoons was sheltered there amidst wines and liquors, and any 
 number of demijohns and bottles. These, he remembered, 
 crowded the shelves to the very edges, and covered the floor, 
 leaving precious little space for the movements of a restless 
 person. Our commissary felt exceedingly uneasy. A single 
 incautious movement, of the occupant, if concealed there, 
 might tumble a dozen bottles from their spheres, and he might 
 be witness to some such scene as that in which Hamlet admin 
 isters to Polonius through the arras. Travis was half disposed 
 to think that Inglehardt s visit, so late, so unexpected, was 
 only made in consequence of his suspicions. Had he been fur 
 nished with any clues ? had the spies upon his steps, of whom 
 Sinclair had spoken, followed the trail to his dwelling? Had 
 the espionage which he had long felt to be maintained u^ -n 
 himself made and reported the discovery of Sinclair s presence 1 
 Well might he be anxious. His secret nay, his fate, hur>g 
 ipon a single hair. 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. 335 
 
 Bu Travis was an old soldier, and a pretty 200! politician. 
 Whatever he felt, he yet contrived to appear perfectly uncon 
 cerned and indifferent. 
 
 "Well, Tnglehardt," he said, with an air of frankness, "you 
 have news, I m sure. You are not the man to ride at night 
 without a burden. What have you heard ?" 
 
 The other answered gently and slowly. 
 
 "Nay," said he, " will you not credit me with the anxious 
 feeling of a lover who would gaze occasionally upon the beauti 
 ful star which is to crown his destiny ? Is it not enough that 
 my star is the jewel of your house?" 
 
 " Pshaw ! You are not the person to fatigue yourself with 
 love-making. I know you too well for that. What are your 
 tidings?" 
 
 " Faith, but you do me wrong, my dear captain. Sentiment 
 is my infirmity. Love is my weakness. The eagerness of my 
 passion al&ne compels me here, and I feefc a signal disappoint 
 ment in not being able to see the creature of my devotions. 
 Verily, you might have expected me. After our conference, in 
 which I showed you fully the intensity of my passion, you 
 
 could scarcely have expected me to keep away. Ah ! do 
 
 tell me what progress you have made ?" 
 
 The other answered bluntly and truly : 
 
 " None as yet ! I have not even broached the subject to wife 
 or daughter. I felt too much like a coward. I had not the 
 courage for it. It is not an agreeable duty, Captain Inglehardt, 
 to repeat to their ears, the terrible language you have thrust into 
 mine." 
 
 " Ah ! but it must be done, Captain Travis !" said the other, 
 with a contemptuous coolness, and he took snuff after the 
 speech. 
 
 "Avj! Of course! It must be done; but though I know 
 this, I do not the less feel how painful is the necessity. And 
 it shall be done, Captain Inglehardt. You have my promise, 
 but you must leave it to me to decide the when and the how. 
 I must seize a favorable moment for it. I have three weeks 
 remember." 
 
 " Less some thirty -six hours ! I will not bate one moment of 
 the limit." 
 
336 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " I know you for a terrible tyrant, as I have told you, and. 
 by Heaven, Inglehardt, if I saw any way to escape you, I should 
 a thousand times prefer to defy you to the teeth, than sacrifice 
 that dear child to your desires." 
 
 " Sacrifice ! Pooh ! pooh ! Travis ; what silly, inappropri 
 ate words you use. How should there be any sacrifice ] Your 
 safety is something, and I flatter myself that I am as proper a 
 person to render your daughter happy as any captain you could 
 find. But you desire, possibly, a higher rank for your son-in- 
 law. Well, our union of forces will secure that also. We shall 
 see. Though I care nothing for the distinction myself, yet, to 
 satisfy you, I shall put myself in the way of a colonelcy." 
 
 " Do that /" said Travis with energy. 
 
 "Well it shall be done." 
 
 "But your news ? You have had some intelligence ?" 
 
 " Y-e-s !" drawlingly, " we are to have three more regiments 
 from Ireland ; Corm\llis is to return from Virginia, bringing 
 Arnold with him, and we shall finish the rebels at a blow in 
 Georgia and the Carolinas. It needs but this to bring about 
 negotiations for peace. Congress is worn out, and prepared to 
 make terms for the Northern Colonies, giving up the Carolinas 
 and Georgia, which, with Florida and the Southwest territory, 
 will leave the Crown in possession of the richest of its provinces 
 worth all the rest to her commerce, There! Isn t that a 
 plentiful budget?" 
 
 " If true ! But how do you get it ?" 
 
 "From Charleston. It comes from a sure hand. It com 
 prises Balfour s latest intelligence." 
 
 " Heaven send it to be true ! Yet, wiH Great Britain be wil 
 ling to yield so much to Congress, with the certainty of con 
 tinual insurrection here, stimulated by a republic alongside." 
 
 " There will be no insurrection here. It is to be a war of 
 extermination waged upon the rebels, till the whole race is ex 
 tinct. The conquerers will be put in possession, and a new 
 plan of colonization will fill up the vacant places with the loyal 
 people. You perceive a sufficient motive in the prospect ibr 
 present and future fidelity." 
 
 " I have never wanted motive for this." 
 
 " To be sure not," said the other with a smile, which was n 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. 337 
 
 sneer. " At all events, this intelligence will furnish sufficient 
 motive for sundry who are shaking in the wind, deceived by the 
 apparent successes of the rebel partisans. 
 
 " Very true," said the other musingly. 
 
 Travis was not deceived by this intelligence. He not only 
 knew it to be an invention a lie throughout but he knew 
 it to be the invention of Inglehardt himself. Travis, who had his 
 own emissaries in the village, knew that, unless within the last 
 eight hours, Inglehardt had received no such intelligence up to 
 their last interview. Carelessly insinuating the question as to 
 the period when he got his despatches, Inglehardt inadvertently 
 answered " This morning." The other said no more. The 
 conversation became desultory, and finally flagged, both parties 
 beginning to show decided symptoms of weariness. 
 
 " I must ride," at length said Inglehardt. "A stoup of your 
 Jamaica, Travis ; this day s work has enfeebled me." 
 
 The requisition filled Travis once more with uneasiness. It 
 was one which Inglehardt rarely made. Could he have any 
 suspicions of that closet beneath the stairs ? He knew that it 
 was there the liquors were kept. But there were no means of 
 evasion. Any hesitation, or delay, would probably confirm the 
 suspicions of the other if any were entertained; and Travis 
 rose promptly and proceeded to the closet, the door of which he 
 opened carefully and no wider than was necessary for the * 
 mission of his person. Judge of his momentary consternation_ 
 when he discovered not only the major of dragoons, but Bertha 
 Travis, within its shelter ; his movement, on opening the door 
 which opened within having the effect of forcing them into 
 the closest relations. As he entered, Bertha thrust the square 
 black-bottle in which the Jamaica of that day was usually 
 found most portable into his grasp. He was saved the 
 trouble of finding it. He withdrew with it promptly, drawing 
 the door closely behind him. But now, another dilemma 
 awaited him. He had the rum, and the tumblers, and these 
 were planted upon the table near the unwelcome guest; but 
 the water was above stairs. To leave Inglehardt alone, even 
 for a moment, was a peril. His papers were strewn about the 
 table. He rapidly asked himself whet IK r there was anything 
 in them to compromise him. A tricky politician never feels 
 
338 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 himself quite safe. He knew that Ingleliardt had as few scrn 
 pies as himself, and, then, he might take it into his head t 
 look into the closet. But he had no escape from this nei 
 necessity, and, groaning in spirit as he went, he hurried u] 
 stairs for the water. 
 
 Sinclair readily conceived all the dangers of his own situa 
 tion as certainly as did Travis ; but he got his couteau dc chass 
 in readiness, and felt that even strife would be a grateful relie- 
 from a position, in which, though with an arm about his beloved 
 he had stiffened from constraint. He had shifted the burden oi 
 his body from one leg to the other, until both were weary. And 
 he weighed little short of two hundred. But Ingleliardt never 
 looked at the closet. He, however, did not hesitate at a rapid 
 glance at the papers on the table, which only ceased as he 
 heard Travis approaching from above. 
 
 " The dirty rascal !" muttered Sinclair to himself, as through 
 the crack of the door he witnessed the transaction. The next 
 moment Travis made his appearance, and the two drank to 
 gether, the potation of Travis rendered necessary from the ex 
 citement he felt, exceeding thrice in quantity that taken by his 
 companion. Then, slowly, to the last, Ingleliardt took his de 
 parture, Travis carefully seeing him beyond the dwelling, and 
 to his horse. 
 
 What a tedious scoundrel!" exclaimed Sinclair, emerging 
 iroi the closet, and leading out Bertha. " Cold and conceited, 
 isn t it wonderful that such a fellow should have any of the 
 qualities of the soldier ? Yet he has : he can plan well ; is 
 cunningly clever, and prompt enough to blows on most occa 
 sions ; but he lacks one warlike essential one of the most 
 essential for a dragoon. He is wanting in impulse; is deficient 
 in celerity. What a lover he must be eh, Bertha ? Did he take 
 snuff between the sentences when he was making love to you ?" 
 
 " Ah ! he never got so far as that." 
 
 " A snake in the grass! Subtle, sly, venomous, and delib 
 erate. I am curious to think how the encounter between iih 
 shall take place. I know that it will come but how 1 Heav 
 en speed it be in the open daylight, in the broad field, with Heav 
 en looking on ; and, if HeaVen pleases, with no other spectators. 
 I should dread that lie should creep near me in the darkness. 
 
SCENES AT HOLLY-DALE. 339 
 
 while I slept, sheltering his sliding, spotty carcass muler inno 
 cent leaves and flowers." 
 
 Travis reappeared. 
 
 " Is the coast clear, sir I" asked Sinclair. 
 
 He Avas answered by Henry Travis, who hastily reappeared 
 
 "All right, Major Willie they re out of the avenue by this 
 time." 
 
 " What ! not a-bed, boy ?" said the father. " And what have 
 you got here ? my pistols, as I live ! Are they loaded, boy ? 
 
 " To the muzzle, sir. I thought they had found out the 
 major, and tha* T might have to take a crack at em." 
 
 " Faith, Captain Travis, I shall Have to ask you for both 
 your children," said Sinclair, lifting the boy up in his muscular 
 arms, and kissing him. 
 
 " Don t be jealous, Bertha," said the saucy urchin "you 
 shall have it as soon as he s gone." 
 
 " 1 shan t wait for that, saucebox," said the girl, slapping him 
 on one cheek, while kissing the other. Sinclair announced the 
 necessity for his immediate departure, and took Bertha by the 
 hand. Her father felt a sudden impulse to examine his papers ; 
 and, during this study, our major atoned, upon her lips, for the 
 outrage committed upon her brother s. Then she slipped out of 
 the room and up-stairs without rousing a single echo ; and, if 
 she slept without dreaming that night, it was not because of the 
 absence of very pleasant fancies. A parting stoup of the Ja 
 maica was hastily swallowed by our dragoon, and he disap 
 peared a few words as he left being sufficient to establish an 
 understanding between himself and Travis, for future m eting. 
 Henry would go with him down to the river and see him across 
 in the boat. The boy would have given his favorite pony to 
 have been permitted to cross also. In another hour, Sinclair 
 had despatched, by Abram, the missive which he had encoun 
 tered so much risk to prepare. Of course, the black was prop 
 erly schooled in his duties, and perfectly understood what was 
 to be done. His task implied a canter of ten or twelve mileF 
 that night. 
 
 " But where is Ballon ?" was Sinclair s query to himself, as 
 he prepared to occupy the forest-camp of the negro, his good 
 steed being his only companion. " The fellow must be verv 
 
340 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 busy on a warm trail or which is most likely must be 
 drunk again !" 
 
 But our major was quite too tired for much reflection, and 
 soon delivered himself up to sleep. We must not omit to state 
 that he had not sent Bram off without his supper, having 
 brought with him the ham-bone and bread which he had so 
 hastily appropriated, from the pantry of Mrs. Travis, when the 
 alarm was given by the steeds of Inglehardt and his party. 
 
THE RIVAL SPIDERS 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE RIVAL SPIDERS. 
 
 "Things well begun 
 
 Are half performed : the managing an act 
 With close and hidden practice, mongst the wise 
 And politic people, brings assured success : 
 Broad open way the heavy snail doth take, 
 While untrod paths best please the subtle snake." 
 
 GLASSTHORNE S Wallenstein. 
 
 IT was long after midnight when Bram returned to his ma- 
 ter in the camp. But he had performed his mission successfully, 
 and brought back a written answer, partly in cipher, which 
 Sinclair read by firelight, and which proved satisfactory. 
 
 " But what of Ballou, Bram V 1 
 
 The negro could give no account of the scout. 
 
 " Speck he tretch out somewhay in de bush, drunk like a 
 gem pieman." 
 
 Our major painfully admitted to himself this probability ; he 
 well knew the scout s weakness, and feared that he had fallen 
 into a temptation which had proved too great for his resolves. 
 
 " And lawd, maussa, ef you bin yerry how he sway to God 
 nebber for touch whiskey an rum any more gen. But he lub 
 em so." 
 
 " Well, since he fails us, Bram, we shall only have to do 
 double duty ourselves. Don t let me sleep a moment after 
 daylight. I must ride down to Kit Rowe s by peep of day 
 To sleep now, old fellow." 
 
 With dawn he was up and mounted. 
 
 " Keep your eyes about you, Bram, while I am absent. You 
 can push the boat across the river and scout about Holly-Dale. 
 Henry Travis will n eet you by the swamp cedars, and bring 
 
342 THE FORAYERS 
 
 you something to eat. I shall probably be with you after dark 
 in the camp, mind you. We can cross in the canoe." 
 
 And shaking the negro s hand, as if he had been a boson- 
 friend, our major of dragoons took his way down along the edge 
 of the river swamp, until he reached the ford where he had 
 previously crossed the stream, when he boldly pressed through 
 it as before. On the opposite side he sped along with a free 
 rein, meeting nobody, and possibly escaping all eyes, at that 
 early hour of the morning. But he kept under cover as much 
 as possible, passing below the bridge until he found himself 
 nearly opposite to Howe s plantation. Here, after a little 
 search, he found, closely hidden away in the thickly-massed 
 forest which crowded down to the edge of the stream, a little 
 dug-out, with a negro boy in it asleep. He routed up the 
 urchin, who was evidently set to wait for him not watch 
 and stripping his horse of his saddle, and loosing his neck- 
 cliain, he led the steed by the bridle to the water, and entering 
 the boat, bade the boy push across; the horse, never fearing, 
 taking the water like a dog of Newfoundland, and swimming 
 beside the dug-out. The steed concealed in the swamp thickets, 
 and the boy left in charge of the boat, Sinclair, after sundry 
 precautions, made his way up toward the settlement, giving his 
 bugle a slight blast which brought Howe out to him in the thicket. 
 
 " Have you heard of Dick Coulter and his troop ?" was the 
 first question of Sinclair. 
 
 " He was at Chevillette s last night, and is no doubt plying 
 about in the swamp between his place and Barton s." 
 
 " Good ! I must have him up to-morrow by three o clock in 
 the afternoon. Can you give him a whistle ?" 
 
 " It shall be done. Where must he find cover ?" 
 
 " At Holly-Dale, west of the road, out of sight, but ready 
 bitted, for a charge at the first blast of the bugle. Has any 
 thing more been gathered touching the recruits of Travis?" 
 
 " I counted twenty-six at drill, yesterday." 
 
 " How many has Coulter ?" 
 
 "Not more than nineteen last night, but some were out 
 scouting." 
 
 " Has Ballon been here 1" 
 
 " No | I thought I heard his horn blow down by the negro 
 
THE RIVAL SPIDEES. 343 
 
 quarter last evening, as I rode up from Chevillette s, but I have 
 seen nothing of him." 
 
 " He is either drunk in a hollow, or on a hot trail. I need 
 him now, and we shall be pushed for time. Greene s advance 
 will probably pass Rawdon to-morrow night." 
 
 " Ah ! and his lordship ?" 
 
 " Is making for Orangeburg as a fox makes for his hole with 
 thirty dogs at his heels. The heat is playing old Harry with 
 his men, and his Irish are ready to break out in mutiny." 
 
 " Good ! What of Stewart and Crnger ?" 
 
 " Nothing positive : but they are on the road also, pushing 
 downward with the whole tory settlement of Ninety-Six, bag 
 and baggage along with him, and Pickens at his heels with his 
 mounted rangers too few to cut him up, yet too hungry not to 
 follow. But you must get me some breakfast out here. I have 
 a famous dragoon appetite this morning." 
 
 " There s no stranger on the place or about. Can t you ven 
 ture up to the house." 
 
 "No ! I can risk nothing unnecessarily now I have a life 
 depending on my vigilance and safety, which is worth an army 
 to us." 
 
 We will not pursue our major of dragoons for the present, 
 satisfied that he wishes concealment, and that he will be active. 
 Let us look in, for a moment, upon Richard Inglehardt. 
 
 He was taking his breakfast, a somewhat late one, at the 
 table of the widow Bruce. All the other lodgers they were 
 few had breakfasted and gone. The widow presided at the 
 table and watched her guest, as, somewhat more abstractedly 
 than usual, he broke his bread and sipped his coffee. Ingle 
 hardt seldom showed himself in a contemplative mood ; bmt he 
 was evidently somewhat heedless of the lady s presence at this 
 moment. Mrs. Bruce was a lady of dignity, stately and re 
 served, herself, but with that sort of pride which demands that 
 others shall pay tribute of confidence and solicitude. She did 
 not much admire Inglehardt. She knew him as obscure of 
 family, the son of an overseer, and he a man of little force of 
 character. But Inglehardt had made hi?nself, and this proved 
 hhr in possession of native endowments which, properly exer 
 cised, \vould give him means of power, and moral power is per 
 
344 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 sc a virtue. Richard Inglehardt was not a person to be de 
 spised not a person, however, to be loved by the Widow 
 Bruce he was not even admired. Did she fear him ? not ex-^ 
 actly. It would be difficult to say through what agency he 
 coerced her respect. It was not a respect accorded to him 
 through any social consideration. His social position was 
 doubtful and his manners were bad. But even his manners 
 were significant of latent powers. He was so cool so assuror! 
 so seemingly indifferent as to the results of the game so 
 equal to it, as it was ordinarily played that those who could 
 not analyze the source of the possession were yet able to recog 
 nise it. It was something, therefore, to inspire curiosity, to 
 perceive this man apparently forgetful, absorbed, heedless of 
 the things around him, and for once, natural, and so far human, 
 therefore, as to betray a consciousness of such relations with 
 the world about him, as to take him completely out of his indif 
 ference. He whose thoughts make him forgetful of the absolute 
 presence in which he stands, shows himself in some degree the 
 subject of fortune. He is not superior to fate. It is working 
 in his brain, or in his heart, so as to inspire a care an anxiety. 
 
 Why should Richard Ingleliardt be so anxious at the present 
 moment, as to forget his affectations forget his usual inaiii.er, 
 and show himself heedless of the very person in whose presence 
 he sits? Such a man rarely betrays any heedlessness of those 
 about him. He is always watchful of the world as if lie knoAvs 
 that it is full of enemies or victims. It is only those AV!IO 
 sympathize with humanity who ever forget their vigilance. 
 
 " I should say, Captain Inglehardt," quoth the Avidow, " that 
 you were meditating some enterprise of more than usual diffi 
 culty." 
 
 There was something of pique in the tone of the lady, ll.i 
 fruit, perhaps, of his failure to note her presence. 
 
 " Did you speak, Mrs. Bruce ?" he answered, somewhat quick; 
 but looking up still absently. 
 
 " Is it love or war, Captain Inglehardt ?" 
 
 " Love, madam !" 
 
 " Ay, sir; I ask if it be IOA T C or war that now exercises A our 
 strategic faculties? You are evidently busy in some scheme o,f 
 more than common embarrassment." 
 
THE RIVAL SPIDERS. 345 
 
 He shook his head as if to shake it free of thought, and an 
 swered slowly, resuming his deliberateness of speech and manner. 
 
 " Yes, madam, I am to sup shortly witli the devil, and my 
 spoon is not quite long enough for my purposes." 
 
 And with these words he coolly rose and left the loom, a 
 little vexed with himself that he should forget himself, in his 
 anxieties, in the presence of another. 
 
 "Ay," said the widow, "be it war or love, the devil will be 
 sure to have his hand in your mess, no matter whom you have 
 at supper." 
 
 The widow did not admire her lodger certainly; and had 
 but little faith in his virtues, though she might respect his 
 powers. Meanwhile, Inglehardt retired to his room, and lighting 
 his pipe, sought, through this medium, to blow the clouds from 
 off his brain. He is not one who suffers himself often to solilo 
 quise ; but he needs a safety-valve at this moment which the 
 pipe itself will not supply, and he broods aloud, without heeding 
 that we listen. 
 
 " I feel dubious about this whole affair. I feel that Travis is 
 playing the rogue with me. I do not know it, I only feel it ; it 
 is an instinct; and I hate to rely upon instinct merely. I can 
 not fathom the secret. I have those who watch him yet they 
 report nothing unfavorable all seems flowing smoothly, like a 
 river going down to the sea, singing as it goes. Still, tho.ro is 
 a something treacherous in the current, and I can not sound its 
 depths. 
 
 " Yet what can be his game ] He knows, as Avell as I do, 
 that this rebellion is nearly burnt out. In the northern states, 
 it scarcely shows a flame. Virginia and North Carolina have 
 been swept by Arnold and Cornwallis. Georgia is crushed and 
 helpless at the foot of Britain. Here, only, in our own province 
 is the struggle maintained and how I Greene is too cold and 
 cautious to achieve any brilliant results. He only keeps alive 
 oy economizing his forces. The troops of Marion and Sumter; 
 Pickens and the rest of the partisans they come and go, and 
 are equal only to small predatory performances. Half of the 
 natives are in our ranks, and here are three new regiments from 
 Ireland, and others coining. One disaster to Greene s army 
 and the war is ended. 
 
 15* 
 
346 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "Well, I am in position, and Travis is in position. Hii 
 policy is to be faithful to the crown and to me. He knows that 
 I can tear him down at a moment nay, give him to the halter. 
 He has every motive of interest and safety to be faithful, and 
 with such a man such notions are everything. We are both 
 in a position to achieve fortune by the event, and that is as 
 nearly reduced to certainty now, as anything can be in the 
 world. 
 
 " And yet ^frel that he is treacherous ! He does not press 
 this matter with his daughter. He hopes yet to escape this ne 
 cessity. But how ? There is no doubt of my proofs, and he 
 knows me too well to doubt that I will crush him, ay, hang him, 
 without remorse, if he is unfaithful though Bertha Travis lay 
 at my feet pleading to me for mercy. He knows that, yet he 
 trifles with me ! 
 
 " Shall I submit to this trifling ? Why has he not broached 
 the matter to her in the last thirty-six hours, when I laid bare 
 to him the absolute necessity of his case, and deliberately showed 
 him ray own stern resolve ? He knows what I require, knows 
 me firm, and knows his danger. Wherefore should he trifle, 
 then, and procrastinate, -unless in the hope of some method 
 of evasion ? Does he calculate on the chapter of accidents, in 
 this three weeks which I have allowed him calculate on chance 
 shot or sabre stroke cutting me off and assuring his safety by 
 silencing my testimony ? Ha ! I must let him understand that 
 my very death is his ruin. I must give him to know that I 
 shall so arrange the evidence against him, and place it in such 
 keeping, that the very hour in which I perish gives up the 
 secret to Balfour. 
 
 " And what are his sources of hope for these casualties 1 
 This Sinclair where is he? His battalion is not with Greene. 
 That is certain. Where is it? He, himself, has been heard of 
 below, as far as Monck s Corner, and Biggins . A troop of cav- 
 alry supposed to be St. Julien s, has been down upon the Pon 
 1 on with Harden. This Edisto boy, Richard Coulter my old 
 school-mate too is somewhere below, skirting and recruiting 
 along the river. Can he be in any strength 1 I must prepare 
 for some of these parties. My own recruits are strong enough 
 now for a dash, and I m st have them out scouting. Had I inv 
 
THE RIVAL SPIDERS. o47 
 
 vw. -rans here, something handsome might be done. I shall havi 
 the*a in another week and then ! 
 
 " ifat am I safe here another week ? Hardly if it be tru 
 that riarden, Maham, St. Julien, Sinclair, and Coulter, are be 
 low, ft will need that I take to the swamp. Oh ! for half-a- 
 dozen scouts who know their business ! 
 
 " Tl iG wooing is not my forte. It fatigues me. I require 
 easy covi^uests with the sex. They do not compensate toil and 
 stratagem. The father must do my wooing. I shall make it a 
 short procxss with him, and he will find it needful to be quite as 
 summary ^fih her. He shall have his three weeks, but not a 
 moment mcie. In that space of time, he can not escape me. 
 Yet I must tvatch him. My instincts are ever sure, and, I feel, 
 though I ca.,1 not see, that he is treacherous. He has his game 
 no doubt, bi*t I will block it on him when he least expects it." 
 
 We are not to suppose that all this soliloquy was delivered as 
 we have written it, without pause, break, or interruption. The 
 mood was alrucst dreamy in which the captain of loyalists uttered 
 himself, with aoquent intervals in which the pipe sent up its 
 curling wavelet?, of smoke about his head, with his body thrown 
 back, face lifted, and heels upon a chair opposite. And thrice, 
 during his rever} . did he fill the bowl of the pipe with fresh 
 tobacco Meamv.iile, his snuff-box lay untouched upon the 
 table. He never <ook snuff except in the presence of others. 
 Snuff-taking was o,.e of his processes for pause for gaining time 
 for masking a w^od or purpose. 
 
 In this soliloqu^ you have the secret of hit moral make. 
 Cold, calculating, selfish, remorseless, subtle as a serpent, and 
 capable of using his fangs even where his passions are unex- 
 cited. He was too phlegmatic to woo. He thought too little 
 of the sex, for such aa effort. He could toil and weave labori 
 ously in the effort to secure his enemies in his meshes, but he 
 could not toil in beuaU of his own heart. Power was his pas 
 sion. He knew nothLig of the fine, inspiring frenzies of love. 
 Love he knew only in tts coarser forms, as the creature of will 
 and passion ; and the coldness of his heart rendered him sus 
 ceptible, even in this degree, only at periods, and when his 
 brain craved a respite from political intrigues. We see what 
 are his calculations tot .ihing the condition of the country, and 
 
348 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 the prospects of the war. His politics were wanting as they 
 chiefly contemplated the surface. Of men, in general, he knew 
 much could probe the ordinary character with skill and 
 adroitness but of superior men, having great impulse, with 
 out which there is no great virtue, he knew nothing. Enthu 
 siasm was a thing of depth, beyond his plummet. Thus, it was 
 that the very pressure which was calculated to bring out the 
 real heroism in the country, was beheld by him only as a crush 
 ing and irresistible one one to crush and be irresistible only 
 among the class which he could comprehend those who cal 
 culated the chances of the struggle, rather than the merits of 
 it, and who gauged their patriotism by hopes and fears, rather 
 than love, principle, and duty. In brief, this man, wonderfully 
 shrewd and cunning, was master only of the avenues of the 
 brain ; of the deep, full heart, whether in man or woman the 
 absorbing generous affections, the glorious impulses, the honest 
 gushings, and noble frenzies- he had no knowledge. For these 
 he made no allowance. 
 
 But we need not linger in his analysis. He will develop 
 himself as we proceed. Enough that, having finished his rev- 
 ery and soliloquy, his pipe and plans, he prepared to join, and 
 exercise his raw recruits. We need scarcely say that he gave 
 them sufficient employment. He despatched sundry of his best 
 men in different directions. He had silently matured the details 
 of a progress, in which he was to act more decisively than ever 
 upon Travis. But his necessities required that he should also 
 send out his spies, to ascertain, if possible, what degree of risk 
 he incurred in lingering about the village. The reports of 
 scattered bands of the partisans below him, were calculated to 
 render him uneasy. In fact, he felt that an enterprise against 
 him, by a spirited and able captain, might have put him and 
 his little troop entirely hors -de -combat. He had felt himself 
 safe only in the supposed absence of the Americans with 
 Greene and Marion, across the Santee. He had been so far 
 safe, in fact, only as it was generally known by the partisans 
 that he was temporarily invalided and in concealment, without 
 any troops with him, and that they had their hands full else 
 where, of much better employment than looking after a game 
 vyhich promised so little of reward for the tvouble of the search 
 
THE RIVAL SPIDERS. 349 
 
 It was, indeed, only within the last ten days, and when he had 
 succeeded in picking up some recruits, that he had ventured 
 openly to show himself in Orangeburg. It was the report of 
 Richard Coulter s troop in the neighborhood, that now, most of 
 all, made him feel the necessity of a proper vigilance. Accord- 
 ngly, his spies and scouts, such as they were, were all set in 
 motion. 
 
 Leaving him to his plans and practices, let us see after Sin 
 clair. We join him late in the day, when, having recrossed 
 the river in Howe s canoe, paddled over by the negro-boy, his 
 horse swimming beside the boat as before, he sped up on the 
 route toward Holly-Dale. He drew rein in the same neighbor 
 hood where he had held a previous interview with Travis. 
 Here he stabled his horse in covert, and prepared to wait the 
 reappearance of that person who, as he had learned, had gone 
 down that morning to the village. We may state that Travis 
 and Inglehardt again had a long private interview together, the 
 result of which both parties playing fox in the game was 
 to leave the latter in as great a degree of incertitude as ever 
 his instincts making him suspicious, his thought denying all 
 reason for doubt or apprehension. Travis repeated his assu 
 ranees of good faith swearing at his leek, like Pistol, even 
 while he swallowed it and Inglehardt insinuating his warn 
 ing of the penalties that would follow from his treachery. 
 
 " And while you are persuading your daughter, Travis, I 
 must have the privilege of seeing her. My last three visits to 
 your house, have been profitless in this respect. She keeps out 
 of sight. Now she is indisposed, now she has retired for the 
 night, and there is always some excuse. You must enlighten 
 her upon the necessity of having no headache when I come, 
 and particularly against going to bed so early." 
 
 Travis gave him a look full of hate and venom, but Ingle 
 hardt only laughed. 
 
 " By Heaven ! Richard Inglehardt, I should sooner brain you 
 than serve you." 
 
 " Ah ! but that wouldn t serve you. Remember, as I have 
 been at the pains to show you, the hour of my death is that of 
 your arrest for treason, to say nothing of certain minor offen 
 ces. The papers proofs I can reach at any moment, so long 
 
350 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 as I live dead, spe jchless, they are at once transferred to the 
 keeping of Commandant Balfour. But, enough !" 
 
 And he handed his mnll with nicely-extended finger to hie 
 auditor, throwing up the silver lid as he spoke. 
 
 " No, sir!" answered Travis, with stern look and emphasis 
 
 no, sir ! none of your snuff!" 
 
 The other only smiled as he helped himself His thought 
 was : 
 
 " Yes, I have him in the toils, and he feels it. He has no 
 means of evasion." 
 
 In fact, Travis had played his cards so well, that Inglehardt s 
 instincts were shamed almost into silence by his mental convic 
 tions. They still lived, and were still so*mewhat watchful, hut 
 they were no longer urgent. 
 
 "Have yon heard, Captain Inglehardt," said Travis some 
 what abruptly, " that Dick Coulter, with some ten or a dozen 
 troopers, has been seen in the neighborhood of Cooper s 
 swamp ?" thus giving very gratuitous information, and mu 
 tilating it besides cutting down the twenty or thirty of Coul 
 ter to ten or a dozen. Inglehardt noticed this discrepancy be 
 tween this account and his own, but the fact of Travis giving 
 the information at all, was in proof of his playing fairly with 
 him, and he could readily conceive that a discrepancy, in the 
 report of numbers, might easily occur without being a fraudu 
 lent one. He did not know that Travis was already apprized 
 of his own perfect knowledge of the whereabouts of Coulter ; 
 and lie still pretended ignorance of the fact till the present 
 moment. 
 
 " Ha ! Coulter !" he exclaimed " He about ! At Cooper s 
 swamp, eh 1 But with a dozen men only ! He must be seen 
 to. We must take a drive in that quarter shortly, as soon as I 
 get my ragamuffins in good order for a charge." 
 
 What more was spoken between them, we need not here re 
 port. It was of business matters, affecting their own relations, 
 and those of the army ; but as Travis was about to leave the 
 loyalist captain, *he other touched him gently on the arm, and 
 looking with his deep, keen eyes, a stare of sharp and unyield 
 ing firmness, he said : 
 
 " Remember, Captain Travis, I am serious in the demand to 
 
THE RIVAL SPIDERS. 861 
 
 see your daughter when T happen to visit Holly-Dale. Shf 
 must not keep out of my sight. She must not show aversion 
 There must be no petty excuses of headache and early couch 
 ing. I must not only have your assurance that you will fulfil 
 your engagement, but I must exercise tny own eyes, in seeing 
 what sort of progress you make. It must not be a thing of 
 mere coercion; she must be won her affections " 
 
 " And how the d 1 am I to reach them in your behalf, when, 
 perhaps, she has no affection for you ?" 
 
 "Ask the devil, and he may instruct you in the process. 
 At all events, I require to watch the progress. To-morrow, if 
 you say so to-morrow, I will visit Holly-Dale." 
 
 It was with indiscreet quickness that Travis answered : 
 
 " Not to-morrow ! not so soon ! It will take me some days 
 to prepare her mind." 
 
 " Ah ! her antipathies are very strong, I see ! But you will 
 advise me when she relents, when she relaxes, when she begins 
 to love will you?" 
 
 " You are a sneering devil, Inglehardt." 
 
 "And you anything but a smiling one, Travis," was the 
 quiet reply, "though devil you are, by all that s satanical 
 The only wonder is how you should ever have been blessed- 
 with so saintly a daughter." 
 
 Travis felt it in his heart to knock him down, and looked it ; 
 but the other, his eyes still on him, fed his nose from the snuff 
 box, with his complacency totally unmoved. That prudence 
 which taught Travis to seem very angry with his subtle asso 
 ciate, taught him to subdue within proper limits his genuine 
 anger. They separated, with a burst of bad temper from 
 Travis and a cool, contemptuous grin and bow from Inglehardt 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 HOW LOVERS MAY FORGET THEMSELVES. 
 
 " Oh I verily, a pleasant confidence ! 
 So sure in love that nothing can be lost, 
 Though very much at stake. If their souls keep 
 This music to the last, twill end in heaven: 
 Tis Truth here, happy in its innocence." Old Play. 
 
 THE cool, sarcastic, contemptuous tyranny of Inglehardt, 
 was momently strengthening the resolution of resistance and 
 rebellion in the heart of Travis ; and preparing him to second 
 the desires whatever they might be of Willie Sinclair and 
 his associates. 
 
 " Curse him to his marrow !" he muttered as he left the vil 
 lage. " He shall pay for all this insolence before I m done 
 with him. Let this arrangement but ripen let me but blind 
 him for the present, and I shall have my revenge out of him." 
 
 He rode briskly until he had nearly reached the spot where 
 he expected to meet Willie Sinclair, when he subdued his paces, 
 and was, after a little while, joined by the person he expected. 
 Then he dismounted and led his horse into the woods. 
 
 "Well, major," said he impatiently "have you heard? Is 
 all right ? Shall I have the meeting." 
 
 "Yes: to-morrow, at three in the afternoon, at Holly-Dale. 
 Abram will bring him across in the dug-out." 
 
 " You will be present." 
 
 "Not at your conference, of course, which I suppose you 
 desire should be private ; but I will be in the neighborhood 
 I must keep good watch to see that he suffers no harm." 
 
 "You do not doubt my good faith, major. By Heaven, sir, 
 you will find me true. My feelings and policy go togethei 
 here." 
 
HOW LOVERS MAY FORGET THEMSELVES. 353 
 
 (< I trust so ; I believe you : but you can only assure me of 
 yourself. I must make sure against all others. This man 
 Inglehardt has increased his troop. He may be suspicious. 
 He coi Id be troublesome." 
 
 " He has no suspicion of you none of our project he may 
 have of me. But I flatter myself I have shut up his eyes, or 
 diverted them to another quarter. I have told him that Coulter 
 is in the river swamp below, and this offers him a new subject 
 for anxiety." 
 
 " But why tell him that ?" 
 
 " It can do no harm to Coulter, and I told Inglehardt just 
 enough of the truth to lead him into a snare. Instead of 
 twenty -five troopers which is the least force of Coulter, I said he 
 had only ten or a dozen; and instead of Chevillette s and 
 Barton s, I represented him as harboring considerably beyond." 
 
 " I suspect he knows bettei He has his own scouts below. 
 There were two of them scouting down the Charleston road 
 to-day." 
 
 " He has no scouts worth a copper." 
 
 " Still, it is something of an error with politicians to refine 
 too much. I hope you did not intrude your intelligence ur 
 gently. He had probably heard of Coulter from other quar 
 ters." 
 
 " So I thought ; and hence my information. That it was 
 already know/i to him, was not a fact to be known to me. That 
 I told him what I did know, and what he would be likely to 
 suppose that I knew, was calculated to do away with all doubt 
 that I was dealing honestly with him. No harm can come of 
 it, I think." 
 
 "Perhaps not I hope not! Still, I would stake nothing 
 unnecessarily, nothing for which the game does not absolutely 
 call. But I must leave you. All is sufficiently understood be 
 tween us. You will look for us at three to-morrow." 
 
 We need not report more of their dialogue. The parties 
 separated; Sinclair riding below, in the direction of Orange- 
 burg ; Travis speeding homeward at & smart canter. 
 
 The conference had taken place in the thicket just below 
 th-* " Four-mile Branch," a place that seemed to promise perfect 
 secrecy. Everything was quiet when they reached the. spot, 
 
o54 THE POBAYERS. 
 
 \\hicl) might have been a hundred yards distant from the 
 road. On one side of them ran the branch. Between them 
 aiul the road spread a thick bay, on the edge of which, seated 
 on a log, and holding th^ bridle of their horses, they communed 
 together. Here not a murmur was to be heard saving 
 their own voices. The air was hushed. The bay was the 
 abiding place only of the reptile and the wild cat. We have 
 heard what was said between them, of interest to this progress. 
 Unfortunately, amid all this silence and seeming security, it 
 was heard by other ears. Scarcely had they ridden out of 
 sight when a wild and savage-looking being, huge of limb, 
 brutal of aspect, in ragged garments, but armed with pistols 
 and knife, started out of the bushes, not ten steps from the spot 
 where they had been seated. He had heard every syllable. 
 It had been easy for him to have shot them both down with a 
 single bullet ; but this was by no means his policy. Their secret 
 was of much more importance to his interests than their lives. 
 Then, too, there was some peril in any more demonstrative 
 course. Had his pistol missed fire, his own fate was certain. 
 
 The savage being thus emerging from the thicket, was no 
 less a personage than "Hell-fire Dick" a cognomen which he 
 had learned to prize as of more value, and more distinction 
 than the innocent name of Joel Andrews received from his 
 parents. 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho! hain t I got you now, Cappin Travis. Won t 
 it be nuts for Dick Tnglehardt, what I has to tell him. And 
 you, too, Willie Sinclair! I reckon I has you, too, under the 
 saddle ! I reckon I ll hev a ride on both o your necks by 
 three o clock to-morrow. Well ! if this news don t set me all 
 right with Cappin Inglehardt, for the matter of that desartion, 
 <ind git me some good gould guineas besides, I m never no 
 more to be in the way of good luck, and I may as well give up 
 trying. 
 
 " Now, who d a thought I d ha cotched Willie Sinclair hyar, 
 when he s throw d me off his trail everywhar else ? Jest when 
 I was a sleeping too. Well, it s a sign that I m to hev a 
 chaince of good fortin again ; and I ll be at her like a man 
 that knows she s worth a tussle. 
 
 "And how shill i be?" 
 
HOW LOVERS MAY FORGET THEMSELVES. 355 
 
 And he mused awhile, sitting upon the same tree which Sin 
 clair and Travis had so lately occupied. 
 
 " It s no use to let Rafe Brunson know about this diskivery. 
 Dick Inglehardt never pays too freely, and the diskivery is all 
 my own. Why should I give the Trailer any of my own 
 hard airnings? And whar s he jist now, evenef I was .to look 
 a ter him. May be some five miles off, and whar ? Ef I goes 
 about making signals in these woods, who knows but I may start 
 up a dozen of Sinclair s scouts. Tain t reasonable for me to do 
 that. I could have shot him and Travis both always sup 
 posing that the we pon didn t miss fire, but there mought be a 
 dozen troopers closing in upon me from the road. Oh ! ef I 
 could find out where Sinclair has hid away that hundred guineas 
 that he tuk from Pete Blodgit. In course, he aint a-riding 
 about with it now. That chaince is done and gone, clear. 
 And what s the chaince now ] Why to catch them two con- 
 spirating rebels in the same net. That s the how; and the 
 way to do it is to see Cappin Inglehardt. 
 
 " But what if he axes me about that desartion, and is wanting 
 to be hard upon me. I must make tarms with him first. Yes, 
 that s the way with him. He d be mighty smooth with me till 
 he d sucked out my secrets, and then he d put on a grand look, 
 and talk of example, and how decent and proper twas to hang 
 a man for desarting, jist to encourage other desarters. I must 
 hev tarms with our ily tongue cappin. 
 
 " Ha ! and thar s that matter about Coulter. So he s about 
 agin and I suppose harboring in Bear Castle. He ought 
 to build and settle thar, now that they call him the hero of 
 Bear Castle. He kin fight and he will, and ef he s got 
 thirty men with him, I reckon he s a-preparing now to make 
 a dash at Inglehardt. And our cappin wants all the men he 
 kin git. He ll be glad enough to hev me and the Trailer back 
 agin in his ranks. He knows what I am for an orderly, and he 
 knows what the Trailer is for a scout. We air as good as any 
 other six fellows he could pick up, and stout fellows air a git- 
 ting scarce in these parts. I see my way pretty cl ar now % " 
 
 Suffice it that our Dick of Tophet deliberately arranged all 
 the argument, with which to win his way back to the favor of 
 Captain Inglehardt, before rising from his sent. When he had 
 
356 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 fully conned his part lie got up, moved to the opposite side of 
 the bay and brought out the little hackney of a horse, of which 
 he had dispossessed Blodgit so unscrupulously. He mounted, 
 and took his Avay down for Orangeburg, avoiding the public 
 road as much as possible, and proceeding so slowly as to have 
 the cloak of night about him before penetrating the village. 
 
 Sinclair, meanwhile, never once apprehending this new dan 
 ger, sped downward, also, until he reached the forks of the 
 road near Pen Branch, when he turned to the right, and sped 
 in a northwest direction for a mile. Here he turned into the 
 woods, found a hollow tree, which delivered him a letter, pos 
 sessed himself of its contents, and having destroyed it, wheeled 
 about, and returned upon his own steps till he gained the point 
 where he had been accustomed to ford the river. By this time 
 it was dark, and objects were discerned indistinctly. He, how 
 ever, rode on through the woods, which he thoroughly knew, 
 at a trot, and was just descending the hill-slope to the swamp, 
 when a pistol bullet whistled by his ears, the dull report, with 
 out echoes, following a moment after. 
 
 His blood was roused. To dash into the thicket, on his right, 
 whence the shot issued, was his first instinct, but he felt, the 
 next moment, how absurd would be any attempt to discover 
 the assassin in such a thicket, and amidst the increasing dark 
 ness. He gave but a single frowning glance at the dense har 
 borage, and congratulating himself upon his escape, he sped 
 forward with as much haste as the forest would permit, and was 
 soon beyond the reach of any similar salutation from the same, 
 hands. 
 
 " Missed him, by jingo !" quoth the Trailer, rising from his 
 perch some twenty steps from the spot where Sinclair had passed. 
 
 " Dern the puppies ! I don t believe in pistols no how. But 
 I thought I had him dead. I never was good at no kind of 
 shooting we pon, and I don t think it s the business of a trailer 
 to fight. He s only got to trail, and scent, and scout. Now if 
 Hell-fire Dick had been hyar, we d ha fixed him. But we ve 
 got his track agin, and that s something. I wander ef he s got 
 them guineas in his pouch yit ?" 
 
 Our major bore a charmed life. He crossed the river in 
 safety, and was soon in the camp with Abram. 
 
HOW LOVERS MAY FC RGET THEMSELVES. 357 
 
 " No tidings yet of Ballon, Bram ?" 
 
 " Nebber yar not ing bout em, maussa. I feard, ef be ain t 
 drunk someway in de woods, dem tory ob Ingl art got em. 
 
 Sinclair mused. 
 
 " Bram !" said be, " tbere are enemies on our track. I have 
 just escaped a pistol-sbot." 
 
 " De Lawd be praise! Wbay, maussa?" 
 
 Sinclair described tbe spot. Bram knew instantly wbat was 
 to be done, and girded bimself up accordingly for tbe trail. 
 " Figbt fire with fire," is tbe forest maxim. Let tbe scout track 
 tbe scout. Though not equal to Ballon, not equal to " the 
 Trailer," Bram bad a good nose, was untiring, sagacious, vigi 
 lant, quick to follow, and keen to find. 
 
 " I mus look a ter dis pistol-pusson," said be quietly. 
 
 " Yes, Bram, that is wbat you are now to do ; but the 
 course for you is down to Holly-Dale. You must cross with 
 me. I shall be about tbe bluff till midnight, and if you can get 
 up to me by tbat hour, we shall recross together. We have 
 got too much work to-morrow not to need all the sleep we can 
 get to night, and my eyes are even now drawing straws." 
 
 Tbe canoe was put out with the two in it, passed rapidly over 
 to the other side, and fastened out of sight among tbe swamp 
 willows at tbe foot of the bluff. Sinclair gave full directions to 
 tbe negro, and tbe stout and faithful fellow had soon buried 
 bimself in the thickets below Holly-Dale, and was working bis 
 way downward, sly as a fox, stealthy as a serpent, and keen- 
 eyed as a lynx. He had some two miles to go before be could 
 reach the spot where Sinclair had escaped bis peril. We need 
 not follow him. His master had ascended tbe bluff meanwbile, 
 and stolen off to a little grove of cedars, where be was wont to 
 meet with Bertha Travis and her brother. Here he laid liins- 
 self down to wait. He looked up through tbe green foliage, ,- t 
 tbe stars, out upon tbe river, gliding downward with a ple.-.s- 
 ant murmur, softly bright, darkly clear, and with awing of cool 
 ing speeding over its surface from the east. Tbat breeze was 
 full of the inspiring sense of life. He threw bis bosom wide 
 to its penetrating freshness. His day had been one of toil, be 
 neath a sky that seemed all one sun. He bad scarcely rested 
 from motion one hour in the twelve ; and the present respite, 
 
358 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 in that cool breeze, was something more than relief. It won 
 him from musing into dreaming, in which all the images were 
 delicious. 
 
 After a while two figures emerged from the grove, and came 
 out upon the bluff. They were Bertha and Henry Travis. 
 
 " He is not here," said the boy. 
 
 " He is among the cedars," answered the girl, and they turned 
 to the left, and moved down the slope leading to the swamp, 
 where the cedars grew most thickly, the boy leading the way, 
 the girl following slowly. In a few moments he hurried to her 
 and said in a whisper : 
 
 " Oh ! Bertha, would you believe it, he is asleep under the 
 cedars, sound asleep ! Who would believe it. I thought a 
 trooper never slept." 
 
 And he laughed merrily at his own notion. The girl hesi 
 tated for a moment. But why? Ask that inscrutable little 
 deity who occupies so gladly the vacant places in a virgin s 
 heart, to unfold to you the mystery of his rule, and the caprice 
 which marks his impulse. There was some little strange con 
 ceit of maidenhood which made Bertha Travis reluctant to look 
 upon her lover sleeping. It was a new situation in which to 
 see him. 
 
 But Henry pulled her forward. 
 
 " Only think, a great dragoon officer asleep on his post." 
 
 He must be very tired, Henry. Besides, he is not now on 
 duty." 
 
 "Indeed!" said the boy pertly "but you know nothing 
 about it. He told me himself that he was never on severer 
 duty than now." 
 
 " And it has exhausted him." 
 
 " We must wake him up." 
 
 " No ! Let him sleep. He must be very much tired to sink 
 down and sleep here." 
 
 The girl might well say that. Sinclair had never dreamed 
 that he should be so surprised by the velvet-footed god, on the 
 very threshold of his sweetheart s dwelling, and when he came 
 especially to see her. 
 
 " But suppose he should be surprised, Bertha, by some of 
 these scouter? ? Who knows ? They re all about. 
 
HOW LOVERS MAY FOftGET THEMSELVES. 359 
 
 " We ll watch for him, Henry," said the girl. " He must be 
 very tired to fall asleep here." 
 
 Surely, Bertha, no conclusion could be more logical. 
 
 " Very well ! I ll keep sentry along that wood. You watch 
 here, Bertha, and when I give the alarm, and fire off my piece, 
 do you prepare to rouse him and run. Take right down the 
 slope for the swamp ; you ll find the dug-out down among the 
 willows, and push right out into the stream." 
 
 The boy was anxious to feel his responsibilities, and to prove 
 that he was equal to them. The damsel laughed. 
 
 " Where s your piece, Henry ?" 
 
 " Oh ! never mind. I only used the military phrase. When 
 I give tongue and shout, you may know that the enemy is 
 upon us." 
 
 And the boy marched away full of dignity, and took post 
 along the edge of the wood. Bertha walked around her lover, 
 looked down upon him, stole nearer, looked out to see if Henry s 
 eyes could watch her as well as the wood, and, seemingly satis 
 fied of the impossibility of his doing the feat, she suffered her 
 self to sink down near the head of our sleeping dragoon. 
 
 Sinclair slept profoundly, breathing easily and gently, as if 
 no load lay upon his chest or conscience. Bertha watched 1 the 
 noble ingenuous face a& it lay revealed beneath the starlight, 
 and she thought ah ! that is beyond us we really know not 
 what she thought. But unquestionably thought was busy in her 
 little brain, and feeling in her heart. The picture made her 
 think. The feminine mind thinks through pictures, precisely 
 as does that of genius ; hence the .delicacy of genius its ex 
 quisite sensibilities which can appreciate the most delicate 
 sympathies in humanity. It is because of t}\efe?ninine element, 
 which distinguishes the true genius always. It is the soul in 
 forming the sensuous. 
 
 We have no right to pry into Bertha s thoughts, but we may 
 watch her conduct. She gazed, for long, upon the face of the 
 sleeper, seeming never weary of the. gaze after awhile her 
 hands lifted his hair he had made a pillow of his cap and 
 drew out the long masses, which had grown in the busy excite 
 ments of war, which left no time for the toilet, almost as long 
 ab those of Absalom or Samson ; and, playing with his hair, and 
 
360 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 looking in his face Bertha finally slept also! her head 
 being quietly suffered to rest beside her lover s while one of 
 her arms of course without her consciousness stretched over 
 and rested upon his bosom. Was ever such a situation ! 
 
 Let us leave them for a space leave Henry Travis diligently 
 playing sentinel, and look after the scouting negro Bram. 
 
 He was not successful. " The Trailer," after the escape of 
 Sinclair, had contented himself with marking the trail, and then 
 changed his ground. As a good scout, he knew too well the 
 danger of lingering too long in the old form. He had mounted 
 and made off within a quarter of an hour after. 
 
 But Brain snaked the precinct for a couple of tedious hours. 
 He had just resolved to give up the search, and return to his 
 master, when, stretching out his body, for relief from the con 
 tracted position, he felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder 
 from behind. The heart of the negro was in his mouth in an 
 instant. He knew that the enemy, if such he were, had him at 
 great advantage, and with a grunt, he muttered in low tones: 
 
 " Who dat r 
 
 He was relieved by a good-humored but subdued laugh, in 
 the well-known voice of Jim Ballou. 
 
 " And I say, nigger, is that the way you do your scouting, 
 grunting as you go as you go just like a lazy hog in scarce 
 acorn time ? I know d you by the grunt, twenty yards off. I 
 did twenty yards off." 
 
 " Ha ! I so glad. I bin feard, Ballou, when you put you 
 paw pon my shoulder, twa some ob dem d m Ingl art tory 
 I so glad tis you. And whay de debbla you bin all dis time?" 
 
 " That s what we may talk about, old fellow, when we get to 
 camp get to camp ! Where s the major now ?" 
 " I leff him on de Bluff at Holly-Dale." 
 
 " Well, let s go there go !" 
 
 And thither they went. 
 
 Our young self-appointed sentinel, Henry Travis, was at hi& 
 post, pacing to and fro .along the edge of the wood, satisfied 
 that he was doing great things, and doing them excellently 
 well. His imagination was picturing to his eyes, a future 
 career in arms, in which he was to become the obssrved of 
 all observers. He was achieving brilliant enterprises; passing 
 
HOW LOVERS MAY FORGET THEMSELVES. 
 
 rapidly through all grades of promotion ; he was already 
 a colonel of cavalry, and calculating a quick passage over 
 the interval separating him still from the command of a bri 
 gade. That was certain, however. Oh ! the dream of youth ! 
 how pleasantly it persuades the hope over that dreary Za- 
 hara, which teaches us the sternness of truth, in its naked 
 simplicity, at such perilous cost that experience which young 
 men too little value, and old men are apt to value too much ! 
 
 Just then, the boy was made a prisoner clasped tenaciously 
 in a pair of rough arms, against which his struggles were of as 
 much avail as those of a butterfly in the vice of a blacksmith. 
 
 What an empire of dream was upset in a moment. The 
 colonel was a prisoner the hope of the brigadiership was gone 
 gone gone! So complete was the surprise that the poor 
 sentinel totally forgot to discharge his piece that is, forgot 
 that he had need to shout his loudest, to apprize the sleeping 
 dragoon of his enemy. Before he quite recovered himself to 
 
 halloo he kicked and struggled lustily, however, in silence 
 
 the merry chuckle of Bram relieved him, and he was released. 
 His captor was Jim Ballon, who said to him : 
 
 " It takes a good deal, Master Henry, to make a sodger ; and 
 to be a good sentinel a man ought to be a good sodger. It s mighty 
 hard to keep down thinking when a man s a watching, and yet 
 to be thinking at such a time is apt to turn out mighty poor 
 watching poor watching. You see how easy it was to capti 
 vate you." 
 
 " But how could you come up and I not hear you, Mr. Ballou ?" 
 
 " That s an art in scouting, Master Henry, and if Jim Ballou 
 is good for anything it is scouting. I m a sort of born scout 
 a born scout it comes from natur, mostly, though one has a 
 great deal to larn to make natur perfect perfect. But where s 
 the major ?" 
 
 " He s sleeping yonder down among the cedars. He was so 
 tired. We found him asleep, and sister said she d watch by 
 him , and I was to watch the wood, and I did think I was watch 
 ing closely, and to be so caught !" 
 
 The boy was mortified. It was, indeed, something of a fall 
 from the brilliant progress to a colonelcy, with a brigadiership 
 in the vista, into sudden and unexpected captivity 
 
 16 
 
362 THE FORAYEKS. 
 
 " Never you mind, Master Henry," said the scout consoling 
 him. " No man can be made a sodger in a day, or a year. It s 
 a business for a good long life. It s easier a great deal for a 
 young man to fight than to watch. You must keep his blood on 
 a boil if you want good work out of him. On a boil, I say. If 
 you don t if you let the fire burn down, he ll be looking out 
 for the stars, and walk into the pit into the pit. Five years 
 sodgering is needful to make a fellow even a good sentinel, and 
 it takes more than that a great deal to make a scout. You ll 
 do better on a charge than on a post, Master Henry, and you 
 needn t get vexed with yourself, or feel ashamed that you ain t 
 a perfect sodger at the beginning of the war. I ain t afeard 
 that you won t make a good one in time g od in time. You ll 
 do ! you will ! But let s look up the major now. He s got to 
 open his eyes yes, open his eyes, now." 
 
 The three walked together across the bluff toward the cedars, 
 ind Sinclair and Bertha still lay sleeping side by side, her 
 slender arm across his herculean breast. 
 
 " Why, they re loth asleep !" cried Henry. 
 
 "Yes, who d believe it!" responded Ballou. " It s a pictur 
 of the babies in the wood babies in the wood." 
 
 " How dat, Jim Ballou !" quoth Bram, indignant. " You call 
 big man like dat baby ?" 
 
 " Man or baby, he must up and be a-doing. Hello, major ! 
 Hello ! and heave up !" 
 
 With a fling that shook the arm of Bertha from his bosom, 
 Sinclair leaped to his feet, and drew his pistols. 
 
 " Friends, major," said Ballou, " friends." 
 
 "How! what s this, Ballou?" Then seeing Bertha, now 
 starting up and rising, bewildered rather than ashamed at her 
 situation. " Ha ! you too, Bertha ?" And he clasped her in his 
 arms. 
 
 " When did you come ?" 
 
 She could tell him nothing. They had both slept three hours 
 at least, and merrily did Henry Travis laugh, and pleasant were 
 the mutual chucklings of Ballou and Bram, as they thought of 
 the discovery. 
 
 Poor Bertha knew not what to say. Of course she tried to 
 explain and to understand. She had watched, she knew not 
 
HOW LOVERS MAY FORGET THEMSELVES. 
 
 how long, and still lie slept. And everything was so quiet, and 
 Henry was on the watch and and 
 
 " Say no more, dear heart," said Sinclair, taking her long 
 tresses into his hands they had escaped the comb while she 
 slept " Say no more! I am only vexed with myself that I 
 should sleep like a dullard, without once dreaming what a dear 
 companion was at my side. And what news, Ballou ? Where 
 have you harbored so long ?" 
 
 I reckon, major, you begun to think I had fallen back upon 
 the Jamaica." 
 
 " I confess, Ballou, such were my fears !" 
 
 " I know d it ! I know d it ! But you were wrong. Hadn t 
 I made an eternal oath, and didn t I call upon the Lord himself 
 to be a witness ? When I break that oath, major, I m a lost 
 sinner ! No ! I hain t had a drop to drink, and not always a 
 mouthful to eat. I ve had hard work, and was so bewildered 
 between the two rapscallions, Devil Dick and the Trailer, that 
 I couldn t get to you. I wished a thousand times that I could 
 split myself into three into three split myself into three 
 parts and each of them a good Jim Ballou scout that I 
 might do the thing clean. Twas work, sir work! And we ve 
 all got to work, sir. There s trouble in the wind, sir in the 
 wind." 
 
 And the party seated themselves while Jim Ballou told the 
 story of his progress from the moment of his start, on the trail 
 of the two outlaws. We shall have to abridge this narrative to 
 our limits, though Sinclair found it an interesting one, as did 
 Bertha and Henry Travis. 
 
864 THE FORAY EH8. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 DOUBT, ANXIETY, PREPARATION. 
 
 " Now this traverse, 
 
 Will he as promptly take and well pursue, 
 As if the zig-zag of the perilous road, 
 Were fashioned in his brain ; each trick and turn, 
 Having no finger pointer on the route, 
 As legible as if written down by card." The Strategist. 
 
 "You had the start of them twelve hours, major. They 
 tracked you to Turkey hill. They lost you there." 
 
 "How do you know that, Ballou?" 
 
 " I tracked them, and found where they were at fault. I 
 know how they missed you. They followed your trail to the 
 stable, and supposed they followed It back to the house when 
 you set out again. But you did not go back to the house, 
 though that was the common way, when you went off. Youi 
 horse wasn t brought up to the house at all. You went to the 
 stable, and there mounted. I found your moccasin track in the 
 sand by the post of the ga^e. When you left the stable you 
 went out of the bacli door, there you mounted, and went right 
 clown into the creek ; you kept the creek up for twenty yards, 
 when you went out upon the banks, and there took the Granby 
 road down for a while, Avlien you struck into Cawcaw swamp, 
 and kept the edge of it $11 you were within a mile of the vil 
 lage ; there you fastened your horse to a hickory, on the edge 
 of a bay that was a sink hole and pushed out straight for the 
 village. I reckon from the footmarks of the horse, stamping 
 where you hitched him, that you had him there half the night. 
 You brought him out twenty large ears of corn no nubbins 
 and three bundles of fodder. You brought it yourself; for there 
 were no foot-tracks but your own When you mounted again. 
 
DOUBT, ANXIETY, PREPARATION 365 
 
 which I reckon you did just about daylight, you took the road 
 on the outside of the village till you struck in for the bridge 
 there you crossed, pushed up the river road for a bit, then went 
 into cover, and hitched your nag again, and kept him some 
 hours hitched, when you pushed forward again, and made through 
 the woods till you got to the bluff at Holly-Dale. Before I had 
 done tracking you to the village, Brain caught up with me, and 
 when we had tracked you to Holly-Dale, we crossed the liver 
 at the ford below, and I planted Bram in the camp oppotite the 
 Holly-Dale landing, where he was to signal you." 
 
 " So far right all as you say, Ballon ! But what made you 
 separate from Bram ?" 
 
 " I didn t think he was of much account in helping me " 
 
 " Wha dat ! Ha ! Bram nobody, I spose ?" 
 
 " Yes, you re good enough, Bram, and could ha helped me, 
 as I found afterward, but I didn t think it then. The business 
 then before me was to find the trail of Devil Dick and Brunson. 
 That was the true business, and it has kept me mighty busy I 
 can tell you mighty busy ever since I left your trail. For 
 you see Dick and Brunson divided, and I could never get on 
 the spot where they did divide, and they worried me from side 
 to side, with the crossing of their trails, and I did not dare to 
 leave em to bring up Bram for fear I should lose em both. 
 But I soon found that when they had lost you at Turkey hill, 
 they guessed it boldly that you d make for Holly-Dale, and 
 here they come, almost in a bee-line." 
 
 Ah! well!" 
 
 " They ve been on your track more than once, but I don t 
 think they found out our ford until to-day, even if they ve found 
 it out at all, and what with your constant changes, and the use 
 of the dug-out both here and at Captain Rowe s, they ve been 
 kept mighty busy to got and keep on the track. Well, as I 
 was to watch after them that were a-watching after you, I had 
 nothing to do but to keep their trails warm, and that s been 
 work enough. To-day, Devil Dick laid eyes on you, I reckon, 
 for the first time He must have seen you go into the wood 
 with Captain Travis. He was hid that is, his horse which 
 is Pete Blodgit s by rights was hid on the opposite side of 
 the bay where you and the, captain sat and talked. I reckon 
 
366 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 he was not more than three hundred yards of you all the time, 
 but I couldn t find his trail anywhere from his horse s." 
 
 " He couldn t have heard our speech." 
 
 " I don t know, but I reckon not. The bay was thick and 
 wide, more than a hundred yards across, and, as I tell you his 
 nag was fastened in the woods t other side. If he had been 
 watching near enough to hear you, he would have been quite 
 near enough to shoot you both, and I reckon there was no good 
 reason why he shouldn t do it, if he could. He passed me going 
 down I suppose after you had gone up about fifty yards off, 
 and was then going it, in a smart canter, toward the village. 
 If I had been mounted, I could have overhauled him as he 
 rode, but my horse was hidden half-a-mile off, and I was sna 
 king it toward the bay, where I know d you had gone in. As 
 for the Trailer, I lost his track yesterday, and couldn t stop 
 to hunt it up, being so keen after Devil Dick s, though from 
 what Bram tells me, and what I know myself, it must have 
 been him who shot at you this afternoon. Bram says twas a 
 pistol-bullet, and Brunson and Devil Dick, both have pistols 
 and nothing else, except perhaps a knife ; and there s been no 
 hostile person, that I could find, upon any of the tracks here 
 about in the last three days. Of course that s always excepting 
 the visit of Captain Inglehardt and four of his mounted men to 
 Holly-Dale ; but they took openly up the main road." 
 
 Sinclair listened to this narrative with close attention, inter 
 rupting it only when he desired fuller details in regard to par 
 ticular facts. Ballou resumed, and closed thus : 
 
 " I pushed after Devil Dick, till I made sure that he had 
 crossed the bridge, and had gone into the village. Then 
 turned about and pushed up where I thought I should find you. 
 But I thought it best to snake awhile on the old trail of Brunson, 
 for I was jubous he was going to give us trouble ; and so it was 
 that I happene 3 to come upon Bram, who was crawling over a log, 
 and forgetting himself, and giving a grunt like an old hog every 
 now and then ; as if a good scout wasn t always a silent dog." 
 
 " I hu t [hurt] myse f on de log, das wha mek me grunt ; and 
 ef you bin hu t youse f like me, Mass Ballon, I reckon you lay 
 up free day wid grunts and flictions." 
 
 Ballou didn t notice this resentful speech. He resumed j 
 
DOUBT, ANXIETY, PREPARATION. 367 
 
 " It s for you, major, to say what s to be (lone. There s no 
 saying what Devil Dick s gone to Orangeburg for. But he s 
 after mischief. He s a deserter from Inglehardt s own rangers, 
 and so s Branson, but they ll join again, if Inglehardt ll let 
 them. My idee is that he s gone to make terms with his old 
 captain, and that he expects to catch you here at Holly-Dale. 
 So, look out that s all be on the look out." 
 
 " Bertha, I must see your father. You and Henry must now 
 return to the house. But you will scarce need any more sleep 
 to-night, eh ?" 
 
 This was said archly, and he walked on with the damsel, in 
 the direction of the dwelling, and their parting words were in 
 audible to other ears. 
 
 " Henry," said he to the boy" are you willing to do duty ?" 
 
 "Anything, Major Willie, for you." 
 
 Do you know the place called Bull-fight Pond ?" 
 
 Yes, every cypress round it." 
 
 " Can you get a horse by sunrise to-morrow and canter off 
 there, letting nobody know but Bertha ?" 
 
 " Yes, I can do it, if I let nobody know. But if father or 
 mother guessed it, they d never suffer it. They re for keeping 
 me a boy always." 
 
 " Take this ring, ride thither as soon as you can in the morn 
 ing ; you will probably find the troops of St. Julien there. Give 
 him that ring, by which he will know that you come from me, 
 and tell him that he must use his spurs. Let him come off with 
 you, and see that he hides away in the wood on the opposite 
 side of the road just fronting your upper avenue. He will know 
 my signal, and when he arrives here and puts himself in cover, 
 tell him to hang out his as agreed on." 
 
 The brother and sister moved quickly to the house. Sinclair 
 lurked about the edges of the thin wood which lay between 
 him and the river. The two scouts kept watch on the thickets 
 below. Soon, Captaii; Travis joined our major of dragoons, airi 
 received in brief sentences, the report made by Ballou. 
 
 It staggered him. 
 
 " This is unfortunate, ft will precipitate events. I expected 
 to break with him, and \v,. s preparing to defy him. To-mor 
 row s interview will probably enable me to do that. But" 
 
>68 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 The other interrupted him. 
 
 " Of that interview he can know nothing. I have no reason 
 to suppose that this spy has arrived at anything more than the 
 fact that we have been together, and that I am harbored at 
 Holly-Dale. He has only reached me, by suspecting that I 
 would be here." 
 
 " And Inglehardt will seek you here ? He hates you, and 
 would destroy you without remorse." 
 
 " I know it but fear nothing for myself. I shall be pre 
 pared for Inglehardt and will gladly welcome the struggle with 
 him. But there is one whom I am loath to peril here, with the 
 chances of a conflict before me, the results of which are doubt 
 ful. Why not defer this interview ?" 
 
 " To me it would probably be fatal ! To save myself I shall 
 have to fly whither? To the doubtful securities of the 
 American party. No ! not unless I had the one guaranty from 
 the only hand that can give it. I must have his pledge. I 
 will trust no other." 
 
 " But can you not put yourself in hiding until the opportuni 
 ty for the meeting is afforded you ?" 
 
 "That would be fatal to my fortunes. It would be equiva 
 lent to a full confession of all that might be charged against me, 
 and would lead to the confiscation of all my effects." 
 
 " Your negroes might le run this very night. Bram will take 
 iharge of them to and across the Santee." 
 
 " I will not risk that. I know that Rawdon with his twelve 
 hundred men are approaching from the Congaree. I know 
 that Stewart, with a like force and convoy, is pressing up from 
 below, to a junction with Rawdon Between these armies the 
 risk would be immense, since they necessarily preclude the 
 possibility of any American parties between." 
 
 "Not so conclusive. Greene is in full pursuit of Rawdon, 
 find his forces consist mostly of mounted infantry. Sumter, 
 Washington, Marion, and Lee, working apart at this moment, 
 are under orders for co-operation. They will unite and force 
 Rawdon to an engagement, with the odds all on our side. But 
 do you know that Cruger is pressing down from Ninety-Six 
 with a force of twelve hundred also, the garrison at that place, 
 and all the loyalists of the region, the men all mounted, and 
 
DOUBT, ANXIETY, PREPARATION. 369 
 
 ordered to take this very route between the forks of Edisto ? 
 Judge what are the chances of safety for your negroes, if Cru- 
 ger finds them here, and learns from Inglehardt that you have 
 abandoned the royal cause." 
 
 Travis clasped his head between his hands. 
 
 " On every side I see the danger. But Cruger is not here 
 yet, and can not well be here under three days ; and I will not 
 I dare not trust the Americans with my property, until I 
 have the guaranty of that one signature which alone can insure 
 me safety. If it comes to the worst, Major Sinclair, I can al 
 ways buy off Inglehardt." 
 
 " With the hand of your daughter ?" said the other indig 
 nantly. 
 
 " Ay, sir ! and a child, for whom a father has toiled all his 
 life, may well make a sacrifice in his behalf, which will insure 
 her all that he has toiled for." 
 
 Sinclair strode the ground to and fro, with impatience, anxi 
 ety, and a feverish vexation, which he could scarcely suppress 
 from speech. 
 
 " Captain Travis," he said, " is it possible that you do not 
 see what you require me to put in peril the very destinies of 
 the state?" 
 
 " I can not help it, sir ! I must have the required securities. 
 None other will avail me. But I do not think that Inglehardt 
 will attempt anything so soon. He knows not what we know. 
 He only knows that you have been with me that you are 
 lurking about and that I am dealing with you, and so against 
 himself." 
 
 "And will not this precipitate his action?" 
 
 " Not till he is stronger. His force is small, and he will ap 
 prehend from Coulter." 
 
 Captain Travis, I pledge you my life that you will receive 
 the required indemnity without needing Ms presence here. I 
 will guaranty it. Say the word, and I despatch Ballou to keep 
 him from coming here. I will remain, and do what I can toward 
 receiving Inglehardt in a proper manner." 
 
 But Tvavis had become dogged in degree with his own ap 
 prehensions. 
 
 "I must have the signature the certificate and then I 
 
870 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 care not how soon the issue comes. I shall then be ready for 
 any evei.l. But I know too well the tender mercies of the 
 whigs to the loyalists to trust them without written security, 
 which shall acknowledge my services, now, while the war lasts, 
 and after it, when the reign of peace shall witness the resent 
 ments of society against the victims of war. I must insist upon 
 the arrangement or nothing." 
 
 " Be it so. I shall submit the facts to himself, though I ride 
 all night. He shall determine for himself." 
 
 " Remember, Major Sinclair, how many necks of Charleston 
 citizens lie in my keeping !" 
 
 " Do not threaten, Captain Travis, I implore you !" was the 
 answer, in tones full of disgust. 
 
 " I can t help it, sir. Tell him all." 
 
 " Enough; I will tell him all that it is proper he should 
 know. But, I would have you, as the father of Bertha Travis, 
 forbeai a language which would give her pain, and can not do 
 you honor." 
 
 " Oh ! sir, I have survived the romantic notions of youth." 
 
 " Honor and magnanimity are, I trust, not less the virtues 
 of age. Can it be, sir, that, under any circumstances, you 
 would give up to British vengeance, the people of whom you 
 speak ?" 
 
 " I must make them, if need be, the price of my own security." 
 
 " Heavens !" exclaimed Sinclair, striding away. He returned 
 a moment after. 
 
 " Sir Mr. Travis T will communicate with my principal 
 to-night. He shall know the risk which he is required to en 
 counter, and if he determine to meet you, I will do all that I 
 can to see that he does not suffer. If you will not trust me, Tie 
 may trust you ; and I I will put my trust, under God, in my 
 self, and my own resources. Enough then I must hasten 
 from you. One word before we part. You have those fatal 
 papers in safety I" 
 
 "I have!" 
 
 " Let me give you a friend s counsel. If there be any of 
 your papers in the village likely to give you trouble, gallop 
 down there to-night, with all the secrecy you can, and get them 
 in your possession." 
 
DOUBT, ANXIETY, PREPARATION. S7J 
 
 " I am safe in that quarter." 
 
 " So much the better. I leave you. If you do not hear from 
 me by midday to-morrow, take for granted that we withdraw 
 from the meeting. It is one which I dare not counsel now." 
 
 The next moment, Sinclair had left the place, and, accom 
 panied by Ballou and Abram, was recrossing the river to his 
 camp. There, he gave commissions to both, which were to be 
 executed before morning, and while he himself prepared to 
 leave the swamp for a rapid ride toward the northeast, Ballou 
 set off for the ford with instructions to seek for Coulter ; Brain, 
 on the other hand, *ped away in the opposite direction. 
 
 " If there is to be treachery and danger," said our major of 
 dragoons to him, " they shall not find me unprepared." 
 
 At twelve o clock, the next day, Travis received a slip, jn- 
 taining these words : 
 
 " Let him of H. D. know that I see no reason to depart from 
 our arrangement as originally made. J. R." 
 
 It was enough. Travis destroyed the paper as soon as he 
 had read it. He had heard nothing of Inglehardt. The day 
 was calm and bright. He did not believe that he had anything 
 to fear. Inglehardt was not likely to hurry himself. He did 
 not relish open demonstrations. He preferred a secret policy, 
 and this always requires time. 
 
 Where, meanwhile, was Sinclair ? where Ballou and Bram ? 
 Young Henry Travis, too, has gone, unsuspected upon his mis 
 sionbrave, ambitious boy speeding at a smart canter in 
 search of the troop of St. Julien. All are at work ; all busy to 
 one end, the issue of which is yet deeply hidden beneath the 
 cloudy veil which ever hides the coming dawn. They are all 
 busy, and with cheerful hearts and hopeful spirits. But the 
 adverse stars are working. Their enemies are busy also ; as 
 how should it be otherwise ? the natural antagonism of evil, 
 being the true motive-power for the exercise of good ! Oh ; 
 what an absurdity were Virtue, if Vice stood not confronting 
 her, with black aspect, and serpent cunning, and horrent spear ! 
 
872 THE FORAYEES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 DICK OF TOPHET ON THE CARPET. 
 
 " Command our present members 
 Be mustered ; bid the captain look to t Now, sir, 
 What have you dreamed of late of this war s purpose ?"- 
 " We ll slip you for a season 1" Oymbeline, 
 
 IT was night when Hell-fire Dick found himself in Orange- 
 burg, and at the entrance of the widow Bruce s dwelling. 
 
 Captain Tnglehardt had been busy all the day with his raw 
 recruits, preparing for a recommencement of the duties of the 
 field, and especially seeking to have them in readiness for the 
 prospective encounter Math the troop of Coulter. His scouts 
 were still on the hunt below, along the swamps of Edisto. 
 Inglehavdt sat in his chamber seeking solace in his pipe, when 
 the door opened, and Dick of Tophet stood before him wild 
 of aspect, shaggy haired, with ragged raiment, the grim picture 
 of the ruffian and outlaw that he was. 
 
 It was some moments before the captain of loyalists recog 
 nised his visiter. When he did, he said : 
 
 " What ! You ! Are you not afraid to show yourself here, 
 Dick 1 Don t you know that your life is forfeited 1 What 
 should keep you from the gallows, fellow, if I should call in a 
 few of my troopers ?" 
 
 " They re not in calling distance, cappin. I took care of 
 that afore I come here. I know jest where they keep, and 
 know that ef twas in me to do sich a thing, I could slash you 
 to pieces afore you could sing a psalm. No ! no ! I felt my 
 way all along as I come, and I made sure thai* was no risk. I 
 am too old a sodger to trust any offser in the army with my 
 life." 
 
 The coolness of the ruffian might have alarmed a more timid 
 
DICK OF TOPHET ON THE CARPET. 373 
 
 and less-prepared person than Richard Inglehardt. He simply 
 cast his eyes upon the pistols that lay before him, convenienl 
 to his grasp, to say nothing of the rapier which had just been 
 unbuckled from his side, and leaned against the panel of the fire 
 place. To grasp either would have been easy. But Inglehardt 
 knew his man, and well conceived that he never would have 
 shown himself but that he had a bargain to drive promising 
 some advantages for any favor he might receive. Besides, ho 
 was never more in want of such a person than at the present 
 moment, and half-fancied that the devil had sent him for tlie 
 peculiar emergency. Still, he was not prepared to admit his 
 own wants, or to accord his favor too readily. He answered the 
 ruffian in the same spirit which prompted his first address. 
 
 " Rascal ! You have at least lost none of your audacity. 
 Rags, wretchedness, starvation, outlawry, none of these seem to 
 humble you. You a-re a fool, Dick, with all the devil that you 
 have in you. As for slashing me to pieces, I could blow your 
 brains out before you could lift a finger. Do you suppose 
 that because my troop is in the woods, that I have not help at 
 hand ?" 
 
 At this moment, a footfall behind the intruder, and between 
 him and the door, caused him to turn his head ; when he beheld 
 a great tall angular backwoodsman, weapon in hand, who had just 
 entered the apartment. His presence seemed to confirm Ingle- 
 hardt s boast of succor, and occasioned a doubt, in the mind of 
 the intruder, whether he himself was secure. In an instant his 
 couteau de chasse was flourished in one hand, while he drew a 
 pistol with the other. 
 
 " It ll be a bear fight first, I tell you tooth and nail!" 
 cried the ruffian desperately, and receding obliquely, so as to 
 face both Inglehardt and the backwoodsman. The latter carried 
 a bayonet at his side, but he seemed taken all aback by the 
 suddenness of the affair. 
 
 " Pshaw!" said Inglehardt, with quiet scorn, taking up and 
 tapping his snuff-box " you will still be a fool, Joel Andrews. 
 Do you suppose if I wished for your worthless life that I would 
 suffer you to stand for a moment ? Put up your weapon ; and 
 do you, Brownlee, take yourself off for a while. I do not want 
 you." 
 
374 THE PORAYERS. 
 
 " Bill Graham has come in from below, sir " 
 
 " Well, let him wait." 
 
 Brownlee was retiring when Inglehardt called him back. 
 
 " Stay," said he " send Graham up. I will finish with hib. 
 first." 
 
 Brownlee went out, and Graham the next moment came in 
 another stout forester. 
 
 "Well Graham." 
 
 " Coulter s gone, sir, gone up and across South Edisto. He 
 went yesterday, they tell me. He was about Chevillette s till 
 night afore last, was then seen about the Pou Settlement, after 
 wards pushed off for Cannon s. Fry and Nathan both report 
 his troop at fourteen or fifteen men." 
 
 " Fourteen or fifteen men ! We can manage them, I think. 
 Have you anything farther to report, Graham ?" 
 
 " Nothing, sir." 
 
 " Well, go below, and remain with Brownlee. I shall prob 
 ably call you after a while." 
 
 " And these fellows do your scouting, cappin ?" said Dick of 
 Tophet, after the other had departed, with something of con 
 tempt in his speech. 
 
 " Yes ! Could you do better, Dick ?" 
 
 " Couldn t I ? and thar s the Trailer* with me, who s worth 
 a dozen of sich chaps." 
 
 " The Trailer ! Dy you mean Brunson ?" 
 
 " Jest so ! He s worth a dozen of em." 
 
 " And is he with you ?" 
 
 " He s not far off." 
 
 " Ha ! very good. And what have you to say for yourself." 
 
 " Well, I ve got to say that I m mighty hungry, and I want 
 some good clothes." 
 
 " Faith you do ; you have been rolling in the briers for a 
 month, I fancy, and your desire is to be well fed, and decently 
 clad, that you may look the better in the rope." 
 
 I hain t got the feeling of rope about my neck this time, 
 cappin." 
 
 " But you deserve it . You are a deserter from the anna ot 
 his majesty." 
 
 " I knows it." 
 
DICK OF TOPHET ON THE CARPET. 376 
 
 " You have been serving in the ranks of Marion." 
 
 " Yes, I sarved them in sich a way that they made the rope 
 ready for me on the Santee, and ef twarnt for the old devil s 
 good help, I d ha been run up to a swinging limb, without a 
 sign of a jacket on me." 
 
 " Why did you leave us ?" 
 
 " Well, that little slaughtering business, which was all a 
 haccident, as I may say, the killing of old Gregson and his wife." 
 
 " And wasn t that enough to hang a dozen such fellows as 
 yourself. You plundered and murdered the people that gave 
 you supper and a bed." 
 
 " Psho, cappin, that ain t the way to name it. The old man 
 swore agin me for robbing him." 
 
 " And you did rob him." 
 
 " Twant no robbery ! I jest took a little change of clothes 
 that I wanted, and that he hadn t much use for, and there was 
 a little money in the pockets. I warn t to know that. And the 
 old fellow set upon me like a mad-dog, and I down d him." 
 
 "He had no weapons." 
 
 " I don t ax that question when a fellow takes me by the 
 throat, cappin." 
 
 " But the wife you stabbed her." 
 
 " Well, she flew at me too. There was them two upon me 
 one, and they pulled and hauled me about as ef I was nobody. 
 Flesh and blood can t stand everything." 
 
 " Joel Andrews, flesh and blood find such deeds as yours a 
 hanging matter, even in war-time." 
 
 " Well, I know you ain t a-gwine to hang me for that busi 
 ness. Why, cappin, it s high time that it was clean forgot. 
 It s a year old, by this time." 
 
 " And what have you been doing since in the way of burn 
 ing, and robbing, and slaughtering ?" 
 
 " Well, cappin, I don t care to be talking of sich little mat 
 ters, and thar s no use for it. Least said s soonest mended. 
 You see me here now, willing to make up and jine you, and 
 sarve the king once more, and do good service." 
 
 " Until you run again ! No ! no ! Joel Andrews, there s no 
 trusting you. I m afraid you ve come to be hung." 
 
 " Not this time, cappin. A born inseal, like myself, is a leetla 
 
376 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 too useful for you now to give him up. You re a-wanting mek 
 at the bottom of your soul, this very minute." 
 " You are a born devil, Andrews." 
 
 " Well, I ain t so sure but it s the better for me, considerin 
 the sort of people I hev to sarve." 
 
 " The father of lies is certainly your father." 
 " Edzackly ; yet I makes a good use of the truth when I kin 
 get it. I ve got some truth now that you d like to hear, cap- 
 pin." 
 
 " Ah ! you are for making terms for your life, Dick." 
 " Not so, cappin ; I m for making tarms for sarvice, and em 
 ployment, and a handsome payment. I knows very well, the 
 valley of what I ve got to tell you; and, I rcckcn, you knows 
 me well enough to be sure that I wouldn t ha been so quick to 
 put myself into the halter, ef I hadn t something to say that 
 would spell me out of it and something more. So, jest let s 
 come to the marrow of the matter, right away, and jest you say 
 that all s safe, and that I shall hcv a little of the king s kine 
 [coin] in my pocket, and his picture to swear by in the ranks, 
 oft* and on duty, and I ll fill your ears with a wagon-load of in 
 telligence, sich as none of your green scouts could gather for 
 you in a year of Sundays." 
 
 " Well, let s hear your intelligence." 
 " Is it a bargain, cappin ?" 
 
 " I suppose so ! Perhaps you won t hang this time, though 
 hanging is as surely your doom, Dick, as if you were born to it. 
 Still, I have no wish to play Jack Ketch for you." 
 
 " It s a long road to the sea, cappin. I don t think I m to 
 hang so long as the old devil has something for me to do, and 
 that s jest as long as I m in the sarvice of a cappin of rangers." 
 " Don t be saucy, Dick." 
 
 " Not for the world, cappin ; but say out, up and down, am 
 1 to hev the king s kine again, and to wear his pictur ? that s 
 to say, s posing I have something to tell you now, that yon cl 
 like to hear better, prehaps, than anything else that a man 
 could tell you. You wants my sarvices, I know, and thar s 
 Rafe Brunson, the Trailer, as good a scout as ever stcpt in 
 mockasin, betwixt here and Tarrapin Heaven. You wants 
 men ami scouts badly, and then there s my news, you know." 
 
DICK OF fOPIIET ON THE CARPET. 377 
 
 Well, Dick, I can t be too hard on you, and if your news i 
 really worth anything " 
 
 " It s worth everything. It ll put Willie Sinclair in you) 
 power ; and if rope s the word, why you kin give him as many 
 ties of it as you think proper." 
 
 " Do that, Joel Andrews, and you shall have all that you ask. t: 
 
 " It s a barg in, and now jest you listen." 
 
 Inglehardt threw himself back in a listening attitude, helped 
 his nostrils to a morsel of Scotch snuff, and motioned his com 
 panion to proceed. Dick of Topliet began his narrative. We, 
 who already know, from actual observation, so large a portion 
 of it, will not need to hear the elaborate recital of the ruffian-. 
 We shall content ourselves with abridging his report, which 
 was sufficiently full, except in those portions where he had his 
 own most villanous deeds to relate. Of these, there are many 
 not known to us ; but these are not essential to our story, and 
 still less to a proper appreciation of his ruffianism. We shall 
 begin with his pursuit of Sinclair. 
 
 " We tracked him up to Turkey hill, and thar we lost him 
 How, 1 don t know; but I never seed the Trailer so off the 
 scent. But we guessed whar he was aguine, for we know d 
 pretty much that he was a ter that gal of Travis. Well, we 
 scouted the woods all about Holly-Dale, but we couldn t find 
 the trail. How he did manage to kiver up his tracks thar s no 
 say ing. But thar he was." 
 
 " He used a boat." 
 
 " Well, thar s no tracking a boat in the water, and it s hard 
 pulling one up stream, though an easy matter to go down. But 
 knowing that he would be thar for when a chap s a ter a gal, 
 he s apt to stick to the chase we kept beating about the stamp 
 ing-ground, sure to hev him at the last. And we was sworn, 
 both me and the Trailer, to hev this same Willie Sinclair." 
 
 " Why were you so hot on his trail, Dick ?" 
 
 " Look at these burns here, on my back, on my hands, on my 
 feet. Why, I m in a sort of fiery furnace now, all the time, 
 though they ain t hafe as bad as they was three days ago." 
 
 " You don t mean to say that Sinclair burned you thus ?" de 
 manded Inglehardt, as the other displayed the scars. 
 
 " Well, twas all owing to him, and may as well say, right 
 
378 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 away, that lie cVid it. Twas to git out of his roping that I had 
 to walk into the fire, and lie down on the blazing lightwood." 
 
 Here the outlaw, having previously suppressed the account 
 of his attempt on the Sinclair Barony, was compelled to supply 
 his deficiencies. Inglehardt shook his head gravely. 
 
 " Hark you, Dick, this is a serious matter, for you, should it 
 reach the ears of Lord Rawdon. Do you not know that old 
 Sinclair is a friend to the royal cause, and intimate with Lord 
 Rawdon V 
 
 Well, I didn t ax about all sich matters, when I thought of 
 the gould and silver at the Barony, and of them hundred gould 
 guineas in the pockets of Willie Sinclair and he is no king s 
 man, as you know." 
 
 " Ah ! ha ! so you knew that Willie Sinclair had a hundred 
 guineas in his pocket ? And how did you know that ? I can 
 well understand, now, why you have been hunting him so 
 handsomely." 
 
 " In course, thyar was reason for it. In course, I knew about 
 the guineas, and how and where he got them." 
 
 Here he had to take another leap, and go back over a chasm 
 in his narrative. The history was gradually unfolding itself 
 clearly to his auditor. 
 
 " But I shan t tell you any more of the matter, cappin, ef 
 you re not guirie to make me safe. You talks as ef you d hev 
 to give me up to Lord Rawdon, about that Barony affair." 
 
 " If he ever hears of it, and looks after you, Dick, I don t see 
 how I m to escape giving you up ; and I certainly would do so, 
 if he should require it unless " 
 
 " Well, unless what ?" 
 
 " Why, unless you took the hint before the halter, and found 
 your way into the swamp, and forgot entirely that the provost 
 was waiting for you under a tree, with a plough-line dangling 
 in his fingers." 
 
 " Oh ! I see !" with a chuckle " well, I ll hold it as your 
 promise that I m to hev a hint of the s arch whenever they re 
 aguine to begin it." 
 
 Inglehardt nodded his head with a smile, and again took snuff 
 
 Well a nod s as good as a wink to a blind horse. I m sat 
 isfied. So, as I was a-telling you " 
 
DICK OP TOPHET ON THE CARPET. 079 
 
 And the outlaw resumed his narrative, and detailed his unex 
 pected discovery of Sinclair, in the conference with Travis. 
 
 " And they ve made tarms to meet to-morrow at Holly-Dale. 
 1 We ll be with you thar, says Sinclair, at three o clock 
 edzackly. " 
 
 Inglehardt listened to this statement with unexampled com 
 posure. He tapped his mull quietly, fed the reddened nostril, 
 smiled complacently on the ruffian, and motioned him to pro 
 ceed ; though all the while a raging spirit in his bosom a 
 rousing fury ~>vas goading him with the mortifying conviction 
 that Travis had outwitted him, and that he was betrayed to his 
 enemy and rival. Neither he nor Dick of Tophet ever fancied 
 that the party destined to meet with Travis was to be any 
 other than Sinclair himself. 
 
 Inglehardt sifted well the evidence of the outlaw, cross- 
 examined him closely, and gleaned from him numerous particu 
 lars of his progress and discovery, which need not be again 
 repeated. He rapidly formed his own plans as he listened. 
 
 " And now, cappin, I must hev a little ready-money. Look 
 at my clothes. I hain t had a full feed for a week ; and as for 
 a sup of Jamaica, the sweet critter is a parfect stranger to my 
 lips," 
 
 In silence, Inglehardt rose, took a bottle of rum from his 
 closet, pointed to a glass and bade the other help himself. 
 Then, as Dick drank, he wrote a billet which he handed him. 
 
 " Take that to Elbridge. You will find him at Baltczegar s. 
 He will provide you with clothes. Here are two guineas. Use 
 them sparingly ; the commodity is scarce, and will be scarcer, 
 unless we can get the hundred which Sinclair carries in his 
 pouch." 
 
 " Ah ! I don t reckon he carries it about with him all the 
 time. He s hid it away, I m jubous, when he went to Turkey 
 bill." 
 
 " Tell me, Dick, how was it, that, hating him as you do, and 
 knowing of this money, you didn t shoot him down where he 
 sat, when he talked with Travis. It would have pleased me 
 quite as well, ha 1 you left me nothing to do in this matter." 
 
 This was said very quietly and mildly, without the slightest 
 of passion or vindictiveness. 
 
80 THE FOIIAYEIIS. 
 
 " Wouldn t I hev done it, ef thar had been been a decent 
 chaince. But look at them dirty little puppies" casting a 
 pair of pistols on the table " and say ef one would be sensi 
 ble to take a risk on sich we pons, at fifteen paces, agin two 
 men, and one of them sich a man as Willie Sinclair ?" 
 
 " But you have your knife besides." 
 
 "Yes; but it s a word and a blow with Sinclair; and I ve 
 had the weight of his fist upon my ear once a ready. I tell you, 
 big man as I am, and tough as an old alligator, I went down 
 under his fist like a great bullock under the axe of a butcher. 
 He s a most powerful fellow in the gripe, and I know d them 
 pistols worn t worth at over five steps. Then agin, I thought 
 we d have him sure enough to-morrow, ef he keeps his word 
 to Travis." 
 
 " Ay, so we may have him ; and I trust he will keep his 
 word. You say he has no one with him ?" 
 
 " None that we could get the wind of. He s sartinly got no 
 troopers. We left St. Julien crossing the Santee with all the 
 corn and cattle he could gather up." 
 
 Well, go and get your clothes and supper, and return to me 
 in one hour. I shall see that you have immediate employment. 
 We must have the Trailer in. Can you find him ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, after a sign. We agreed on one afore we divided. 
 Two hours will help me to pick him up." 
 
 " I shall employ him also. Enough for the present. Away 
 now, and supply yourself. Let me see you within the hour 
 and Andrews see that you keep sober." 
 
 "Jest so, captain, and ef I m not to drink out of doors, I 
 reckon you ll not think it onreasonable ef I wets my whistle 
 agin afore I go." 
 
 And he coolly helped himself to a second and very potent 
 stoup of the Jamaica. Inglehardt beheld the measure of the 
 potation taken Avithout any apprehension. He knew what that 
 arid soil could receive without being flooded. 
 
 Inglehardt was alone in his chamber. 
 
 " So, Captain Travis, we at last fully understand each other. 
 Now, at least, I fully understand you. You have embraced my 
 enemy. You are now iny enemy. Fool ! you believe that rebel 
 lion is to triumph. You are for making terms with rebellion. You 
 
DICK OF TfTFET ON THE CARPET. 381 
 
 woull secure your spoils. But you shall do so through me only 
 and at one price. Bertha Travis shall be mine she shall 
 never wed with Willie Sinclair. I will bring you both to my 
 feet, whence neither shall rise in safety, but to satisfy my desires. 
 
 " I have you now ! 
 
 " Sinclair too in my power ! He shall die. Why didn t this 
 rascal shoot him down even where he sate. Cowed ! cowed by 
 ,1 buffet ! But the game is still in my hands." 
 
 And his plans were all arranged by the time that Dick of 
 Tophet reappeared. He was now clad in the dark green uniform 
 faced with red, of the corps of mounted rangers which Inglehardt 
 commanded. He carried a dragoon sabre, with pistols of larger 
 calibre than those he had worn before. A shaggy cap of fur, 
 too heavy for the season, formed a part of his equipment ; and 
 cap in hand resuming the more respectful department of the 
 soldier to his superior, he waited orders. 
 
 These were given, without delay, and he was despatched in 
 less than half an hour, on a mission, which involved the finding 
 and employing of Brunson, the Trailer, and a further duty 
 which they were to take together. 
 
 We are not yet permitted to know what are the plans of 
 Inglehardt. They must develop themselves. Enough to know 
 that he was subtle, cool, calculating, vigilant, taking no rest, no 
 respite, while the game was in progress. He was busy all 
 night, and threw himself down for a few hours sleep cnly when 
 the day was near its dawn. His force, we may mertion, with 
 late additions, had grown to thirty troopers, all told, 
 
THE FORAYKKB. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 WILES AND SUNSHINE BLOWS AND BONDS. 
 
 THE game of war, unlike that of chess, admits too greatly tue 
 interposition of fortune, to leave skill, however admirable, any 
 security from vicissitude. It was a wise superstition of Sylla, 
 which made him ascribe all his successes, however great, the 
 exercise of his own genius, courage and caution, to the favors 
 of the fickle goddess. The wise man will always thus make due 
 allowance for those caprices of fortune against which it is not 
 possible for any foresight to provide. As he will leave nothing 
 to Fate which can be encountered by judgment and precision, so 
 will he rise above the reverses which are apt to flow from condi 
 tions over which he can exercise no control. He will suffer 
 himself neither to forget his prudence in success, nor sink into 
 despondency from failure. The soul for the great struggle im 
 plies always great equanimity of temper and a cheerful fortitude. 
 
 The players at this game of war in our humble legend, 
 Sinclair and Inglehardt, have placed their men, decided upon 
 their game, exercised the coup d ceil with ample and deliberate 
 vision, and have staked very considerable issues upon the re 
 sult. We are to understand that each has made his arrange 
 ments for the conflict according to his resources and his best 
 ability, and these have been put in motion, in accordance with 
 the degrees of knowledge, which they severally possess, of the 
 conditions under which they work. It is not the least difficult 
 feature in this game of war, that the facts are so rarely to be 
 grasped with certainty and entireness by any military genius. 
 Inglehardt, assuming, according to all the information he could 
 obtain, a certain state of things for Sinclair, has made himself. 
 in Viia own notion > very sure of the result. He rias omitted none 
 of the precautions which could u;ake the results certain. And 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINE BLOWS AND BONDS. 383 
 
 this, too, without any open display either of his objects or re 
 sources His troop has disappeared from the immediate vicinity 
 of Orangeburg. His preparations have been also made for his 
 own personal departure at a certain hour. Meanwhile, he 
 surrenders himself up to apparent idleness. He lounges about 
 the house of the widow Bruce, with an air of lassitude which 
 seems to deprive him of all his energies. He expects a visitor, 
 in fact, and would have him suppose that nothing has undergone 
 any change in his feelings, his purposes, his conduct. He is, 
 to the last, a creature full of stratagem. He is playing his game 
 even while he seems drowsing over it. 
 
 And what is Sinclair about ? At present he is not in the 
 field, that we can see. He has eluded our vision. But, know 
 ing him as we do, we may take for granted that his game occu 
 pies all his thought that he is somewhere, in some quarter of 
 the field, making his preparations also exercising the utter 
 most forethought providing against possible reverses bring 
 ing all his faculties to bear against the coming necessity. He, 
 too, has his stratagems, but they contemplate only single objects. 
 They are not complicated like those of Inglehardt. He prefers 
 the open to the sly game the manly to the merely cunning. 
 His anxieties are great greater than those of Inglehardt, 
 since he has a greater stake in the game. He stakes, on the 
 issue, other purposes than those which simply affect himself! 
 Let us suppose him at work, as he ought to be, and leave him 
 for the present to his secret operations. 
 
 What visiter does Inglehardt expect ? Whom does he de 
 sire to delude with an appearance of apathy, which is so totally 
 untrue to what he has done, and what he contemplates doing, 
 that day 1 He contemplates another meeting, and trial of wits, 
 with Travis, before those revelations are finally made which 
 shall strip both parties of the mask. 
 
 And what of Travis 1 He has risen from a sleepless conch 
 full of anxieties. He feels how much he also has at stake, in 
 the game which is to be played to-day. His night s reflections 
 nave tended greatly to inspire him with the anxieties which 
 oppressed Sinclair, and to make him feel the impending peril to 
 iris fortunes. He is somewhat touched too, by the reflection 
 that his selfishness has been exacting; and that, in itoiumg 
 
384 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Sinclair to the arrangements for the intervie v assigned for the 
 ifternoon, and under threatening circumstances, he has been 
 innecessarily tenacious of his own objects, to the great hazard 
 >f other parties. But a life of selfishness is not to be rebuked 
 11 a moment. He has been a hard and exacting man always; 
 ind he silences his self-reproaches, with the reflection that it is 
 too late now to amend his fault. That it is now impossible to 
 see Sinclair and make other arrangements. 
 
 But his reflections have made him grave ; and secretly they 
 have somewhat tended to the growth of a more trusting faith 
 and more generous impulses in his heart. Having eaten break 
 fast in silence, he orders his horse, and calls Bertha Travis into 
 his chamber. There he produces a little tin case which might 
 contain a dozen sheets of paper folded compactly. He holds it 
 in his hands for a short, space in silence, as if doubtful of his 
 purposes. Bertha gazes on him with anxiety. Travis was a 
 person of a hard nature, not easily moved to exhibit his emotion ; 
 still less was he given to show any despondency of spirit, even 
 in moments of reverse and disaster. The unusual depression of 
 mood under which he labored had arrested the anxious atten 
 tion of both his wife and daughter while he sat at table. This 
 depression was now so much more decided that the girl could 
 not forbear referring to it, and asking the reason. He answered 
 her : 
 
 " I am about to ride down to Orangeburg, where I trust, in 
 one hour, to finish all the business I shall ever have with Richard 
 Inglehardt and the British commissariat." 
 
 " I am so glad, father." 
 
 "Yet something depresses me, Bertha something like a 
 presentiment of evil. I must go. This is the day for my 
 monthly closing of accounts, and I must not be absent from my 
 post, lest it lead Inglehardt to suspicion. You know enough to 
 understand that he has cause of suspicion. You know him too 
 well, and his objects, not to understand that, with him, to suspect 
 is to watch, and follow, and if need be, strike. In brief, I am 
 not sure of my ground, and events, of the highest importance, 
 are ripening to-day, which, if successful, will relieve me of him 
 relieve me of many anxieties besides and relieve me of al] 
 future connection with the British army. As a matter of course, 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINE BLOWS AND BONDS. 385 
 
 my future hope must depend upon the success of the whigs. 
 It is due to myself, my child, to assure you that my present de 
 cision has been mainly taken because of your relations with 
 Major Sinclair. But for these, I should never, perhaps, until 
 too late, have had my eyes opened to the rights of the Ameri 
 can cause, and to its probable success. The desire to see you 
 happy, with a man whom I honor, as much as you love, has 
 unsealed my vision, and taught me better lessons of my country. 
 It is probable that Inglehardt, whom I have long baffled, is 
 partly the possessor of my secret policy. I would save you 
 from him, even if I should not save myself; for his is the very 
 soul of treachery, and, I may find myself in his grasp at the 
 very moment when I flatter myself I am wholly out of it. 
 Now, I wish you to pledge me solemnly, whatever shall happen 
 to me no matter what you hear no matter what my situa 
 tion, that you will never marry him /" 
 
 The girl smiled as she replied : 
 
 " Surely, my father, that needs no pledge no solemn prom 
 ise. I know no being whoso presence I so much loathe, as that 
 of Richard Inglehardt." 
 
 "I believe it I know it; and I know that, with a free 
 choice left you, there could be no danger that you would ever 
 place yourself in the power of so cold-blooded and selfish a tyrant. 
 But you may not be allowed a choice. There may be situa 
 tions in which you may be placed, in which you may deem it a 
 duty to sacrifice yourself for others sacrifice your own heart 
 for others ; for a father s life, for example." 
 
 " Oh ! surely, my dear father there is no danger which now 
 threatens you." 
 
 "No! perhaps not! Danger, no! None, at least, which 
 
 iocs or can do more than threaten. But who is secure who 
 
 can be secure at such a time as this, and in the present con 
 dition of the country ? Danger is all about us, more or less 
 threatening of aspect. We are between two fires. There are 
 two great combatants in the field, both insisting upon our alle 
 giance, both able to hurt, neither quite strong enough to protect 
 us. In such cases the wise man takes all the precautions that 
 he can, and with the best, still feels that his prospect ia every- 
 where clouded with uncertainty. We are in a perilou 
 
 s con- 
 7 
 
386 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 juncture now, and great events are pending, in which one of 
 the ships must gD down. Which? I have endeavored to steor 
 my way in safety, more with regard to my family than myself. 
 I have determined now upon a course which involves much 
 uncertainty ; a course which must make this man Inglehardt a 
 decided enemy." 
 
 " He is not your friend now." 
 
 " He is no man s friend ; but there s no strife between us ; 
 we are on terms ; but such only as belong to selfish objects. 
 He finds me useful would make me profitable aims at your 
 hand or, rather, at the fortune which he supposes you will 
 inherit. But I should writhe in my grave, Bertha, did I know 
 that he were the possessor of either." 
 
 " Never fear, dear father ! I loathe and detest him." 
 
 " Yet women have been compelled to marry the very object 
 of their loathing." 
 
 " Never shall the case be mine." 
 
 " Remember, Bertha, I hold this as your solemn pledge, as it 
 were above the grave. I shall expect you to keep it whatever 
 may happen. Whatever you hear if tidings are brought you 
 that I am in the hands of my enemy in chains threatened 
 with death a sudden and a shameful doom nay, should you 
 get a letter from my hand requiring you to wed with Richard 
 Inglehardt, as the price of my life and safety heed it not! 
 Be sure that it is a forgery, or that it has been wrung from me 
 by tortures which have left me incapable of a true thought, or 
 an honest desire." 
 
 " Oh ! my father, why conceive these fearful things ?" 
 
 " No matter ! You will heed and obey my present wishes. 
 You will cling to the -pledge you make me now. You will 
 never wed with Inglehardt. Nay, so soon as Sinclair asks 
 your hand, promise me to give it him. I could die cheerfully 
 to-morrow were I sure that you were his wife, and safe in the 
 honor of his name. Do I have your promise, Bertha ?" 
 
 " Dear father, it is easy to make it. My heart has long been 
 his his wholly." 
 
 " Enough ! It is your pledge to me at a moment, Bertha, 
 when I may be speaking to you from the grave." 
 
 " Do not entertain such gloomy thoughts." 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINE BLuWS AND BONDS. 387 
 
 " I am no longei a young man. I am engaged in perilous 
 enterprises. I ha/e fearful enemies. Even now I ride to 
 Orangeburg to meet with Inglehardt. His policy is not easily 
 fathomed. He feels that you hate him. He knows that I do. 
 If he suspects that I arn about to free myself utterly from his 
 control, it is difficult to say what he will not attempt." 
 
 " Why go, then ? why put yourself into his power 1 why i.ot 
 at once join Willie Sinclair, and let us all fly across the Santcc 
 now, this very day, this hour?" 
 
 " Easier said than done ! No ! I must see through this day 
 here, on the Edisto close it if possible at Holly-Dale. To 
 morrow but sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. Here 
 is a letter to Sinclair. Take it and this case. Should I fail to 
 be here when Sinclair arrives, give this letter and case into his 
 hands. He knows what to do with them. Your mother has 
 my instructions also. She will put everything into his hands 
 should I fail to appear at the appointed hour. Keep these 
 safely and secretly, and about you. Do not leave the house. 
 Say to Sinclair that I leave everything to him, and have here 
 given him the best proofs that I confide in the magnanimity of 
 the person he will bring with him, to procure for my family the 
 safety which I seek for them; and now, my child, one kiss 
 one embrace and leave me awhile with your mother." 
 
 The girl threw herself into his arms threw her arms 
 about his neck, and kissed and clung to him fondly. 
 
 " Where s Henry ?" he asked. " I have not seen him this 
 morning." 
 
 " He has gone on a mission for Willie. He went by daylight 
 this morning." 
 
 " Up or down ?" 
 
 "Up." 
 
 " Kiss him for me, Bertha. Love him well ! I would like 
 to have clasped the boy once more to my heart." 
 
 And strange sight to Bertha the big tear grew and glis 
 tened in the eye of the hard and otherwise selfish man. Hers 
 were streaming freely. Once more he kissed and embraced her 
 with a nervous fondness, then gently pushed her away. 
 
 "Now go and send your mother to me." 
 
 With a sudden impulse the girl once more threw her arms 
 
388 Tllh FORAYERS. 
 
 around lier father s neck, once more kissed him affectionately, 
 then, as if fearing to trust herself to speak, turned away sud 
 denly and left the chamber in silence. In a few minutes her 
 place was supplied by her mother. 
 
 The husband put his arms affectionately about his wife, drew 
 her to his bosom, and looked earnestly and tenderly in her face. 
 They had been wedded nearly thirty years : the alliance be 
 tween them had been one, which, in spite of his hard and selfish 
 nature, had been productive of a certain and equal degree of 
 felicity perhaps, in as great, as is ordinarily shared between 
 married people who indulge in no extravagant expectations 
 from life, or from human affections. She knew his frailties, but 
 lie had been faithful to her. He had been an indulgent hus 
 band and a kind father. His evil aspect had been usually 
 turned away from his household. 
 
 " Lucy," he said, " I will not distress you by a repetition of 
 our conference last night. You know the nature of the dangers 
 which I apprehend. You also know that I can not well avoid 
 to meet them. If I face them boldly, they may lose their char 
 acter of danger. If i skulk them, they become decidedly a 
 peril. But, no more of this. Anticipating the worst, I have 
 come to the conclusion that you must fly to the Santee, to my 
 sister, the moment that you discover that anything has hap 
 pened to me. Should I fail to return to-day, you must prepare 
 for immediate flight. Sinclair will see to the arrangements ; 
 at all events, see to hurrying away the negroes, under a proper 
 escort. We may trust to his honor. More : it is my wish that 
 his marriage with Bertha should take place if lie is willing 
 as soon as you can learn that I am in bonds or danger from 
 Inglehardt. Were I sure of this marriage, I should be better 
 reconciled to every danger. But I trust every thing to Sinclair s 
 honor and discretion. He has both in eminent degree. He is 
 generous and noble. His conduct has shamed mine, and I have 
 to deplore that its effect was too slowly felt to enable me to save 
 him the peril which now threatens both of us equally. The 
 stroke which places me at the foot of Inglehardt, will be one 
 which will descend at the same moment upon his head. Ay, 
 and upon the head of another, whose peril I tremble to think 
 anon. But Sinclair is forewarned, and, I trust, forearmed. At 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINE BLOWS AND BONDS. 389 
 
 all events, lie is vigilant a man of great precautions and, 1 
 din in hopes, of resources adequate to the present exigency. 
 There ! I have told you all that I now need to say. Remem 
 ber, you are not to delay in what you do, in the indulgence of 
 vain fears, or as vain anticipations, touching my fate. The mo 
 ment you find me missing, that very moment, if possible, carry 
 out my instructions. Send off the negroes, and fly yourself 
 with our children. In my letter to Sinclair, I have declared to 
 him my wish that he should marry Bertha, without delay, if the 
 proceeding conflicts with no earnest necessity or important pol 
 icy of his own. And now, my wife, we part ! God bless and 
 keep you safely, whatever fate may befall me !" 
 
 The stately, and we may say, the noble old lady was sensibly 
 touched. The present attitude of her husband ennobled him. 
 He was behaving generously far more than was his wont 
 far more than we can well conceive from the few facts which 
 we have arrayed in this narrative by which to illustrate his 
 character; generously, in a readiness to sacrifice himself for 
 his children, at a moment when he might possibly save himself, 
 by their sacrifice. His heart was not wholly the home of self 
 ish passions. 
 
 A brief twenty minutes, perhaps, were consumed in this in 
 terview between the father and mother, when he emerged, com 
 posed seemingly, from the chamber. A fond and lingering look 
 he cast about him over the fair fields and old groves of Holly- 
 Dale. The place never looked so beautiful before. It seemed 
 the very home of peace. Then he quietly mounted his horse, 
 and turned downward, for the road to Orangeburg. 
 
 He was gone from sight in a few moments ? and, sadly ap 
 prehensive for he had imparted his own presentiments to both 
 wife and daughter they watched together, for long and in 
 silence, over the route which he had taken. 
 
 He pursued his way to the village without interruption; pro 
 ceeded to his room at Baltezegar s, where he kept his office, and 
 where he destroyed his papers, such as ho did not think proper 
 to preserve. These he stuffed into his pockets. Of course, he 
 was private in his office when these duties were performed. 
 Soon he had visitors, and some that he knew were only spies. 
 He met them, and baffled their inquisition with a calm visage, 
 
390 
 
 TIIE FORAYERS. 
 
 and the resources of a cool brain and a ready mind. Ingle 
 hardt knew, meanwhile, of his arrival ; knew of his visitors j 
 guessed at his secret employments, and smiled at his progress. 
 He knew, too, that Travis would be with him in the course of 
 the morning an hour, perhaps, before he was prepared to re 
 turn to Holly-Dale. Inglehardt waited with the exemplary 
 patience, but vigilant eye of the spider, who, in his hole, sees 
 the fly circling or loitering about the distant meshes which he 
 has stretched around him, unsuspected, in all directions. 
 
 "Keep him in sight!" was his simple command to all his 
 agents. He, meanwhile, showed himself quite at ease; lan 
 guidly lounging in his oaken chair, in loose trousers, and a linen 
 morning-gown, his pipe well replenished, sending up occasion 
 al curling clouds; head thrown back, and heels upon the table. 
 His eternal snuff-box lay at hand, open, ready for use when 
 ever he should have a companion. He was thus habited, and 
 posed, when Travis sought him, which he did about twelve 
 o clock. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear captain, how are you ? And how is that ex 
 cellent lady Mrs. Travis and how is the fair creature of my 
 constant thought, your daughter ?" 
 
 This was said drawlingly, with a languid smile upon the 
 speaker s lips, and an air of the most perfect complacency. 
 
 "D d puppy!" was the self-spoken feeling of Travis, who 
 yet replied quietly as if totally unruffled : 
 
 " Pretty well ; a little oppressed in this hot weather." 
 " It is growing terrible. 1 can hardly endure it, I am 
 dreaming nightly of a siesta upon an iceberg. No breath of 
 air here last night. I am in the wrong chamber. I must cer 
 tainly see Bruce to-day, and get another room. A sleepless 
 night is followed by a drowsy day. I am not well awake this 
 morning have done nothing can do nothing. Yet, I have 
 enough to do. I ought to be stirring to see after that rebel, 
 Coulter. Yet, the very idea of marching in this hot sun is ter 
 rible. By the way, do you hear anything of the fellow 1" 
 "Not a syllable!" 
 
 " I fancy he has gone toward the Savannah. Yet I can 
 gather no intelligence. I must certainly be moving, yet dare 
 not with my awkward squad. I must get these ungainly fel- 
 
lows into something like military order, before I can hope U 
 make a successful dash with them. In a week, perhaps 
 
 Here he paused, and stirred his pipe and replenished it. 
 
 " He talks too freely; all at once," was the thought of Travis 
 u He means mischief." But he said nothing to this effect ; bare 
 ly asked after the news, and responded in sympathy to his com 
 panion s complaints about the weather ; and then, practising 
 after Inglehardt s subtle fashion, he added : 
 
 " I dread the thoughts of taking the sun homeward at my 
 usual hour, and shall probably stay till the cool of evening." 
 
 "Right!" said Inglehardt. "I shouldn t be persuaded to 
 that ride, on such a day as this, for a hundred guineas. 1 am 
 half dead with the heat in the shade here even, where you 
 see there is an eastern exposure. But what s the hour ?" 
 
 " Twelve by the sun !" 
 
 "Heavens! and I am hardly awake! and can t wake. You 
 see my deshabille. What is to be done ? It is impossible for 
 me to do anything till evening ; yet my ragged rascals ought 
 to be seen to." 
 
 " Where have you got them 1" 
 
 " Somewhere in the woods. I left it all to Fry. The little 
 rascal is a sort of salamander don t mind heat at all rather 
 loves it, I think. Last night, I found him dancing, with a 
 dozen women in the camp, to the music of the old fiddle of Cato 
 Cusack." 
 
 " Has that old African turned up again ?" 
 
 " Yes ! Heaven knows where he has been for the last six 
 months. But there he was last night, lively as ever, sitting 
 upon the end of a whiskey-barrel, and going the Black Joke 
 at race-horse speed, while Fry was leading off with the fattest 
 and yellowest sandlapper of a woman I ever saw. Where the 
 women came from, all of them, I can not guess ; but there they 
 were, merry as monkeys, if not quite so active, sweating away 
 their ill humors, in a motion that almost overcame me with 
 horror. I perspired at the very sight of their fury." 
 
 " I thought Fry too severe an orderly for such indulgences 
 in camp." 
 
 "He is strict enough on drill; but, as he says what s to 
 be dnue 7 Prill s over ; danger s distant ; we must keep the 
 
392 THE FOltAYEllS. 
 
 fellows in a good humor ! When I asked him where the wuinen 
 came from he answered, pertly enough, Why, captain, we 
 all think from heaven, since they make us so happy while they 
 stay ! Happy in a sweat and stew ; for I fairly felt myself 
 steamed to faintness in the spectacle. Faugh! I sweat with 
 the remernhrance. But the exercise was not a had one for the 
 troop. Let them complain of heat on duty if they dare! I did 
 not discourage them, but sent them the materials for a bowl of 
 punch, and left them happier than ever. Fry tells me, this 
 morning, that they kept it up all night. They are, of course, 
 lit for nothing to-day." 
 
 "Now," thought Travis, "this is all a lie a mere invention 
 meant to blind me. I don t believe a, word of it." 
 
 But he expressed himself very differently. 
 
 " Faith, it must have been a curious sight. Such a night too 
 Where the d 1 could these women have come from 1 Not the 
 village ?" 
 
 " No ! not that I know. They looked like nobody that I 
 had ever seen. Yet they seemed to know me. But foul weather 
 brings out very strange birds. You say it s twelve ?" 
 
 "Yes ! it was just twelve when I came." 
 
 " Let us have some punch, Travis. Nothing like rum punch 
 for hot weather. Come, you do the thing better than I. You 
 have the knack of it. Make a good stoup for us both. I would 
 drink anything which would put a little more life into me. I 
 have no more energy in such weather as this, than a snake in 
 December." 
 
 Travis made the punch, and drank but he observed that 
 the other only tasted the beverage, for which he had expressed 
 so much unctuous appetite, and set it down beside him. He 
 took snuff in preference, and there was a pause in the conver 
 sation. At length, Inglehardt said : " Well, Travis, when am 
 I to visit Holly-Dale ? Shall it be to-morrow ?" 
 
 " As you please." 
 
 " You have broached our suit to the fair Bertha ?" 
 
 < Yes." 
 
 And she does not frown ?" 
 
 " I trust that Bertha will show herself submissive to her 
 father s wishes." 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINE BLOWS AND BONDS. o93 
 
 " If not genial to mine ! Well, I must be content. Sht> 
 knows me not. She will tliink better of me with better ac 
 quaintance, and, after marriage. I make no question that love 
 will come in to the support of duty. To-morrow then, Travis, 
 I may hope to see her. She will then receive me. Meanwhile, 
 my dear good father-in-law, that is to be, make the way as 
 clear as possible. Of course, you have suffered her to under 
 stand the necessity of this union ?" 
 
 She is fully informed, Inglehardt, of my wishes." 
 
 "Ah ! and she does not fly out does not wear the sullens; 
 She smiles, I hope." 
 
 " All I can say is, Inglehardt, that the dear child will prove 
 submissive to my will. I can not promise you her heart. I do 
 not deceive you, no more than she seeks to deceive me, that she 
 would prefer another. But enough, if I repeat that she will 
 yield herself to what I require." 
 
 " To-morrow then ! To-morrow!" and, with the slightest 
 smile upon his features, Inglehardt fed his nostrils from the 
 snuff-box. 
 
 Travis rose to depart. 
 
 " What ! Whither would you go, and at this hour ? not to 
 Holly-Dale surely. Why, man, you will drop upon the road." 
 
 " No ! I think I shall order my dinner at Baltezegar s at 
 three. It is too hot for riding. Besides, I have some matters 
 to settle at my office, which will keep me to that hour. It will 
 suffice if I reach Holly-Dale by dark." 
 
 " You are wise ! A hundred guineas should not tempt me to 
 take the road a-t this hour." 
 
 And, with some more talk, in which each sought to mystify 
 the other, they separated. 
 
 " Cunning scoundrel !" muttered Inglehardt, as the other left 
 the house "he fancies that he blinds me. But I shall have 
 eyes on him at every turning." 
 
 Travis, meanwhile, took his way to Baltezegar s. 
 
 " Jack," said he, " let me have a dinner here at three o clock 
 dinner for two, remember." 
 
 That he had given this order, reached Inglehardt hi twenty 
 minutes after. 
 
 " Dinner for two, and at three o clock. Who can the other 
 
 17* 
 
394 THE FORAYEKS. 
 
 be ? Can he be serious ? His game may be a deeper one than 
 I suspect. At all events, it shall not change my plans. He is 
 secure, whether he goes home, or stays here. This day shall 
 unmask his batteries as well as mine. The scheme shall stand 
 as it is. Travis may dine here, yet Sinclair, not the less, dino 
 nt Hollydale. I shall have him there, whether Travis stays or 
 goes. Have him !" 
 
 And the heretofore languid speaker, to whom the weather 
 had been so oppressive who would not take the road at that 
 hour for the world, proceeded to gird himself up for action. 
 Having dressed himself for the saddle, he stole out of the house, 
 by the back-door, into the yard, and made his way to the stables. 
 There he met one of his rangers, as if awaiting him. 
 
 " Have my orders been obeyed, Elias ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir; the men are all gone with Sergeant Fry. None 
 remain, sir, but myself and Witsell, as you bade." 
 
 " Good ! Has my horse been taken into the swamp opp - 
 site ?" 
 
 " Witsell has him there, sir, with his own and mine." 
 
 " Is the boat ready?" 
 
 " Ready, sir hidden among the bushes above the bridge." 
 
 " Do not leave this place then, till you hear from me." 
 
 Meanwhile, Travis chatted with Jack Baltezegar on indif 
 ferent affairs, or such as seemed to be so to the honest landlord. 
 
 " Inglehardt has picked up a clever troop, he tells me." 
 
 " I reckon over thirty men, and pretty clever fellows some 
 of em." 
 
 "They must have had rare doings at the camp last night- 
 dancing till daylight. But where did all the women come 
 from ? Are the girls of the village in the habit of dancing in 
 a ranger s camp, all night ?" 
 
 " What ! our girls ! Never a one of em. It s not easy to 
 get em there even in broad daylight, and when they re a dril 
 ling. But what camp are you speaking of?" 
 
 " Inglehardt s." 
 
 " Where is it 1 He s moved his troop off into the swamp 
 more than two days. Except Fry, the orderly, Lias Barnett 
 and Tom Witsell, and, perhaps, a small scouting party that 
 came in bv day-peep this morning, he s got nobody here." 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINE ^LOWS AND BONDS. 395 
 
 " Isn t that imprudent now that Coulter s about ?" 
 
 " Well, there s no saying what s imprudent, or what is not, 
 with Cap n Iiigleliardt, he s so knowing. But it s hard to catch 
 him napping, and if Coulter should make a dash at the village, 
 I reckon twould he through amhush that s set for him. It s 
 hard to catch such an old weasel asleep." 
 
 Travis picked up some other items, all .t which tended to 
 confirm him in the opinion that Inglehardt was subtly working 
 against him, and that the sooner he should take his departure 
 the better. But this required some nicety of management. 
 Repeating his directions to Baltczegar, touching the dinner at 
 three, he jumped on his horse, and rode up to the jail, where 
 there were some Irish prisoners in safe-keeping, charged with 
 mutiny and strong drink, and for whom he had been required 
 to furnish clothing. He saw the jailer, and spoke with him 
 awhile, then rode off, rounded the jail, and got into the cover 
 of the woods on the south, whence he moved round, making a 
 complete circuit, mostly under cover, of fence, house and 
 thicket, till he found himself in the swamp below the bridge. 
 Hence he felt his way up, still in the swamp thicket, till the 
 bridge was reached, when, looking out carefully in the direction 
 of the village, and the coast seeming to be clear, he boldly 
 emerged from his shelter, crossed the bridge, and dashed up 
 ward in a canter, which soon left his enemies all of whom he 
 knew in the rear. 
 
 But ten minutes after he disappeared from sight, Richard 
 Inglehardt, in the uniform of his troop, sword at his side and 
 pistols in his holsters, emerged from the thicket accompanied by 
 two troopers. 
 
 He smiled pleasantly as he said : 
 
 " We may walk our horses for a while, men, and leave our 
 friend to make use of all his advantages." 
 
 And they took the way upward in the direction of Holly-Dale, 
 though the trooperu knew not whither they were going, or what 
 they had to do. Inglehardt made|no unnecessary revelations of 
 his purpose. 
 
 Meanwhile Travis sped on without interruption. He was, 
 however, too old a stager to be guilty of the boy-folly of halloo 
 ing before he had quite cleared the bush. He knew his enemy, 
 
396 THE PORAYEBS. 
 
 and knew that the very languor of Inglehardt was an omen oi 
 ill that his smile was a danger that all his horrors of heat 
 and exertion were mere affectations, and he believed frauds-- 
 active employment had somewhat lessened the presentiments 
 of Travis, hut had not wholly dissipated them, and though he 
 rode on for three miles without seeing a human being, he was 
 yet by no means surprised or confounded when, at that distance 
 from the village, he found his horse s bridle suddenly seized by 
 a sturdy fellow, who leaped out of the copse, at a short turn of 
 the road, and forced the steed back upon his haunches. 
 
 " Light, cappin," said the voice of the stranger "we wants 
 you!" 
 
 Travis answered with a bullet. His hand was firm, his blood 
 prompt, and at the first bound of the assailant, he had drawn a 
 pistol from his pocket, and fired full at the fellow s head. 
 
 " Giinini !" cried the ruffian, " he s cut off my ear !" 
 
 At the same instant, and before Travis could draw another 
 pistol, a blow from behind, with a heavy bludgeon, from a third 
 hand, tumbled him from his horse. For a few moments he lay 
 insensible. When he recovered, he found himself in the deepest 
 thicket, his hands and feet bound firmly, his pockets rifled of 
 all his papers, and two men whom he did not recognise standing 
 over him. Before he could quite recover himself, to ask the 
 reason of the outrage, Inglehardt and his two followers rode 
 into the thicket. The eyes of the loyalist captain and 1 ravis 
 met. Neither spoke. A sweet smile was upon the face of the 
 former. The latter felt too surely the impotence of his anger 
 to allow it to appear in his features. He simply met the gaze 
 of his enemy with an immovable countenance. 
 
 "Dinner for two at Baltezegar s, Captain Travis why are 
 you here ? But your companion will wait. I will report at 
 Holly-Bale your engagements for the day. Should I meet 
 Major Willie Sinclair, I shall be most happy to send him on to 
 you. You will find the ride back a warm one. Good morning, 
 Captain Travis, good morning." 
 
 Travis could only look at his enemy the vindictive- hate 
 which he felt. How he longed for the fabulous power of the 
 M>,("!usnn head that he might look his bantcrer into stone. The 
 loyalist captain smiled complacently in rop]} to the vonouuni* 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINES BLOWS AND BONDS. 397 
 
 glance of his captive. Ere he rode away, he called Dick of 
 Tophet, and Branson, the Trailer, aside, and said : 
 
 " If you have time for it, before the men can wind their way 
 up, then see that Captain Travis is carried down to Green Bay 
 thicket, and hidden away there till our return. That is the 
 place of rendezvous, remember. But, if time should not serve, 
 leave him here, tied securely and in cover. You need not be 
 careful to turn his eyes up to the sun. Let him lie at ease. 
 You are not to forget the more important commission which I 
 have given you. You are not to engage in any occupation but 
 the one. While I see to the securing of Sinclair, you contrive 
 to carry oft* the girl. That is the one duty which I assign you. 
 Neglect it for no other And see that you do it tenderly. 
 Harm her, by word or act, and you hang for it ! Beware too 
 how your fingers incline to plunder. You will do nothing of 
 that sort. I will see that your reward hereafter shall compen 
 sate your forbearance, which I well know will be the most 
 painful trial of your virtues." 
 
 " Vartues don t bother us much, cappin," answered Dick with 
 a grin. 
 
 " See that your vices are not more troublesome. Beware, 
 how you offend me now. Your own safety depends on your 
 good behavior to-day." 
 
 " Good behavior, cappin ! that s to-say, ef we does jest 
 what you wants us to do." 
 
 " Certainly ! your good behavior lies only in your obedience 
 to orders." 
 
 " We re to catch and carry off the gal, while you re busy 
 with the major " 
 
 " Yes, and to trouble yourself with nothing else to be di- 
 rerted by nothing from the one duty. Treat her respectfully, 
 use no ill language in her ears; and, beyond the degree of vio 
 lence necessary for carrying her off safely, see that you do not 
 harm her. Remember that ! But see that she does not escape 
 you ! Your life upon it, my good fellows ; and if you succeed, 
 look to me for ample rewards." 
 
 With these words he rode away, moving still upward, and 
 keeping close in the cover of the woods, on a line equi-distant 
 from the high-road and he river. The two ruffians remained 
 
398 THE FORA YERS. 
 
 for a wliilo. after lie was gone, but without offering to carry 
 Travis down to the Green Bay thicket, which had been do 
 clared the place of rendezvous. They contented themselves 
 with seeing that he was securely roped, and with searching his 
 pockets even ripping up his saddle, in their thirst for plunder, 
 and possessing themselves of the money he had about him, not 
 overlooking his watch, knife, and other trifles. All these were 
 safely disposed of and out of sight. His papers were opened, 
 and scattered about the woods. Dick of Tophet found himself 
 a gainer by a forced swap of horses with his captive, coolly ap 
 propriating that of Travis, and fastening the poor hackney of 
 Pete Blodgit in its place, to a neighboring tree. 
 
 " Kin we carry him down, Dick, to the bay ?" demanded the 
 Trailer. 
 
 " Hain t got the time. All the time we ve got, I wants you 
 to put upon my ear. The bloody bullet of this varmint lies 
 gi n me such a mark as will last for ever." 
 
 The Trailer proceeded to examine the injury, and employ 
 some rude surgery upon it; Travis being permitted to see the 
 process where he lay ; the fierce glance of Dick of Tophet every 
 now and then, at every twinge of the wound under Branson s 
 fingers, speaking daggers to the captive, which the occasional 
 comments of the Trailer were not calculated to disarm. 
 
 " Twas a mighty close graze, Dick," quoth the Trailer, to 
 his hurt comrade, " as good a hole as ever a sharp knife worked 
 in a sow s ear ! And as you say, it s marked you for life ! 
 You ll have to put a gould ring in it." 
 
 " I ll wring his bloody neck for him, afore he gits out of the 
 vood ; but make haste or we ll be too late for the scrimmage." 
 
 " Kin we leave him whar he is ?" 
 
 "Why not? He kaint stir a peg, and if he should whoop 
 who s to hear him 1 We ll find him hyar, I reckon, safe enough, 
 when we gits back. Look you, you mischievous, bloody, pistol- 
 shooting d d old skunk of a rebel, do you see that you lies 
 close, and without kicking. I m a guine up now to captivate 
 your wife and da ghter, and all the combustibles of your plan 
 tation ; and before I m done with them and you, I ll find satis 
 faction enough to stop up this bloody hole that you ve made 
 hyar etarnally in my ear. Oh! I ll never forgit you for it. 
 
SMILES AND SUNSHINE BLOWS AND BONDS. 39? 
 
 as long as I can bite or kick, or as long as you ve g( t the 
 flesh for feeling a sharp wiper s tooth a-mee+ing in you ! I ll 
 hev it out of you, in every way, you see. ^yid I ll make you 
 feel it first through wife and da ghter. And you may think 
 about what s a-going on at home, with my help, and others, 
 while you re hyar, tied neck and heels, and without the arms 
 to keep off the meanest varmints in the woods." 
 
 We abridge the blackguardism and the denunciations of the 
 ruffian, who soon after rode away with his companion, leaving 
 Travis to utter solitude, fast-fettered, with scarcely freedom of 
 limb enough to avert his eyes from the glare of the sun, without 
 hope of defence, help, or extrication. What were his reflec 
 tions ? Not altogether selfish. He was humbled, hopeless, in 
 pain, in danger, but, if he thought of his own situation, it was to 
 lament his incapacity to strike for the defence of his wife and 
 daughter. The shocking speech of the ruffian had filled his soul 
 svith terrors had taught him what to fear. The hot scalding 
 tears rolled from his eyes, with the sense of his dreary impotence. 
 
 "Good God!" exclaimed the wretched man "what is to 
 become of Bertha my child my child in the power of this 
 infernal tyrant ! And Sinclair too, and the groat man whom I 
 would bring into this snare ! But I thought I had all sure. I 
 took every precaution. Oh ! that I were free, if it were only 
 to strike one blow at the head of that arch-villain !" 
 
 But why listen to his unavailing regrets ? Our anxieties re 
 quire that we should fly to Holly-Dale, even as his thoughts fly 
 thither, and witness for ourselves those events which, with to 
 much horror, he anticipat 38. 
 
400 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 HOW THE GAME MAY BE SNARED AT THE COST OF THE HUNTER. 
 
 A LITTLE before three o clock, Major Sinclair crossed the 
 river in the dug-out, having with him a single companion. 
 Having secured the boat under the usual cover, the shady 
 willows that overhung the stream on the edge of the swamp 
 above the headland of Holly-Dale, the two took their course 
 through the thickets until they drew near the dwelling. This 
 they soon approached and entered from the rear, having watch 
 ed their moment when the coast seemed quite clear, and kept 
 themselves under cover of the foliage as long as it sufficed for 
 concealment. They entered the hall which opened from the 
 passage-way, and found themselves alone. It was the dining- 
 room also, and the table was spread, but no person of the family 
 was present. The ladies were in the chamber of Mrs. Travi.s, 
 an apartment opposite the hall, and opening in like manner 
 from the passage. 
 
 Leaving his companion in the hall, Sinclair stepped into the 
 passage, and had hardly done so when he was met by Bevtlm. 
 The countenance of the damsel was full of anxiety. 
 
 " Have you seen my father, Willie ?" 
 
 " No ! Is he not here ? we are but just landed from the 
 river. He was to meet us here at three. It is not quite the 
 hour." 
 
 " He is not here," answered Bertha, striving to conceal her 
 uneasiness ; " but I hope he will be back in season. He had to 
 go down to Orangeburg this morning and and he seemed 
 very much troubled very uneasy. Oh ! if anything has hap 
 pened to him/ 
 
 "Don t be alarmed. What should happen to him?" 
 
 i don t know. But. he himself was apprehensive, and gave 
 
HOW THE GAME WAS SNARED. 401 
 
 me some commissions to you, some papers here they are 
 in the event of anything happening to prevent his presence." 
 
 "Ah ! the papers ! a moment, dear Bertha," as he took the 
 papers and read the letter to himself. 
 
 Now excuse me for a moment. These papers are for an 
 other, and the sooner he has them, and examines them, the 
 better. These will set everything right set your father fairly 
 before the country, and make his future course free. One mo 
 ment, dear." 
 
 " Come back to me. Mother wants to see and speak with you 
 in her chamber." 
 
 Sinclair hurried into the hall, and, with a few words, delivered 
 the papers into the hands of his companion. That person was 
 soon seated and busied in their examination. Meanwhile, Sin 
 clair returned to Bertha, and accompanied her to the chamber 
 where Mrs. Travis awaited them. 
 
 He found that good lady calm but very serious. 
 
 " Sinclair," said she, " I fear something has happened to 
 Captain Travis." 
 
 " I hope not. Why should you fear ?" 
 
 " He has failed to be back at the hour he appointed. I know 
 that he was anxious to be here. He had apprehensions, too, 
 and Inglehardt is as treacherous as a friend as he is venomous 
 as a foe." 
 
 " I do not see that there is any occasion for alarm. Ingle 
 hardt has every reason to keep on terms with your husband." 
 
 "Yes, so long as my husband will keep on terms with him. 
 But you know, as well as I do, that Mr. Travis had determined 
 to break with him." 
 
 " But how should Inglehardt know that ?" 
 
 " It is possible. He is all cunning. Besides, he has his spies 
 everywhere, and Mr. Travis mentioned that he had certainly 
 made one discovery of which you know which would cer 
 tainly make him suspicious." 
 
 " That is true ! But unless he has discovered much more, 
 the only present result of that discovery must be to make him 
 more watchful." 
 
 " And, no doubt, he has been so ; and to what other discov 
 eries this watch may have conducted h oi is the question. It 
 
402 THE FORAYERS. . 
 
 certainly looks suspicious, that, anxious as Mr. Travis was to 
 get back in time to meet yourself and friend, and resolving to 
 do so, he should fail just at this juncture, when his enemy is 
 most suspicious, most watchful, and has most reason to be so. 
 Mr. Travis is usually punctual to his word." 
 
 "And yet, my dear Mrs. Travis, a thousand motives, nay 
 necessities, not involving danger so much as duty and a proper 
 caution, may have delayed him. He had to put away and to 
 destroy his papers, had to settle many interests, and small 
 details before leaving Orangeburg had to secure property 
 for, you are no doubt aware, that our present relations involved 
 his withdrawal from all affinities with the British. The very 
 fact that he left these papers with Bertha, to be delivered to 
 me in the event of his not coming, showed that he himself an 
 ticipated some unavoidable delay, as a probability." 
 
 " Ah ! Sinclair, he anticipated something more. He was 
 very much depressed, and his mind labored with some gloomy 
 presentiments." 
 
 " And well he might entertain some forebodings. His rela 
 tions naturally involve the idea of embarrassment and danger. 
 But I see not 
 
 Here Bertha interposed : 
 
 "Willie, I heard a horse horses I m sure. Had you not 
 better go, you and your friend, while you have time ? Should 
 anything have happened to my father, there s danger to you." 
 
 " She is right, Willie. Go ! You have the papers i You 
 will see that justice is done to my husband s object." 
 
 " If Mr. Travis has fallen into Inglehardt s clutches, it is too 
 late to steal away," said Sinclair. " If he has arrested Mr. 
 Travis, be sure that he has environed Holly-Dale with his 
 rangers." 
 
 "Heavens! Willie, and you speak so coolly!" exclaimed 
 Bertha. 
 
 " Fear nothing ! I have striven to prepare for this con 
 tingency, and believe that I am ready. Henry is no doubt on 
 his way, bringing down the troop of St. Julien, and I have 
 despatched a trusty messenger to Coulter to bring up his troop 
 also. They have full instructions in regard to every step that 
 Is to be taken. If Inglchardt is really about us, with hii 
 
HOW THE GAME WAS SNARED. 403 
 
 rangers, he has got himself into a snare. From the moment 
 when I conceived the possibility of his seeking me here, I 
 resolved that he shouL. find me, and find me prepared for him. 
 I have endeavored po to provide as to crush him at a blow. 
 Let St. Juli en and Coulter reach us in season, and we have the 
 scoundrel in his own meshes. We need but half an hour now." 
 
 " Ah !" there were steps without " you will not be allowed 
 that half hour. There i certainly a tramp of horses, and 
 the door opens." 
 
 So it did the door of the passage then a footstep was 
 heard, a light deliberate footstep, the tread measured and 
 the person entering was heard to pass into the hall. 
 
 Sinclair, with moccasined feet, stepped noiselessly to the win- 
 low which looked out upc n the court fronting the west. He 
 came back with a slight smile upon his lip.i, and in a whisper 
 
 " You are right. There are troopers on the edge of the wood. 
 Can you find your way to the upper story, Bertha, without 
 being heard from the hall ?" 
 
 " Yes ! I think so." 
 
 " Go, then, and look up the northwest avenue, note the great 
 red oak that stands out in the centre of it, and if you discover 
 a- white handkerchief, or anything white gleaming from the 
 boughs, sing cheerily some verse of one of your little musical 
 ballads, so that I shall hear." 
 
 All this was said in a whisper. Bertha stole out into the 
 passage and up the stairway, without waking a single echo. 
 
 Voices were heard in the hall. Sinclair stole to the door and 
 listened. He returned in a moment. 
 
 " Do you think, my dear Mrs. Travis, that you can follow 
 successfully the example of Bertha, and steal up-stairs without 
 being heard ?" 
 
 Alas ! good Mrs. Travis was a lady of dimensions and bulk. 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Well," said he, " bide your time, and on the first sound of 
 struggle or confusion, make your way up-stairs to Bertha, and 
 fasten yourselves in. Leave this fellow to me." 
 
 " Who is it, Willie T 
 
 " Inglehardt himself." 
 
 " Ah ! and you take it so easily." 
 
404 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Yes ! I liope to take him easily." 
 
 And Sinclair again stole to the door, stole into the passage 
 and listened. The old lady could hear the voices from the hall, 
 which were earnest but not loud. In a moment, Sinclair was 
 back, and without a word, he snatched up a light coverlet 
 from the bed, and again disappeared from the apartment. Mrs. 
 Travis wondered what he should want with such an agent 
 dealing with such an enemy, and while she wonders, and while 
 the event is doubtful, let us retrace our steps a moment to some 
 of the antecedents of the affair. 
 
 Not a quarter of an hour before this, Inglehardt, accom 
 panied by a single trooper, Fry, his orderly, might have been 
 seen in a little thicket crouching behind the dairy. Hither his 
 whistle had summoned a young mulatto, a boy of eighteen, to 
 his presence. This fellow, a servant of Travis, had been long 
 in the pay of Inglehardt. 
 
 " Well, Julius, has he come ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; he s in the hall now, a-reading papers." 
 
 " When did he come ?" 
 
 " I don t know, sir ; I was busy cleaning knife behind the 
 kitchen, and old Molly, the cook, sir you know old Molly 
 she s mighty hard pon me " 
 
 " No matter about old Molly." 
 
 " Well, sir, she was a-moving about, and keeping me at the 
 knives, sir, and I never see when the major come. But when 
 I gone up-stairs with the knife-box, to put em on the table in 
 the piazza, I cotch a sight of em in the hall, sir, a-setting at 
 the table with papers, a-reading. The room was dark, the 
 winders most shut in, cause of the hot weather." 
 
 " Well, well ! he is there ?" 
 
 " Safe !" 
 
 "Nobody else no troopers?" 
 
 " Never see the huff [hoof] of one, sir, cept what you fotch." 
 
 " You hear, Fry. Now, work round the house with the troop, 
 and push in when you hear my bugle, but not a moment before. 
 
 " Where are you going, sir ?" 
 
 " To the house." 
 
 "What if he makes fight? Sinclair is a powerful, strong 
 
HOW THE GAME WAS SNARED. 40 
 
 The other touched the pistols in his belt. 
 
 "I shall be able to manage him with these at all events, 
 keep him at a distance with them till you can answer my 
 bugle." 
 
 " Very well, sir as you please. But we had better mak 
 short work of it, sir at a dash." 
 
 " No ! I have another object. Besides, we have him sure. 
 With thirty troopers upon him, he can neither fight nor fly with 
 any hope of safety. Away, now, and be in readiness." 
 
 The orderly disappeared behind the bushes. 
 
 "Julius, was your young mistress with him?" 
 
 " Not when I look, sir. She been up-stairs in he room I 
 reckon. But I spec [expect] she s down with em now, onless 
 he gone up to her." 
 
 " Why, scoundrel, you don t mean to say that he goes up to 
 her chamber ?" 
 
 " Don t know, sir; but they s mighty loving, when they gits 
 cogether," and the mulatto grinned his own vicious nature as he 
 spoke. Inglehardt looked at him with an expression of disgust. 
 
 " Mighty loving, are they ?" 
 
 " Oh ! there s no saying how sweet they is to one another." 
 
 " We shall dash the sweet with bitter. Go, now, and let me 
 .see you where I told you, and when." 
 
 The boy disappeared. Inglehardt lingered, as if in thought, 
 though looking around him as if in expectation also. Sudden 
 ly the bushes parted behind him, and the grim, disfigured vis 
 age of Dick of Tophet showed itself. 
 
 " Ah ! you are there 1 Well, see that you do your work 
 effectually ; and, hark you, Joel Andrews, no trespassing of 
 any sort." 
 
 The other grinned only in reply. Inglehardt found it neces 
 sary to rebuke the grin with a stern look and speech. 
 
 " Hark you, Dick ; closer here !" 
 
 The fellow drew nigh. Inglehardt, fixing his eyes upon him, 
 said, in the lowest and sweetest tones : 
 
 " If you disobey the slightest of my injunctions, Joel An 
 drews, you shall hang for it. Do you hear ? Look me in the 
 face, and comprehend, if you can, by what you see, that I have 
 sworn it! 
 
406 THE FORAYEBS. 
 
 " Oil ! cappin, what s the use of being oueasy 1 Don t I 
 know what to do 1 Jest you fix the major, and I ll save the 
 gal, and be as kearful as her own mammy. I ll wrap up my 
 paws in a silk Ingy, whenever I lays hands on her." 
 
 Inglehardt did not exactly relish the tone of his subordinate ; 
 but as for subduing such a ruffian to sober paces, whether of 
 soldiership or humanity, he well knew that the hope was out 
 of the question. He could only renew his injunctions as ear 
 nestly as possible, and in those sweet equable tones which all 
 who knew him well understood, were significant of his sternest 
 moods, and leave the event to the Fates. They were hurry 
 ing him onward. He had no more time to lose. 
 
 Waving his hand expressively to Dick of Tophet, and the 
 Trailer, who hung back in the bushes, his head just visible 
 above them, Inglehardt immediately stole away in the direc 
 tion of the dwelling, the approach to which prompted his re 
 flections to return to a channel which had been opened by the 
 salacious suggestions of the mulatto. The voice of Inglehardt 
 was half audible as he murmured, going forward somewhat 
 quickly : 
 
 " I shall surprise him in her arms, no doubt lipping it sweet 
 ly turtle-doves of Holly-Dale little dreaming of what awaits 
 them ! Ha ! well, it has been long delayed, but I shall enjoy 
 my triumph now. Him naught shall save ! and her father s 
 life hangs on her compliance ! Proud girl, I shall give you this 
 day a lesson teach you how to scorn the pretensions of Rich 
 ard Inglehardt!" 
 
 It was his footstep that Bertha heard in the piazza, his that 
 entered the passage the hall ! It was his voice that reached 
 the ears of the party assembled in the chambers of Mr. Travis. 
 We see what were his expectations, when he penetrated the 
 dwelling what and whom he expected to discover in the hall. 
 He was somewhat surprised to find a stranger not the rival 
 whom he sought. 
 
 The stranger sat alone, poring over a pile of written papers 
 Inglehardt did not immediately distinguish who he was. Be 
 held at some distance for the stranger was on the opposite 
 side of the long dining-table his features and person were 
 not clearly discernible in the doubtful light of the half-darkened 
 
HOW THE GAME WAS SNARED. 107 
 
 apartment; but a single glance sufficed to show that he was 
 not the person whom the intruder sought. He paused for a 
 moment, apparently at a loss. His own presence did not seem 
 to be suspected by the stranger, who appeared wholly absorbed 
 by his papers. He sat calm and grave, noting, with a pencil, 
 certain points in the manuscripts before him all of which 
 were now" emptied out of the case which had contained them, 
 when left by Travis; with certain additions from the pock 
 ets of their present possessor, they made quite a pile upon the 
 table. 
 
 The stranger was of noble appearance tall of person, well 
 formed, and of medium fullness and proportions, neither stout 
 nor slender. His head was broad and lofty, cheeks firm, chin 
 full, the jaws marked by breadth and significant of power. His 
 eyes were large and dark, eager and searching. His mouth, 
 well-defined, was habitually rigid of compression, giving an idea 
 of decision, promptness, and great resolution; tempered, how 
 ever, by the frankness and ingenuousness of an ardent tempera 
 ment, and a genius at once magnanimous and ambitious. His 
 hair, combed back, powdered, and tied behind, in the absurd 
 style common to the gentry of that period, contributed to the 
 full development of his features, and, perhaps, somewhat tended 
 to increase the general expression of sternness, almost of severi 
 ty, which was the one most natural to his aspect. He was 
 dressed in black, without uniform or ornament, in the fashiou 
 of the professional people of the time, with ruffles at wrist and 
 bosom, and a rapier at his side. This weapon, however, as he 
 sat at the table, was not perceptible to the intruder, who had 
 every opportunity for examining him. The stranger was too 
 much absorbed to note his presence, even to hear his footstep. 
 His mind was full, his imagination busy, his brow clouded with 
 thought, 
 
 After surveying him awhile in silence, the eye of Inglehard* 
 gradually becoming reconciled to the imperfect light, he smiled 
 with a grim satisfaction. He had been disappointed, seeking 
 for his rival, to find a stranger, but that stranger was no com 
 mon prey. Could he succeed in capturing him, his fortune was 
 made. The British commandant could deny him nothing 
 And was he not in his hands? 
 
408 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Inglehardt advanced. The stranger looked up. 
 
 " Ha ! well ! who are you, sir ?" 
 
 The loyalist captain did not exactly answer the question, ai 
 he replied : 
 
 "I know you, sir you are John Rutledge, the rebel-gov 
 ernor of this colony ! Sir, you are my prisoner !" 
 
 Rutledge laughed. 
 
 " Ha ! indeed ! my good sir, whoever you arc, you are a 
 blockhead. You neither know me nor yourself. If you 
 knew either of us, sir, you would know that 7 am not to be 
 made prisoner by you !" 
 
 Inglehardt s cheek flushed. He could feel the sentiment of 
 scorn. He, the son of the overseer and grazier, felt the sting 
 of the sarcasm from the born gentleman. But Inglehardt was 
 of wonderfully well-balanced temper. A sting never disquieted 
 him, or deranged his purposes, however much he might feel it. 
 
 " Your politeness, sir, will hardly suffice for your safety. I 
 am satisfied that you are the rebel Governor, Rutledge, and I 
 have the honor to be Richard Inglehardt, a poor captain of 
 loyal rangers. My duty to arrest you is fortunately seconded 
 by my power. I do not wish to sjied your blood. Will you 
 yield quietly, sir, where you can not resist with safety ?" 
 
 Rutledge rose, and with one hand proceeded to gather up his 
 papers, his eye still fixed on that of the loyalist captain. The 
 other drew a pistol from his pocket. 
 
 "Yield! you say? Yield!" 
 
 Ay, sir, it is your only hope of safety. A single blast of 
 this bugle fills the house with my rangers. They are even 
 now collected in the court." 
 
 " Yield ! why, my good fellow, do you not see that, as* the 
 rebel governor of this state, to yield to you is impossible ! 
 Were the whole army of Rawdon at hand I could not yield ! 
 Don t talk to me of yielding. John Rutledge a prisoner? no, 
 no ! Fall on, if it must be so ! The gown against the sword 
 for once. Cedant armtf toga ! I take my auguries from the 
 poet. He shall be nates for me in the present juncture." 
 
 "Your life shall be safe, sir," .said Inglehardt, "but resist 
 ance is impossible. Once more, I warn you. Yield, sir, and 
 \ie assured of good treatment." 
 
HOW THE GAME WAS SNARED. 409 
 
 "You have your answer !" said Rutledge, cocking his pistol, 
 and keeping his eye steadily upon him. 
 
 " Your blood be upon your own head !" answered Inglehardt, 
 raising the bugle to his lips. But, before he could wind it, 
 Sinclair had thrown the coverlet, taken from Mrs. Travis s bed, 
 over the head of the loyalist, enveloping head and shoulders 
 completely; and so suddenly and closely was it drawn, as to 
 prevent the shout with which he would have brought his 
 troopers into the house. The next moment, spite of all his 
 struggles, he was stretched out upon the floor, his head still 
 muffled. 
 
 " A cord, Mrs. Travis," cried Sinclair to the lady who made 
 her appearance at the door the next moment, and readily pro 
 cured and provided the required article. With knee upon the 
 breast of the loyalist, Sinclair slipped a knot about his arms 
 and feet, which put him completely hors-de-comlat, then lifting 
 him up, as if he were an infant, he bore him into the passage, 
 and thence down the inner steps into the basement, where he 
 laid him out gently upon the floor 
 
 Never was captive so. easily overcome so simply, so sud 
 denly, and so unexpectedly to himself. The process was the 
 only one The muffling of the head was the only means of 
 security. Could he have wound his bugle, or shouted, his 
 troopers would have rushed into the house instantly, and a few 
 moments only would have been required for the work of de 
 struction. An ordinary enemy, obeying an impulse, would 
 have knocked the loyalist down, or tried to do so; the ready 
 wit of Sinclair found it better to roll him up. This was most 
 effectually done, and the stifled cries of Inglehardt, with all his 
 efforts, could not have been audible without the apartment. 
 
 Scarcely had our major of dragoons succeeded in this opera 
 tion, and in conveying his captive to the basement, when he 
 heard the cheering voice of Bertha Travis, above-stairs, war 
 bling snatches of a popular song. He did not wait for more, 
 but, darting upward to the dining-room, he found Rutledge with 
 pistols ready, his papers put away in his bosom, and his rapier 
 drawn. 
 
 " Up-stairs now, governor, up-stairs if you please, with Mrs. 
 Travis, while 1 secure these doors as quietly as possible. We 
 
 IS 
 
410 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 need but twenty minutes of respite, and must peril nothing 
 from stray shot or sudden stroke. We shall gather up all these 
 rascals with a little patience." 
 
 Such were Sinclair s words commands. 
 
 Rutledge tendered his hand to the lady, in the style of one 
 of the courtiers of that day, and the two disappeared up-stairs. 
 Sinclair at once threw the bars into the staples, which secured 
 the entrances to the house, front and rear ; then, as the enemy 
 might enter the rooms at the windows from the piazzas, he 
 locked the two doors, opposite each other, which opened into the 
 passage, and hurried up-stairs also. Here, gliding to one of 
 the windows he looked out into the court, taking care not to 
 expose himself. 
 
 " Ay, there they are, awaiting the bugle blast of their cap 
 tain ! Well, they shall now have mine ;" and with the words, 
 our major of dragoons poured out a lively tira-la tira-la, thrice 
 from his bugle. There was then a rush below to enter ; and, 
 failing to get in the door, some of the troopers were soon heard 
 clambering in at the windows. 
 
 " It will cost them a few minutes," quoth Sinclair, " to break 
 down the inner door, and by that time they will have to turn 
 about for other customers. Ha ! do you hear that ?" 
 
 It was the distant blast of another bugle. 
 
 " In five minutes, St. Julien will be here ! But they may 
 $ive us work to do in that five minutes. Governor, with our 
 pistols, we must watch the stairs." 
 
THE MELEfi A CHARGE FLIGHT CAPTIVITY. 411 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE MELEE A CHARGE FLIGHT CAPTIVITY. 
 
 PROMPT at the summons, Rutledge, then the dictator of South 
 Carolina, to whom the state had intrusted the sovereign discre 
 tion implied in the words of his charter to "see that the 
 republic sustained no harm" followed the major of dragoons 
 to the post of danger with as little hesitation as the commonest 
 foot-soldier might have shown. Here, the soldier was in com 
 mand, and the sovereign was submissive. Both held themselves 
 in readiness, and their pistols too, at the head of the stairway ; 
 while the troopers of Inglehardt were striving to force their 
 entrance from the hall into the passage. 
 
 "An axe! Bring an axe!" was the shriek, rather than 
 speech, of one of them, appparently in command below. Had 
 either of the two above-stairs ever heard the voice of Ingle- 
 hardt s fierce little red-headed lieutenant, Fry, he would have 
 been at no loss in identifying the speaker. Anon was heard 
 
 " Stand away ! Let Crowell strike !" 
 
 And the blows resounded. 
 
 At this moment, Sinclair discovered Bertha at his elbow, 
 pale, but firm, and apparently taking position in the ranks, as 
 if in waiting for her share in the fray. 
 
 "Back!" cried he "Back, dearest you have no business 
 here ! Back to your chamber and keep wholly out of sight !" 
 
 The poor girl shrank away, thinking the speech the harshest 
 she had ever heard, or expected to hear, from the lips of her 
 lover. But it was no time for mammets. The tilt promised to 
 be any sort but that of loving lips. 
 
 The blows resounded more and more heavily below ; the 
 splinters were heard to fly from the door; and, after a few 
 ITP> strokes, a rending crash, and a shout, announced the 
 
412 THE FORAYBHS. 
 
 success of the assailants. The door was shattered, driven from 
 its hinges, and the troopers dashed into the passage. They 
 darted forward one, two, three ! headlong up the steps. 
 
 A shot ! the foremost is stricken down with a bullet through 
 the head ! He fell backward, balanced a moment, as it were, 
 revolving in air, then yielded, and rolled over, down between 
 the legs of his companions ! 
 
 There was a pause a check a sensation. Thus suddenly 
 to lose one man out of three or four is apt to cause uncomforta 
 ble feelings in the survivors. 
 
 " What ! do you stop when a man misses a step ? on with 
 you ! Don t you see he s only scared. Whoop ! up, boys ! 
 There s but a single man of them !" 
 
 So Fry! and up the troopers bounded once more two, 
 three, four ; Fry pressing behind them with sword and pistol. 
 
 Up and down flew the bullets a little wildly. Another 
 falls. Sinclair himself is grazed. He darts down with his 
 sabre ; smites right and left, and hurls one fellow over the ban 
 ister ! The space between the parties reduced, his powerful 
 size and strength, in that narrow passage, render him equal to 
 half a score. Besides, he is on the elevation. He strikes 
 downward, and this is an advantage. Fry, a brave little fel 
 low, confronts him, and his arm, the right arm, drops, hewn 
 clean off at the shoulder with a single sweep of the sabre. 
 
 "Oh, my God!" was his cry, "I m ruined for life!" and 
 he sank down, fainting, at the feet of his enemy, and rolled to 
 the bottom of the steps. 
 
 But two men now confronted our major of dragoons and 
 they shrank staggered back down the stairs, and jostled 
 each other, in the struggle, made with backward eyes, to regain 
 the door of the passage regain, their comrades. 
 
 Shouts within, and shouts without, confounded their senses. 
 Sinclair kept his ground, midway the stairnight. Rutledge had 
 reloaded the emptied pistols. He himself had discharged a 
 couple, and he now joined Sinclair with the ready weapons. 
 The latter would not suffer him to remain at the position which 
 he himself occupied. 
 
 " They are preparing for more deliberate operations, * said 
 lie " but deliberation is their death! Do you not hear the 
 
THE MELEE A CHARGE FLTGFIT CAPTIVITY. 413 
 
 bugles?" Suddenly tlicre is <i wild clninor without a shout 
 
 the merry and shrill clamor of the trumpets, and the heavy 
 clangor of the charging horse. 
 
 Sinclair rushed up for a moment, and gave a hurried glance, 
 through the half-opened window of one of the chambers, out 
 upon the avenue and court. He beheld the melee = a glance 
 was enough. He rushed down stairs, tore away the bar which 
 secured the outer door, and, waving his broadsword aloft, dart 
 ed out into the piazza, and down the steps shouting, at the 
 topmost pitch of his voice, as he came forth : 
 
 " Hurrah ! dragoons ! over em ! They are yours ! Feed 
 the sabre as they fly ! Into them ! Through em, my brave 
 fellows ! You are a match for fifty more such rascals !" 
 
 And well did the brave troopers second the encouragement 
 of the major of dragoons, and deserve it ! The squad of Ingle- 
 hardt, taken wholly by surprise, was already scattered. Some 
 darted into the woods below, others for the swamp. Their cap 
 tain nowhere to be seen their fierce little Ensign Fry, bleed 
 ing helplessly to death at the foot of the stairs in the dwelling 
 
 they were without a head, and the members were soon dis 
 persed and broken ; all but a group of ten or a dozen, who kept 
 together, and dashed into the upper avenue, relying on their 
 hoofs rather than their broadswords. 
 
 But the dragoons were soon upon their haunches. Sinclair 
 himself was now mounted, having seized upon a vacant saddle 
 
 a steed that, in his fright and confusion had actually thrust 
 his nose into one of the basement windows of the house. 
 
 The poor beast not a bad beast either was that of Fry. 
 Once astride this animal, the spurs of Sinclair soon brought him 
 to the right-about ; and he dashed forward with all his mettle, 
 now quite recovered, in pursuit of his flying associates. These, 
 hard pressed, wheeled about, and emptying their pistols full in 
 the face of their pursuers, but without doing much mischief, 
 they prepared for the encounter, pell-mell, with the slashing 
 broadsword. Presenting a good force, they completely covered 
 the narrow avenue in which they were overtaken. 
 
 "Charge !" cried Sinclair, with all the glad fury of the Hun, 
 raging with battle. But, even in that moment, a voice as loud, 
 and clearer than his ovn, tirade-red out, at his very side: 
 
414 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "Spare them, Sinclair! Remember, they are our country 
 men ! Let them accept mercy let them make submission ! 
 We will receive them into our ranks ! Submit, brave fellows, 
 it is better to live for your country, than to die for a foreign 
 tyrant ! Submit and save yourselves !" 
 
 It was the voice of Rutledge. He, too, had seized upon a 
 vagrant steed, and was now riding by Sinclair s side an 
 emptied pistol in his hand, no hat upon his head, his arm wav 
 ing wide, as was its wont when he thundered in speech and 
 his lofty person rising to the full majesty of the words which 
 he had spoken. 
 
 And the words were as magical as majestic. The loyalists 
 lowered their swords, and made the sign of submission, wheeled 
 into the rear of Sinclair s troop, and became good rebels after 
 a creditable fashion. 
 
 However strange the fact, the case was frequent. The wise 
 policy of Rutledge brought back hundreds to the ranks of the 
 country. He knew that the cause had not been well under 
 stood at first that many were beguiled by false counsellors 
 than many had been driven by injustice into the ranks of the 
 enemy, and that it needed only to take all such, at the happy 
 moment, to persuade, convince, or subsidize. The victory 
 was won. All but seven or eight of Inglehardt s followers 
 were to be counted upon the ground, or in captivity. The fu 
 gitives, dashing into the woods below, which it had been ar 
 ranged that Coulter s troop was to cover, had thus far succeeded 
 in making their escape. These were to be looked after at a 
 future moment. 
 
 Sinclair and Rutledge, with the troopers, now rode back to 
 the dwelling, where some time was spent necessarily in the in 
 spection of the field, in removing the dead from the house, and 
 purging it of its bloody testimonials. Here, it was found that 
 the fierce little Lieutenant Fry, had bled to death ; not an un 
 frequent event where such formidable wounds were given, and 
 in a service which, like that of our partisans, was attended by 
 but few surgeons. Fry was utterly lifeless when his body was 
 examined, but it was still warm. Two others were found slain 
 by pistol-shots three lay severely wounded in the court, and 
 one killed ; seven were slightly wounded, and within the 
 
THE MELEF -A CHARGE FLIGHT CAI TIVITT. 415 
 
 succor of the simplest surgery, and only some half-dozen of 
 the tory troop remained to be picked up or accounted for. 
 
 But where was their captain where Inglehardt, who had 
 been so securely corded, as it was thought, and muffled up in 
 the passage of the Lasement? When they came to look for 
 him, he was gone. Ho had evidently found assistance from 
 other hands than his own, and had escaped. He was nowhere 
 to be found. When, n little while after, the ladies were refer 
 red to, they knew nothing. They had heard noises below, but 
 had not ventured from the upper chambers, till Sinclair s reap 
 pearance in the court below had reassured them ; and even 
 then they had not descended to the lower story. 
 
 But we have source of information beyond theirs, by which 
 to account for the escape of the captain of loyalists. He had a 
 friend capable of succoring him, in one, who, though his crea 
 ture, was about the last creature in the world to whom he 
 should have looked for help in a moment of danger. But the 
 mouse can gnaw through the meshes of the lion, and Ingle- 
 hardt s mouser came to his aid at a happy moment. 
 
 It happened that, in the very moment when the conflict began, 
 Julius, the mulatto house-servant of Travis, trembling with 
 terror, had crept into one of the basement windows. Here, in 
 one of the darkest places, he crouched in an ague fit, and 
 remained unconscious of everything but the shouts, the shots, 
 the clang of sabres, and the rush of steeds without, until the 
 pursuit of the fugitives by our major of dragoons. Then, lie 
 recovered courage to look about him, but not yet to look out. 
 He heard a difficult breathing in the passage a rustling, rest- 
 lesr, motion and a feeble voice, half-stifled, crying, at moments, 
 for succor. It was some time before the mulatto dared approach 
 the object of his apprehension, and ascertain the fact, that the 
 prisoner, thus fettered, and half-smothered in the coverlet torn 
 from the bed of his mistress, and wrapped tolerably snugly 
 about his neck, and over his head, was the wily tory whom he 
 had so profitlessly served in this very expedition. With trem- 
 bling hands the mulatto cut the cords, tore off the bandage, 
 and released the prisoner. 
 
 A glance at the field, taken stealthily through the windows, 
 revealed to Inglehardt the whole plan of escape. The troopers 
 
416 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 were in pursuit. The negroes had all fled to hiding-places. 
 None but wounded, iying, or dead men were to be seen, and 
 it was just possible to steal out, unnoticed, to the swamp. 
 Thither, accordingly, he determined to fly ; and he made the 
 attempt in safety, taking Julius with him. He buried himself, 
 as soon as possible, up to the neck, among the thick reeds and 
 willows of the swamp. 
 
 Here, he could still, in some measure, be a witness of the 
 scene. He could hear the shouts of victory, the tramplings of 
 the horse, the blasts of the bugle, and then the regular trot of 
 the troop as it passed into the woods below ; and, finally, to his 
 great relief, down came the darkening shadows of night over 
 river and forest. Under her friendly shelter, Inglehardt stole 
 out from his hiding-place, making for the river, and designing 
 to swim across. But here he found the boat which Sinclair had 
 employed in his passage to and fro. He gladly availed himself 
 of the opportunity which it oflVed him, and, having made the 
 boy Julius first enter, he leaped in himself, and allowed the 
 little vessel to drop down stream. The navigation was not 
 intricate, and he knew it well ; and when he reached the mouth 
 of Four-mile Branch, he ran the dug-out in, pressed upward as 
 far as the waters would allow, and then put his little vessel in a 
 place of concealment near the banks, closely covered with a 
 matted thicket. 
 
 Here he felt himself tolerably safe. It was now quite dark, 
 though the night was clear and starlighted. He was now, he 
 knew, within half a mile of the lay thicket, whither he had or 
 dered Travis to be taken, and where he was to be kept, until he 
 should return from his enterprise against Sinclair at Holly -Dale. 
 He never anticipated his own return in his present condition ; 
 but, with usual and proper precaution, the same lay had been 
 appointed as the place of rendezvous for his troopers in case 
 they should be scattered in pursuit or flight. He could soon 
 reach this point, and everything was silent. That he did not 
 immediately attempt it was due to his exhaustion. He was 
 sore from his recent bonds, and wearied, not to speak of a tem 
 porary depression of spirits that was quite natural to his rever 
 ses. Once he thought of sounding his bugle, which was still 
 about his neck, but he prudently recollected that its summons 
 
THE MELEE A CHARGE FLIGHT CAPTIVITY. 41 
 
 might bring flown upon him far other visitors than those whom 
 he cared to entertain at present. He concluded to keep snugly 
 in his canoe for an hour, and then venture out to the place of 
 rendezvous. His present place of refuge was favorable to any 
 movement which he might desire to make, enabling him to 
 steal back again to Holly-Dale, should he see fit and this was 
 to depend wholly upon the number of fugitives which should 
 join him at, the "bay to return to Orangeburg, should the con 
 quering troop of Sinclair not take the same direction ; to put 
 himself across the river, or go still farther down the stream, 
 should the exigency of the case render it necessary that he 
 should increase the distance between himself and his enemy. 
 Inglehardt could meditate his plans coolly still, in spite of his 
 mortifications of flesh and spirit in spite of the defeat of his 
 objects, and the loss, now felt for the first time, of his pistols, 
 sword and snuff-box. His nose and it felt the privation 
 was unfed during the whole of his meditation. 
 
 Leaving him to brood above his paddles, and in waiting upon 
 Fate, we return to Holly-Dale. 
 
 While Inglehardt had thus been stealing off in security, Sin 
 clair had been busily engaged in reaping the field which he 
 had won, and arranging his plan of future operations. Much 
 had to be done, occupying considerable time, before he could re 
 join the ladies. Rutledge required him in consultation, ana 
 there was something to be understood in regard to the troop 
 with which the victory had been obtained, which taxed his con 
 sideration. This troop was not that of Coulter ; was, in fact, 
 only a detachment from that of Captain St. Julien, under the 
 command of Lieutenant Mazyck. St. Julien had been com 
 pelled to go, with one half of his force, in pursuit of a mixed 
 body of tories and black dragoons (negroes), which had been 
 reported as breaking cover somewhere on the Soui> Edisto ; 
 and thither had Coulter also gone with his company, ifore the 
 summons of Sinclair could reach him. Mazyck, accordingly, 
 had brought with him but twenty-five troopers ; but, when we 
 add to these, some thirteen of Inglehardt s squad raw fellows, 
 but docile, who had accepted Rutledge s offer of pardon for 
 past offences the thirty-eight, all told, made a body sufficient 
 ly strong for present purposes. 
 
 18* 
 
118 THE PORAYERS. 
 
 Jim Ballon had also come back, from his fruitless search after 
 Coulter, and Bram, the negro, had reacned the field in season 
 to dash in, after his master, and make his demonstrations in the 
 fight, when it promised to be fiercest. Under Sinclair s eye, 
 and seconding his charge, Bram had already shown that he 
 could be a fearful customer. He had some scruples about the 
 prudence and propriety of warfare, unless some dashing cava 
 lier of the white race put himself in the van of battle. 
 
 Having seer to his troopers, and ascertained the facts in his 
 situation, Sinclair prepared, accompanied by Rutledge, to re 
 visit the ladies, and relieve their anxieties. They re-entered 
 the house together, and while the dictator remained in the par 
 lor below, our major of dragoons ascended the stairs. He was 
 met midway by Bertha, whom he caught with a loving fierce 
 ness in his arms, pressing her lips with his own, before she 
 could apprehend his purpose, and extricate herself from his 
 grasp. 
 
 " All s safe, Bertha. We are the masters of the field." 
 Is all safe?" answered the girl, with anxiety and trembling 
 " Is all safe, Willie ? Where s TTcnry, n>v l)rotiier F 
 
 " Henry, yoar brother !" exclaimed Sinclair, staggered b} 
 the question, and at once reproaching himself for his seeming 
 forgetfulnt-ss of the noble boy. 
 
 " Is he not here ? Has he not "been with you ?" 
 
 "No ! no ! Good Heavens, Willie, what is become of him ? 
 Have you not seen him ?" 
 
 Yes, to be sure ; I saw him when I rode out to charge the 
 enemy up the avenue. I saw him, then, and heard him shout 
 ing, and thought he followed me, but, in the excitement of the 
 charge, I lost him ; and on my return, seeing no more of him, 
 I concluded he had joined his mother and yourself." 
 
 " Oh, Willie ! this is terrible ! What can have become of 
 him ? Go, dear Willie, go seek and find him, and come back 
 soon with him, for mother is in a wretched state of uneasiness 
 Hasten, Willie, while I go back and quiet her, with a hope 
 that you will find and bring him soon." 
 
 Sinclair at once dashed down the stairs, and, in a few word? 
 told Rntledge Ins new cause of anxiety, in which the sympa 
 thies of the lattci- wo,>- ^oeply interested. 
 
Thfc MELEE A CHARGE PLIGHT CAPTIVHT. 419 
 
 "But / must go, Sinclair, you are aware go at once ; I am 
 expected, and hope to meet General Greene to-night. Too 
 much depends apon mere moments now, to suffer me to delay, 
 even though to help in the search for this gallant boy." 
 
 " I know it, sir ; and, if you please, will despatch an escort 
 of ten men with you, under Lieutenant Mazyck, who will ac- 
 company you across the river, crossing at Shilling s, which is 
 the shortest rout to Herrisperger s, and going on with you to the 
 meeting with General Greene, if you require it." 
 
 " No ! no ! that will not be necessary. I have my two aids 
 waiting for me at Herrisperger s and they will suffice for escort 
 The road is pretty clear now. We know where Rawdon is on 
 the Congaree, and that Greene s detachment is even now in 
 advance of him. All s safe along my route, and I will send 
 your man back as soon as I reach Herrisperger s. You, mean 
 while, see after the boy, and join the army with all despatch. 
 We have active work for all our cavalry below." 
 
 " Touching Captain Travis, governor, and his petition ?" 
 It is granted. Here is the document which gives him in 
 demnity. His papers are valuable to us, and I do not question 
 his fidelity in future. His danger is now from the enemy. His 
 absence suggests the fear that Inglehardt has found him out, and 
 secured him in Orangeburg. Now is the time to dash into the 
 village, empty the jail, where they are said to have some score 
 or two of refractory Irish in limbo, and where Travis is prob 
 ably laid by the heels also. Be sure, while you are about this 
 business, to secure what remains of the commissariat in Orange- 
 burg. Get all the clothes and munitions that you can ; and, by 
 loading your troopers well, and moving promptly up the river, 
 you will be able to join us, before Rawdon can possibly make 
 his way across the country. You will probably find the Irish, 
 whom you emancipate, willing to take arms against their former 
 owners. If so, mount them, and bring them along behind your 
 troopers. Of course, you will search for the boy ; but beware 
 that you do not linger one hour too long. You must give up 
 the search, if it delays you over the next twenty-four hours. 
 However painful it may be to you, in your relations with this 
 very interesting family, to forego the search, you are neither to 
 peril your troop, nor embarrass c niv purposes in any fruitless 
 
420 TFF FORAYERS. 
 
 waste of time. If the boy is slain, which God forbid ! you will 
 find his body, no doubt, in yonder wood. If the fugitives have 
 borne him along with them, they will hardly ill-treat such a 
 child indeed, will hardly think it worth while to detain him." 
 
 " Ah ! sir, you know not this cold-blooded scoundrel Ingle- 
 liardt, or his objects. The father and son in his power, he will 
 hope to establish a fearful hold upon the family." 
 
 " But he is a fugitive, also." 
 
 " He has escaped, and flies, it is true ; but he has probably 
 caught the boy in his flight ; and, while we were pressing upon 
 the enemy up the avenue, has succeeded in carrying him off. 
 The father s wealth, the daughter s beauty, are both objects of 
 greedy desire with Inglehardt; and father and son in his 
 power, how terrible is the hold which he possesses upon the 
 mother and daughter!" 
 
 Sinclair readily conceived the policy of his enemy, from a 
 knowledge of his character. 
 
 " It, is a cruel prospect to survey, but, I trust, that you ex 
 aggerate its dangers. As a fugitive, and pressed by your troop 
 ers, Inglehardt s flight must be one of embarrassments, which 
 will probably compel him to cast off his prisoners, assuming 
 that he has them." 
 
 " He may brain them first," said Sinclair, with a shudder. 
 
 " Hardly, if his purpose be such as you indicate. No ! no ! 
 my dear fellow, look at the thing more cheerfully. Press the 
 pursuit; urge the hunt and search; be prompt and keen; be 
 quick ; do not lose time ; and, if you fail to find the boy and 
 his father, at least, your failure will be temporary. My life 
 upon it, Inglehardt will harm neither. His policy demands that 
 he should not." 
 
 " But should he give Travis up to Balfour or Rawdon, they 
 will hang him." 
 
 " He will hardly do that either, unless he finds his schemes 
 have been defeated. No ! no ! shake off your gloom, and go 
 to your duty. Send out your scouts at once, and scour all the 
 woods down to Orangeburg. Let us both away on our separate 
 duties at oncvi. Let me have your escort. The night is upon 
 us." 
 
 And the two parted, going several ways ; Rutledge, wW 
 
THE MLLEE A CHARGE FLIGHT CAPTIVITY. 421 
 
 Mazyck and his escort upward, a ad Sinclair with all but two 
 troopers, left to watch Holly-Dale, burying himself in the lower 
 woods, where, under direction of Ballon, the scout, some of the 
 men carrying torches, the whole command was so scattered as 
 to cover the width of the wood from the edge of the swamp to the 
 main road. Thus displayed, the troopers pushed down in equal 
 line, with regular pressure, and as rapidly as they might con 
 sistently with their purpose of close search along the route. 
 The lower swamp itself could not be penetrated on horseback, 
 or searched successfully by night, and Sinclair shook his head 
 sadly as he thought that the poor boy might, even then, be held 
 down, and half stifled, not a hundred yards distant, in some 
 one of its deep r3cesses. 
 
THE FORAYEBS 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 HOW HENkY TRAVIS FARED IN HIS FIRST BATTLE. 
 
 As a matter of course, before the attempt to search the woodti 
 was begun, a thorough inquiry was made among the troopers, 
 and a search of the grounds immediately about the house in 
 stituted, in order, if possible, to find some clues to the fate of the 
 boy. But no information Avas obtained which could be relied 
 on, or which was in any way valuable. He had been seen by 
 several persons, but only for a moment ; and when the excite 
 ment of the conflict was such that each had his own cause of 
 anxiety, his own work on hand, and when one impression in 
 stantly dispersed all traces of the preceding. His boyish eager 
 ness had been noted, his boyish shouts were remembered. But 
 it was surprising how completely he had been lost sight of by 
 everybody, in the moment when Sinclair himself lost sight of 
 him; the moment when the latter cliarged up the northwest 
 avenue, in the final assault upon the only party of the loyalists 
 who still showed am embodied front. We have seen the fortu 
 nate result of this charge, and need say no more on the subject. 
 When Sinclair first heard from Bertha that Henry had not ap 
 peared, a full hour had elapsed after the strife was over this 
 time being consumed in collecting the prisoners, attending to 
 the wounded, and making such dispositions as were called for 
 by the safety of the party, and in the consultation with Rut- 
 ledge. 
 
 Feeling some natural self-reproaches for his momentary for- 
 gelfulness of one so really dear to him as Henry Travis, and 
 now greatly anxious for his fate, Sinclair hastened his proceed 
 ings for the search, and having made such arrangements as 
 would tend to the better prosecution of his attempts, he soon 
 disappeared with his command, meaning himself to lead the 
 
HOW HENRY TRAylS FARED. 428 
 
 hunt, at all events until the party readied Four-Mile creek ; 
 when it was his purpose, whether successful or not, to press 
 down with the larger body of his men, by a rapid movement 
 ipon Orangeburg, fulfilling the objects iiWfccated in his confe 
 rence with Rutledge. The further search after the boy, if he 
 was not recovered before readying that point, was to be left to 
 Ballou and Bram, with half a dozen of the best scouts from 
 among the dragoons. Nothing more could then be thought of. 
 
 Leaving our major of dragoons to this labor, we return to the 
 field, and resume our narrative of the struggle. 
 
 It is for us to supply the deficient knowledge, which now 
 prompted the search of Sinclair ; and to show by what proces 
 ses our young friend, Harry Travis, disappeared from the scene 
 of action. We have the evidence of his presence upon the 
 field. He came down with the rest, in the rapid charge of 
 Mazyck, which surprised the loyalists, at the moment when 
 Lieutenant Fry, and three or four of his followers were break 
 ing into the house. Those without, sitting their horses care 
 lessly, OA dismounted and strolling about the grounds, were 
 taken wholly by surprise when the dragoons charged ; and be 
 ing raw recruits mostly, and totally lacking the coolness and 
 steadiness of old soldiers, dispersion followed, except in the 
 .small group of ten or a dozen, who, wheeling around the house, 
 dashed up the avenue, the only opening, which promised them 
 an unobstructed course for flight. The rest, whether on horse 
 or a-foot, darted at once for shelter into the lower woods, or 
 scattered themselves about the grounds, to be run down, and 
 knocked severally on the head by Mazyck s troopers, some of 
 whom very naturally addressed themselves to these perform 
 ances. 
 
 Henry Travis, pistols in hand, found himself thus engaged, 
 along with the rest, almost without a thought. He had heard 
 the shout of Sinclair, and his own had answered it with an ex 
 ulting sense of joyousness ; but the major, at that moment, was 
 on one side of the house, he on the other ; Sinclair was dragging 
 forth the horse of Fry, preparing to charge the only compact 
 force of the enemy which still kept the field. Henry did not 
 see him did not know of the party which had swept up the 
 avenue. His eyes were sufficiently occupied with the fugitive 
 
424 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 figures, on liorse or afoot, that were to be seen scattering in 
 search of cover ; and he was led away, by a natural impulse, 
 which effectually rendered him heedless of any objects, but the 
 one actually befor04i,is eyes. 
 
 Now, it Avill be remembered, that Inglehardt had left Dick 
 of Tophet and Brunson the Trailer, in cover behind the dairy, 
 commissioned with the special duty of securing the person of 
 Bertha Travis, and making off with her to the swamp, irrespec 
 tive of any of the proceedings of himself and his troopers. This 
 was one grand feature of his meditated performances that day, 
 the next in importance to the one task which he assigned to 
 himself, of capturing or destroying Sinclair. We have seen the 
 fruits of his mistake, in supposing that Sinclair was the only 
 guest at ^lolly-Dale. 
 
 Dick of Tophet and the Trailer were duly impressed with 
 the importance of the duty confided to their hands, by the 
 promise of ten guineas an immense sum in those days to be 
 divided between them, in the event of the girl s captivity, and 
 her safe delivery, in the swamp, into the hands of their em 
 ployer. He had his reasons for not undertaking her seizure at 
 the house in person. His emissaries were instructed that they 
 were to confine themselves wholly to the one object, and not to 
 take part in any other performances of the troopers. The rest 
 of the duties of the day, Inglehardt reserved wholly to himself, 
 and his lieutenant, Fry, and entertained no misgivings as 
 why should he? of the perfect adequacy, for his objects, of 
 all his arrangements. 
 
 Dick of Tophet and the Trailer, accordingly, having 
 fastened their horses, along with that of their captavi, in a 
 slose patch of the wood, some fifty or sixty yards south of the 
 settlement, had taken their places of watch in the rear of the 
 dairy. Here they were conveniently situated for covering the 
 garden, the kitchen, and, by a sudden dash, compassing the 
 open ground between these points and the dwelling. But their 
 position did not suffice to take in any of the grounds above, 
 either in the north or west. On foot, and sheltered by woods 
 or fences, they could see nothing of the upper avenue. But 
 they could hear, and were soon apprized by the blast of the 
 l-ugle, which tho T " <<^osed to be Inglehardt s, and by the 
 
HOW HENRY TRAVIS FARED. 425 
 
 strokes of the axe upon the inner doors of the dwelling, tha< 
 there was sjme resistance to be overcome, the character of 
 which they could only conjecture. They concluded that Sin 
 clair, taken in the toils, had barricaded himself, in one of thfl 
 chambers, and that Inglehardt was forcing his way in. Their 
 next conclusion was, that, so soon as the strife should be begun 
 in the house, the females would be forced to leave it, and to fly, 
 cither to the kitchen or the woods. They were to keep them 
 selves ready for this event and moment. To do this, they 
 stole into the garden, tearing off the palings sufficiently to ob 
 tain entrance, and passing up, under shelter of the fence all the 
 while, to that corner of it which stood nearest to the dwelling. 
 Here, they might have penetrated into the court, by simply open 
 ing the gate of the garden ; but any premature exhibition of their 
 persons might only have defeated their objects ; and they final 
 ly crept forward from this point to one of the angles of the gar 
 den, which led obliquely to the lower or southern avenue. 
 Here the woods approached very closely to the garden. The 
 thicket of oakwtiods, sprinkled with pines, was of some density ; 
 and it was from this point that Inglehardt s troopers had gradu 
 ally pressed forward into the open area about the dwelling. 
 The employment of Fry, within the hoiise the noise of his 
 axe, naturally acting upon their anxieties, had led them for 
 ward, and they were grouped carelessly but curiously about the 
 dwelling, on that side chiefly, from which Fry and his follow 
 ers had forced their way into the windows. There was no 
 enemy to be seen, and, in such cases, raw recruits are apt to 
 think that none is to be feared. So completely, indeed, did 
 the place seem to be in the hands of Inglehardt so entirely 
 at his mercy that its situation appealed to the cupidity, even 
 against caution, of such old soldiers as Dick of Tophet and 
 the Trailer. The former as he looked out and listened noting 
 the eager but careless groups in the foreground, exclaimed to 
 his companion : 
 
 " Gimini ! Gimini ! Rafe ! there s nice pickings to be had in 
 that establishment ; and we might ax sensibly, who s to git em ?" 
 
 " I reckon ; but I don t think that the cappin is a-guine to let 
 any of us hev a hack at it ; he ll be for keeping it all to himself." 
 
 " I reckon he ll not be able to help it, ef the thing once be- 
 
426 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 gins, ami we kin only git a little Jamaica to set tlie boys fahly 
 a-fire. I say, Rafe, one of us is enough to take tins gal off in 
 safety, and t other kiirwork for both in picking up the little 
 gould and silver things that s apt to be lying about, jest ready 
 for the hands, when a family s a leetle in fright and confusion. 
 The cappin needn t knoAv but that we brought off the gal to 
 gether. Eh ? What do you say ? S pose you takes the gal 
 affair upon your hands, while I see to the pickings about the 
 place, and we ll share honest what we gits together ?" 
 
 " Ah ! Dick, don t I know what sort o share is guine to come 
 to me ? Don t I know you too well 1 You ain t a-guine to let 
 me see or smell a quarter of the things you picks up." 
 
 " Who the h 1 says I ain t honest ? Look you, Rafe Brun- 
 son, it s not the part of an old friend to make sich insinivations 1 
 A man s character for fair dealing with his friends, when the 
 business is pickings and putting away, is more precious than any 
 gould and silver ; and T ll hev my fingers in the hair of any 
 pusson, in mighty short order, that says I takes more than my 
 rightful share in the incomings of cur right honorable profession ]" 
 " Well, don t be putting your fingers into my wool, Dick, 
 till I gives you occasion. But jest say now, up and down, 
 you ll give us hafe of what you picks up Dick ?" 
 
 " Hafe ! I didn t say that ! But I ll give a rightful share 
 to the man that s my partner in the business. Hafe s another 
 thing. It don t stand to reason that he should hev a full hafe ; 
 bekaise him that takes all the risk, lies a right to all, cept what 
 he chooses to think the other one desarves. Now, yon know 
 that, I m always for the most resk, and I don t vally pistol-shot 
 or sabre-cut, when it s all that stands a tween me and a pretty 
 pickings. But you does. You don t go into a skrimmage with 
 a whole heart. You re best for trailing and scouting, and I m 
 best for fighting; and we shares accordin to a man s natur, and 
 what his desarvings calls for. Don t I know that when that 
 house is a gutting, I ll be called upon to draw knife on some of 
 them troopers? Don t you see that I ll hev to fight, hand to 
 hand, with the Lord knows who or how many prehaps a 
 dozen ! And don t you see that I kain t stand to see one of 
 them chuckleheads carrying off a fine gould watch, or a great 
 silver basin, or a heavy silver cup, or any precious fine thing 
 
HOW HENRY TRAVIS FARED. 427 
 
 chat he don t know the vally of, when small chores would 
 answer just as well for him ; and ef he s obstropulous, and won t 
 let me manage for him, don t you see, I ll hev to slip a knife 
 into his windbag { Now that s the work that you don t love 
 to do, and that s the very work I m best up to ; and it s hard 
 work, too ; and its mighty dangerous work, Hafe ; and it makes 
 a man so sorry when he has to do it to one of our own people. 
 No ! it stands to reason that the man what takes sich hard 
 work, and mighty resks on himself, has a rightful share to jist 
 what he pleases ; and has the right to give his partner, jist only 
 what s proper to his small services. Now, you see, this job of 
 carrying off the gal, I shares that equal with you. Tain t 
 much to be done, you see. Thar s no fighting, only jest quick 
 catching and close watching. Well, I got the job, and that s 
 about the hardest part of it. Well, you takes the gal off, and 
 we shares equal them ten guineas ; and I look to the pickings 
 of the house, and I shares with you handsome, cordiri to my 
 notions. And that s what I thinks honest dealings with a part 
 ner. But I ll make you say it s honest. Look you, you take 
 the gal, and you shill hev six out of the ten guineas. Thar ! 
 that s what I calls handsom.e. After that, there s no saying till 
 we sees the pickings, what I shill give you from the guttings 
 of the house." 
 
 The Trailer answered this excessive liberality of his associate 
 with a ghastly grin. 
 
 " It s jist like all your dealings, Dick : jist sich a bargain as 
 the fox drives when he goes a hunting with the cat. But we ll 
 see. I reckon I kin manage the gal easy enough, and I con 
 fess you air best for a skrimmage, and for finding out where the 
 good pickings air." 
 
 The superior will of the ruffian, as usual, coerced his com 
 panion into submission. 
 
 " Well, now, Rafe, that being fixed and onderstood between 
 us, twill be jest right now to get ready to make a spring. I 
 don t want any of them lanksided troopers to be much ahead 
 of me. It s well, prehaps, whar thar s any chaince of a skrim 
 mage, to send one or two of em ahead jist to draw the bullets 
 of the inimy ; but I reckon thar s no bullets hyar to be drawn, 
 except Sinclair s, and the cappin is more in the way of his, jist 
 
428 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 now, than anybody else ; and all the scuffle a tween them will 
 be over afore we need to put in. So jist you follow me on 4 
 through this paling-. We ll jist get on the outside, easy to the 
 house, and easy to the woods. Whenever I goes into a gentle 
 man s parlor, I likes to keep the door open behind me. Thar 
 now, a dozen steps, and I gits to the house j hyar now, at my 
 back, is the woods ; and, yonder, about a hundred yards, is the 
 horses. You see ?" 
 
 " All right, I reckon ! It s a good place I think for ossevation." 
 
 " Good ; it s the only place ! Here we re ready for jest any 
 thing what happens. 13ut they re mighty slow. Hah ! what s 
 that ? a shot ! two shots ! Willie Sinclair s giving the fellows 
 his lead ! But pistols can t do much in any man s hands with 
 hafe a dozen fellows on him." 
 
 " There goes another bang !" 
 
 " And another ! and thar s a bugle blast." 
 
 " That s not for us ! Hello ! what s the trouble now ? what s 
 them horses we hears ? It s a troop !" 
 
 "A rush, by jingoes! A troop of dragoons at full speed, 
 down the avenue. Gimini ! they re St. Julien s men. Hell and 
 blisters! won t these fellows catch it! Whar s the cappin ? 
 v. liar s Fry? whar s anybody, to hold up these fellows and 
 make em face about handsome ! Grim ! I must bring em 
 nbout, square up to the music, or they ll be smashed to pieces 
 in a twinkle." 
 
 And Dick of Tophet drew his sabre, and was rushing out to 
 the area, where the loyalists were beginning confusedly to show 
 their consciousness of the new danger, when the Trailer caught 
 his arm, and dragged him back into cover. 
 
 " What air you about, Dick ?" 
 
 " Don t you see ?" pulling away from his companion. " These 
 chaps will be smashed etarnally to pieces, and nobody to show 
 em what to do !" 
 
 "And kin you help em kin anybody help em now? 
 Don t you see the broadsword is writ on every one of theii 
 necks. They re cotch d napping, on their haunches, and will 
 never make a rise. Thar the fellows come with a whoop !" 
 
 " Thunder and smoke ! I kain t look at it, and do nothing !" 
 and Dick of Tophet. as lie spoke, would have broken away 
 
HOW HENRY TRAVIS FARED. 429 
 
 from the grasp of the Trailer, but that the other held on firmly, 
 and drew him further back into the thicket, in spite of his 
 struggles. 
 
 " You re a fool, after all, Joel Andrews ! You kain t do no 
 good. You kain t save them fellows ! They re gone ! Thar ! 
 don t you see ! They re melted fairly under the rush. Half 
 a dozen saddles emptied, and the rest scudding round the house 
 with the dragoons after them! Hark! thar s another rush! 
 Hafe of them dashing up the avenue !" 
 
 "And the dragoons after them! Who s that? Thunder! 
 It s Willie Sinclair, himself, as I m a born sinner ! He s in the 
 saddle! Whar kin the cappin be? Whar s Inglehardt? None 
 thar but Sinclair ! Thar ! you hear him shouting ! Now, 
 whar s the fellow, in all that squad, to face about and taste his 
 broadsword ? Oh ! ef I only had a good ducking gun to draw 
 sight on him now, Avith fifteen pelters in the barrel !" 
 
 " Don t stop to talk, Dick. The time for us is gone. No 
 pickings at that house to-day ! Back ! they ll see you ! Look 
 at them scattered fellows. They re making for the woods hyar, 
 and will bring the dragoons upon us. Now s the time to snake 
 away to the horses. Thar s no chaince, ef we stay. These 
 fellows kain t hold up ; they re too raw ; they don t know now 
 but that thar heads air all off. In ! to the thicket, Dick, or 
 you re a gone coon ! The troopers air a-coming," 
 
 And, seizing upon the arm of his reluctant companion, whose 
 hope of pickings at Holly-Dale, was, for the present, effectually 
 extinguished by this unexpected visitation, he drew him along 
 with him into cover, both pushing on beside the rear of the 
 garden fence, and toward the thicket behind the dairy where 
 their horses had been fastened. 
 
 Dick of Tophet groaned as he went : " Sich a fine chaince 
 cut up by these bloody rascals ! Oh ! gimini ! thar s no hon 
 est chainces left for a poor fellow in the world !" 
 
 " Don t stop to grunt ! You hear. They re a-coming." 
 
 The fugitives were dashing, pell-mell, into the woods below, 
 the cover of the swamp affording them the best prospect of 
 refuge. The policy of the Trailer was to keep aloof from their 
 course: "Keep up above a bit these runaway rascals will 
 bring the dragoons upon us." 
 
430 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Not too high ! Thar s the thick where the nags are fast 
 ened." 
 
 " Yes, but let us stretch up a leetth and work round it. It s 
 too open hyar to strike right straight." 
 
 " They re a coming this way ! Hark !" 
 
 " It s hut one horse, I m a thinking." 
 
 " It s one of our people, perhaps." 
 
 " No ! it s a blasted boy ! He sees us ! The kitten ! He s 
 a whooping at us ! Ha ! a pistol-shot ! Pop ! another ! A 
 tree ! a tree, Rafe!" 
 
 And, verily, the young trooper, for whom Dick of Tophet 
 and his companion now prepared themselves, was no other than 
 our missing boy, Henry Travis. His quick eye had detected 
 the two outlaws, at the very moment when they skulked out of 
 the foreground, making into the upper woods ; while the fugi 
 tives generally struck for the lower thickets, which led directly 
 to the swamp. While the dragoons dashed after the latter, 
 Henry, without ever pausing to ask if he was followed, or 
 accompanied, started off, in a smart canter, in pursuit of the 
 two. Shouting to them to halt and yield, he emptied his pis 
 tols as he rode ineffectually while Devil Dick and the 
 Trailer, separating, dodged behind several trees, but within 
 supporting distance of each other. 
 
 " The barking puppy. Surrinder to sich as him /" muttered 
 Dick of Tophet. Then, as the boy came dashing on, he sprang 
 out from his tree, caught the bridle of the steed in his grasp, and 
 wheeled the animal right about, backing him among the bushes. 
 Henry boldly hurled his pistol at his head ; but this, though 
 well-aimed, the assailant dodged with great dexterity ; already 
 had the boy lifted the other pistol, resolutely intending not 
 again to miss, when a blow from the Trailer behind, knocked 
 him from his horse, and covered one side of his face with blood. 
 When the youth became fully conscious, after this stunning 
 blow, it was because of the smart motion of the horse which 
 bore him, closely grasped in the arms of his captor, and mov 
 ing rapidly through an open pine thicket, which his dulled 
 faculties for he was still in a state of stupor frtorri the blow 
 failed to recognise as a tract belonging *o his father s plan 
 tation. 
 
THE SORE STRAIT THE HOT TRAIL --CAPTIVITY 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 YHE SORE STRAIT THE HOT TRAIL CAPTIVITY. 
 
 THE cool, sturdy, experienced habits of Dick of Tophet and 
 his companion, the Trailer, enabled them to make off successfully, 
 carrying with them not only their own, but the horses of 
 their captain, and that of Henry Travis. These two horses 
 were led by the Trailer, while Dick bore away their captive, 
 as we have seen, upon his own steed. They moved off with 
 sufficient deliberation, in a walk at first, so that no unnecessary 
 clatter should reach the ears of any hostile party- took a cir 
 cuitous course, which carried them almost within sight of the 
 main road, upon which, however, they were careful not to show 
 themselves ; and, having reached a point sufficiently remote, they 
 started off in a smart canter, wherever the thickets would allow 
 of it, rounding gradually down, toward the swamp, and in the 
 direction of the bay, where it had been arranged that the whole 
 party should rendezvous. In this progress they were totally 
 unpursued. The natural direction taken by fugitives and pur 
 suers alike, was toward the swamp recesses. The sagacity of 
 the old troopers assured them that such would be the probable 
 course of both parties, and their senses confirmed the conjec 
 ture. But for this, and had Sinclair, the moment his victory 
 was made sure, turned into the woods with his whole troop, 
 there is little doubt that the outlaws would have been com 
 pelled to abandon their prisoner, in order to effect their own 
 escape, and even then they would scarce have succeeded in the 
 latter object. There is a farther probability, however, that, 
 forced to release their captive, they Avould first have brained 
 him. Neither of them was much inclined to burden himself 
 with prisoners, and, but for the selfish speculations of the least 
 merciful of the two, our young volunteer would have found his 
 first field his last. Brunson, the Trailer, was for despatching 
 
4 2 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 him, in the very moment when he knocked him off his horse 
 hut Dick of Tophet resisted. 
 
 " No ! no ! Rafe ; the lad s worth his weight in goiild to us 
 F reckon." 
 
 " I don t see how. Your gould speckilations, Dick, don t 
 (urn out so well in the eend as you says at the beginning. Ef 
 we re to carry that lark along with us, .he chaince is that we ll 
 hardly git off with whole bones ourselves." 
 
 " Oh ! I reckon we sliill. You see the cliase takes down for 
 he swamp. Nobody seed us slipping off up here, but this 
 young cocksparrow, and it warn t lucky for him that he did. 
 Hyar, now, gi s a hand, and sling him up to my crupper. I ll 
 take him easy enough tell he kin raise his own head. It s a 
 heavy clip you ve gi n him." 
 
 " I reckon the skull s cracked," was the reply, as they raised 
 the boy across the saddle. " Ef so, thar s no great use in toting 
 him. Better throw him off, and let s put him out of his pain." 
 
 " Grim ! no ! I tell you thar s gould to come out of that boy s 
 hide. The cappin will pay for his carkiss, dead or alive ; and, 
 ef he gits over that crack of yourn, his dad s able to pay smart 
 ly. He s as rich as a Jew." 
 
 " He s not a-breathing, Dick." 
 
 " Yes ! It s only a swound he s in. I reckon such a lick 
 over your head or mine, would have put us in a swound too. 
 Bear up. Thar ! that will do. Now mount yourself and bring 
 on the horses. We must push for the bay." 
 
 " But you don t reckon to find anybody thar ! And whar s 
 the cappin all this time ?" 
 
 " I reckon he s fast lock d up in the arms of keptivity. But 
 we kin buy him out, with this boy and his dad. Push on now, 
 ;md recollect you ve got to pick him up. Ef nobody comes to 
 the rendezvous by midnight, we must git across the river some 
 how, and that too without going down to the village. I reckon 
 that ll be the place where Willie Sinclair will be pushing, as 
 soon as he gits his troopers all in hand after this chase. It ll 
 be no place for us. We must git across the river without going 
 down to the village, even ef we has to swim the horses." 
 
 " And I wonder how you re to carry Cappin Travis and thii 
 chap across, on swimming horses ?" 
 
THE SORE STRAIT THE HOT TRAIL --CAPTIVITY. 433 
 
 " Wliar thar s a will thar s a way, ftafe ! But we must sarch 
 for a dugout. I reckon I kin find one in and about Four-Mile 
 creek. At the worst, we kin leave the prisoners behind, ef we 
 find that we re pressed too hard." 
 
 And, thus communing, they rode the powerful arms of 
 Dick of -Tophet sustaining the still insensible boy, slung like a 
 dead body across his saddle, and Branson following as close as 
 he could with the two led horses. All this while, the troopers 
 of Sinclair were fruitlessly pressing down into the swamp fast 
 nesses after the half dozen fugitives, who had sought refuge 
 there. And this search was the loss of a great deal of precious 
 time. Joel Andrews and his comrade, with their captive, had 
 readied the bay where the boy s father had been fettered, long 
 before the lights began to gleam in the distant woods, from the 
 torches of Sinclair s troop, now all on the trail, beating the 
 woods from the main road to the edge of the swamp, in search 
 of the missing boy. 
 
 Before our fugitives reached this point, Henry Travis began 
 to recover. His groans, followed by a struggle to raise him 
 self upon the saddle, apprized Dick of Tophet of his returning 
 life and senses. 
 
 "He ll do!" he muttered. "Well, my lad, what do you 
 want?" 
 
 " Lift me up," said the boy. 
 
 " Well, I reckon it ll be easier to both of us if you do set upon 
 your own haunches a little." 
 
 And he stopped his horse, and gave the boy the necessary 
 assistance, which raised him upon the saddle, sitting with both 
 legs upon the same side of the horse, after the fashion of female 
 equestrians. 
 
 " Thar you are, my little kurnel ; and, now, how do you 
 feel ?" 
 
 " Feel 1" 
 
 " Ay ! that s what I axes. How do you feel ? Hev you 
 got any aches and pains in preticklar 1 A leetle sore about the 
 head, I reckon, and a leetle stiffish in the j ints. You ain t 
 been a-riding jest as you ve been used to ride, I reckon." 
 
 "My head ! my head !" murmured the boy. 
 
 " I reckon it s a leetle on easy. It s an onnateral headache 
 
434 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 you ve got, cotcli d from a graze agin the butteend of a pistol 
 You see, my leetle cocksparrow, if such young birds as you will 
 go into a skrimmage, it s but nateral you should catch some 
 sore throats and sore heads, and sore shins, and be sore for a 
 long spell a ter it. But, you ll be better by to-morrow. A 
 leetle pine-gum plaister on that head of yourn will stop up the 
 sore places." 
 
 The boy murmured : 
 
 " Won t you let me down ? I must go to mother." 
 
 " No ! no ! Your mammy don t want to see you tell you gits 
 better ; but I ll carry you to your daddy. He s a-waiting for 
 you now." 
 
 The boy was silent not so much because he was satisfied 
 with this assurance, but really in consequence of returning stu 
 por. But he still kept erect upon the saddle, the arm of his 
 captor circling him with its great muscles, and the horse pres 
 sing forward now at a canter. Henry saw that he was going 
 through a pine-forest, with no great undergrowth, but his 
 senses were quite too much dulled for observation. When 
 the party approached the bay, Dick of Tophet said to his 
 companion : 
 
 " You kin stop and see after the prisoner, I ll push down 
 toward the creek. We must keep the two sep rate jest now. 
 When you hears my horn, bring your coon down to the creek 
 as well as you kin. You kin loose his legs and make him walk 
 it, at the p int of the bagnet. He may need a stick or two, of 
 your knife, to make him sensible which road he s to take." 
 
 Dick rode on half a mile farther, and was within a hundred 
 yards of the creek, when he heard a whistle which he answered. 
 Suddenly, a man emerged from the thicket. 
 
 " What s ripe ?" demanded the trooper. 
 
 " Corn in mutton !" was the answer, in the deliberate tones 
 of Inglehardt. 
 
 "Gimini! You your own self, cappin? Why, how did 
 you git off and git here so soon ?" 
 
 A few words sufficed for answer. 
 
 " Who have you got here ?" 
 
 " A prisoner ! The young cub of the old wolf. Jest no 
 other pusson than Travis s son." 
 
THE SORE STRAIT THE HOT TRAIL CAPTIVITY. 435 
 
 "Ha! ha! father and son eh? Weil, they may bring the 
 daughter yet. Bring the boy down to the creek put him at once 
 into the dugout, and take him across the river. Rope him and 
 leave him there. Bring back the boat as soon as possible. It will 
 take us three trips to get the party over." 
 
 But Henry Travis, now on his legs, resisted the tender entreaties 
 of Dick of Tophet. 
 
 "Let me go. I m no prisoner. Isn t that Captain Ingle- 
 hardt ?" 
 
 He had distinguished the voice of the latter, though he had failed 
 to discover more than the outline of his person. Inglehardt walked 
 away taking no notice of the speech. 
 
 No matter who it is, my lark, as for being a prisoner, who says 
 you is ? You re only a young gentleman on a visit to his friends, 
 whom they re a taking care of. That s the how : so come along 
 with me, and don t be giving us the trouble to pick you up roughly 
 to lay you straight." 
 
 And he laid hands on the boy to haul him forward. But the 
 gallant lad jerked himself free, wheeled about, and having no 
 weapon but his fist, planted a blow in the breast of the other, which 
 was quite creditable, for aim as well as force, to so young a 
 bruiser. 
 
 "Ha! you re at that, air you," answered the ruffian, returning 
 the blow as he spoke, and felling the poor boy as if under the 
 weight of a sledge-hammer. 
 
 " Don t hurt him, if you can help it," said Inglehardt returning 
 for a moment. " But don t let him escape you." 
 
 4 That he won t; but the young cock s game. Ef ever he lives 
 to git his spurs he ll rash somebody s sides yit." 
 
 Thus speaking, he lifted up the bay and carrying him without 
 seeming effort to the creek, laid him down in the bottom of the 
 du out, which he at once pushed away from the shore. Seizing 
 upon one paddle, while the negro boy Julius plied the other, 
 he was not long in making his way to the main stream, and still less 
 time getting across. Here, having taken out his captive, he corded 
 his arms and feet securely, and left him, under cover, upon the 
 opposite banks. He then put back with all speed for the creek, 
 and arrived just at the moment when the Trailer had brought 
 down the four horses to the water. 
 
436 THE FORAYER& 
 
 " Why didn t you bring the prisoner, and leave the horeg tc 
 the last ?" demanded Inglehardt. 
 
 " He s right, cappin. We ve got the boy, and that s soxnfv 
 lliing even if we lose the daddy. As for the horses, we kic 
 uever do without them, wherever we go, and there s no telling 
 whar to git others, ef we lose these. We must put them over 
 at once." 
 
 Two horses swimming "beside the canoe, were all that the 
 boy Julius could manage. Two trips were required accord 
 ingly for the transfer of the beasts to the opposite side. Thi 
 consumed no little time, and was not a little wearisome to our 
 Dick of Tophet, strong man as he was. When he recrossed a 
 third time to his superior, he found the loyalist captain not a 
 little anxious for his coming. 
 
 " You were long that trip, Dick, very long." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and ef I hev much more of sich work to do 
 to-night, I ll git longer and longer, untell I snap right off in the 
 middle." 
 
 " Don t talk of breaking down yet, my good fellow. That 
 will do when we are all quite safe on t other side. The Trail 
 er s slow. What can keep him." 
 
 " Well, I reckon he s pretty well wore out like myself, and I 
 spose old Travis won t do nothing for himself, and the Trailer 11 
 hev to prick him along with the small eend of a knife, as . 
 tell d him. We hain t got much time to lose, that s mighty 
 sartin." 
 
 Inglehardt strode up and down with a degree of impatience,, 
 clearly expressed ; which was a very unusual exhibition with 
 him. He had need to be anxious. By this time the signs and 
 sounds of pursuit were to be heard from above. A mile ahead, 
 the gleam of torches was to be seen, fitfully crossing through 
 the woods. The hunt was up. The hunters were approaching, 
 They could even hear the distant tread of the horse, and now 
 and then a shout from the distant troopers announced sonr r 
 discovery. 
 
 Yet, the Trailer had not brought down his prisoner fiom the 
 lay. Inglehardt was impatient. 
 
 * TVy will be upon us before we can get him off. By heav 
 er s I hear dogs. Do you not? If there are dogs, we are lost." 
 
THE SORE ST3AIT THE HOT TRAIL CAPTIVITY. 43 i 
 
 Devil Dick stooped to listen. 
 
 " I don t hear tlie dogs. I reckon they ve got none. Er 
 they hed they d ha been down upon us long before. They 
 never would have kept the straight track down through tho 
 woods when we never iome that way. No ! I don t reckon 
 they ve got dogs. But they re a coming on jist as fast as cf 
 they had. T wouldn t do to push up and see after the Trailer 
 now, for I see a light that kain t be fur from the bay, and thar s 
 no saying how many are a stalking softly in the darkness jes* 
 between where them lights are a-scattered." 
 
 " No ! we must take no such risk. D n the fellow, what 
 can he be about ?" 
 
 " Aix him ! He s a born fool for anything but scouting. 
 That he kin do prime. I wonder whar s his sense to waste 
 time upon a prisoner. He had only to slit his throat and make 
 tracks, ef so be the fellow was troublesome. And what s a 
 prisoner ? It s one thing to bring him off, and so much the bet 
 ter ; but it s a more serious thing to bring one s self off, and 
 save one s bacon. Ef he don t come soon " 
 
 " Hark ! Hush ! There is a dog, Dick." 
 
 " It sounds a leetle like ! Look you, cappin, we d best take 
 the boat and push her out to the river, we kin lie off and listen, 
 and ef the Trailer comes down before the troopers, we kin take 
 him aboard jist as easy as if we staid here, and resk d our own 
 necks. He ll find the way down to the mouth of the creek, for 
 he knows, if he s got as much sense as a groundmole, that we re 
 a hanging off and on." 
 
 " There goes a horse down to the right." 
 
 " Yis, and another right toward us. Them torches are this 
 side of the bay. Let s put out, captain. It s an easy rush down 
 to where we stands." 
 
 " Yet I am unwilling to leave the fellow. 
 
 . " Never you mind him. Thar s no fear of the Trailer, ef so 
 be he ll only cast off the prisoner, or lay him out, with a sharp 
 tooth jest where he stands: as for us look you, cappin, thar s 
 no time for shilly-shally. They re a coming, by all the pipers, 
 and with a rush. Look at all of them torches a coming togeth 
 er and jest hear them horses." 
 
 He seized Inglehardt by the wrist, and pulled him, still half 
 
438 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 reluctant, down to the boat. They got in, and pushed her out 
 into the deepest part of the creek, which, by the way, just at 
 this point, was barely deep enough to float her, light and little 
 as she was. The paddles were dipped carefully, and the dugout 
 slipped forward without a murmur, her head down to the river. 
 When she reached the mouth of the creek, Inglehardt took 
 hold of the overhanging branches of a tree, and held fast. The 
 paddles were taken in they waited and listened. 
 
 Still they could see the torches and occasionally hear the 
 tread of horses. It was now quite evident that the former 
 were flaring about not far from the spot where they had stood. 
 
 " We didn t put out a moment too soon, cappin." 
 
 " No ! They have completely surrounded the Trailer." 
 
 " Ah ! but he s a raal mole for finding a way out, and lying 
 close to the airth. I reckon they ain t found him. We d ha 
 hearn something of it if they bed." 
 
 " Hist ! Thar s a troop in motion." 
 
 "It s guine down. But you see, thar s the lights still all 
 along the edges of the swamp: I reckon Sinclair divided, 
 and one hafe of his troop s pushing for the village, looking a ter 
 us, and t other s beating the bushes." 
 
 " The torches are going upward. They re all together, as if 
 in consultation." 
 
 " Ay, I reckon they ve gin it up as a bad job. They ain t 
 found nothing to pay them for the ile of their joints that s 
 worked out to-night." 
 
 " What ! do you think the Trailer has escaped." 
 
 " Sure as a gun ! I reckon he s given Cappin Travis a touch 
 of cold steel and laid him out under the bushes, and he s taken 
 a stretch alongside of him for company sake." 
 
 " You don t suppose he s murdered Travis ?" 
 
 " Tain t murder in wartime, captain, and he s done it in self- 
 defence. Travis can t give tongue, and the Trailer won t, and 
 they lie snug together between some old logs. That s the how. 
 Ef they had found the Trailer, or the cappin, dead or alive, 
 wouldn t they hev given tongue in a mighty hellabaloo? But 
 they hain t, and that makes me sure they hain t found either of 
 em. I reckon, cappin, we might put the nose of the dug-out 
 ap the creek again. By easy paddling, we can snake up, and 
 
THE SORE STRAIT THE HOT TRAIL CAPTIVITY. 
 
 make no stir, to whar we was a standing before. Then, if we 
 hears nothing, and them torches are a gitting fainter and fainter 
 I ll put out for the bay, and see if one old scout can scent the 
 track of another. Rafe knows my whistle, jist as he knows 
 one bird from another. 
 
 " Very good. Put about." 
 
 And the dug-out was sent up the creek again, and found her 
 way to the former position without disturbing any unfriendly 
 echoes. 
 
 During all this while, Sinclair and his troopers, as we have 
 seen, had been busy brushing the forest. They had picked up 
 three prisoners, who readily submitted and joined the troop of 
 the conqueror. But the particular fugitives sought for had not 
 been found; and, leaving a body of his followers, chiefly under 
 the guidance of Jim Ballou, to scout while there was any hope 
 of discovery, the major of dragoons pushed forward with all 
 speed to Oraiigeburg. 
 
 After waiting some time on the movements of the scouting 
 party of Ballou, whose torches were still to be seen occasionally, 
 like so many flitting corpse candles through the distant woods, 
 Dick of Tophet said : 
 
 I reckon, cappin, it ll be quite safe to take a peep at the bay 
 now and see what s come of the Trailer." 
 
 "Ay, we ll go together, Dick." 
 
 " Better don t you, cappin. Who knows what s a squatting 
 in them woods a waiting to see upon whose shoulders it may 
 jump. It s easier for one man to git cla r of a spring than 
 two ; and though two s better for fighting than one, yet in a 
 scouting affair like this, one s safest." 
 
 " Safe or not, Dick, I ll take a look at the woods along with 
 you." 
 
 " Well, come along : but you ve got no we pon ! Hyar s a 
 .pistol, one of mine. I ve got the pair of that young catamount 
 of Travis in iny buzzom, but they ain t loaded." 
 
 " This will do. Push ahead." 
 
 " Close and saftly now, cappin," was the prompt answer, and 
 they both entered the woods. 
 
 They moved cautiously, and reached the preciiicts of the bay 
 without interruption. Then Devil Dick whistled "Jist you 
 
t40 THE FOKAYEIIS. 
 
 see," as he said, " an insinivating whistle, as if to say, thar s a 
 ittle friendly bird a hopping about, and he ells you the hawks 
 are all gone." 
 
 A very few moments only had elapsed when the xignal was 
 answered, and in five minutes more the party in scare h encoun 
 tered the Trailer coming toward them. 
 
 " Lord, Rafe, how we hev sweated for you." 
 
 " I reckon I ve done a pretty bit of sweating for myself, old 
 fellow, jist from thinking of the hug of the black bear that was 
 a looking a ter me. More than once I thought I had his very 
 paws upon me. But a miss is good as a mile, and the sweat s 
 gone off with the danger. I was jist awaiting to be sure that 
 all was safe afore I ventured out to, look a ter you. I didn t 
 dare to risk the signal, till I had snaked all round and a tween 
 the bay and the creek." 
 
 " You have had a narrow chaince, Brunson." 
 
 " Well it s true I hev but you see, cappin, ef a man has 
 the experience and the sense, and ain t scary, but kin jist lie 
 cool and wait his time, thar s hardly any chaince so narrow 
 that a small sizeable man kain t squeeze through. I would hev 
 got to you long before the troopers worked down on the trail 
 hyar, if it twarn t for that denied troublesome prisoner that 
 you give me to bring along." 
 
 " What have you done with him ]" demanded Inglehardt 
 somewhat anxiously. 
 
 " Stowed him close away " 
 
 "Hed to knife him, Rafe ehf 
 
 " You have not killed him, Brunson ?" 
 
 " No, cappin but I come mighty nigh to doing it. A leetlo 
 more and and I had done it. As twas, I made out by giving 
 him a tickle of cold steel, now and then, in the throat aiid 
 sides." 
 
 "Is he much hurt ?" 
 
 "No, I reckon not only a little sorish where I tickled him, 
 and from a hard jam which I had to give him under long tim 
 ber, with my weight screwed into his carcass." 
 
 The Trailer was allowed to detail his adventures seriatim, 
 We shall condense his narrative to our limits. 
 
 Very much delaj ed as he Lad been in bringing down th 
 
THE SORE STRAIT THE HOT TRAIL CAPTIVITY. 441 
 
 horses and providing for their transfer to the opposite side of 
 the river, the Trailer, \vhen he returned to his prison, found the 
 distance between his position at the bay, and that of the scout 
 ing party of Sinclair very much -lessened. This required the 
 utmost decision, and the most prompt movement, in order to 
 effect his object. Besides, greatly fatigued as he had been by 
 his previous exertions, it demanded an extraordinary effort of 
 will and energy to bring himself to any farther tasks. But the 
 old scout and soldier is usually capable of these extraordinary 
 efforts, and the Trailer set about his labors with sufficient re 
 solves for his purpose. He untied the legs of Travis, and bade 
 him walk. But Travis showed himself reluctant to do anything 
 which could contribute U> the prolongation of his captivity. 
 He beheld the torches of the hunters, and he heard the tramp- 
 lings of their horses. He divined their object, and readily 
 conjectured the whole history of Inglehardt s defeat at Holly- 
 Dale, very much as we have been able to report. He was slow, 
 therefore, to obey the requisitions of the Trailer, and with such 
 near promise of succor. But he felt too entirely at the merc^ 
 of the fellow still, and knew too well how reckless of humax 
 life were all such persons at such moments, and he forebore 
 open opposition, and aimed only to delay a progress which he 
 could not avowedly withstand. At first he concluded to try if 
 his custodian was corruptible. He offered him a liberal reward 
 in money, to be paid him as soon as he could get back to Holly- 
 Dale. Twenty guineas was a sum to dazzle the imagination of 
 the scout under ordinary conditions, and the sum promised was 
 increased to thirty. But the Trailer, not being a whit more 
 virtuous than his neighbors, yet acknowledged certain laws and 
 obligations. He was very much afraid, if the truth were known, 
 of Dick of Tophet, his companion, to whom he ascribed fearful 
 powers, and whose close neighborhood he was ir.clined to sus 
 pect. He was also sensible that he should establish a large 
 claim upon Inglehardt by his fidelity in this very work in hand. 
 Besides, he was a believer in the British crown, and in the 
 potent sufficiency of the army of George the Third, to effect 
 the permanent conquest of the country. Whatever were the 
 considerations moving him to a virtuous resistance to the bribe 
 offered and we confess our inability to say or to conjecture 
 
 19* 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 precisely what they were it is enougl to know that he ic 
 jected the tempting rewards offered by his captive twenty 
 thirty, forty, and finally, fifty guineas larger amounts than he 
 had ever been possessed of, were thus rejected with the con- 
 stancy of patriot virtue. This, at least, was his own story to 
 Inglehardt. We are at liberty to believe it or not, as we please. 
 He may have lied in this particular, and his policy might be 
 simply to establish, in Inglehardt s mind, a true notion of the 
 value of his services, by a reference to the sum which the op 
 posite party was willing to pay for his escape. 
 
 Finding his bribes unavailing, and the troopers of Sinclair 
 rapidly approaching, Travis changed his tactics and doggedly 
 refused to walk. 
 
 " With that," said the Trailer, " I out with my knife and put 
 it to his throat. Now, says I, go, or I ll cut away ! Says 
 he You may cut me to pieces but I ll not walk a step ! That 
 riled me. At first I thought to pick him up, and take him off 
 bodily upon my shoulders. But, Lord, I was jest then hardly 
 able to carry myself, and felt a most like lying down and letting 
 the troopers do what they would with me. But I was riled, 
 and I tickled him about the chin and throat, and he seed I was 
 getting the hair up, and he took a few steps for a d. But then 
 he stopped short agin, and so I put the knife, I reckon half an 
 inch deep into his haunches. That sent him for a d a leetle 
 further, but jest then, hearing a shout, and seeing as how the 
 torches was a coming on pretty fast, he stopped again, and 
 swore he d not go a peg further ; and he threatened me with all 
 sorts of hangings, and burnings, and whippings, and what not, ef 
 I didn t wheel about and march with him into the inimy s camp ; 
 and he then offered me his fifty guineas again, ef I d do as he 
 wanted me. Jest then, I looked about me, and I seed the 
 torches coming down mighty fast, and I heard the horses feet 
 heavy on the airth, and I seed that ef he kept me shilly-shally, 
 going a bit and stopping another, that he d git off, and git me 
 into the halter besides, and so I seed that I had one way only 
 and jest then he got preticklarly bold and sassy, and I got 
 more and more riled. I sweated like a bull in fly-time. So I 
 jes-t looked at him a moment, and says I You won t go* and 
 says he : No, I won t move a peg and jest as he said it, I 
 
THE SORE STRAIT THE HOT TRAIL CAPTIVITY. 443 
 
 jumped on him full, and all spread out; and I brought him 
 down to the airth, jest alongside of this great pine and by the 
 old Har.icane track, and, snake or no snake, I rolled him up, 
 close agin the sides of the tree, with his face out, and I stretched 
 myself down alongside of him, face in, and I fixed my knife at 
 his throat, and I clapped my handkcher upon his mouth, and I 
 said to him, softly through my shet teeth, Now, look you, ef 
 you don t lie close, and keep still, by the etarnal fires, I ll slash 
 your oozen [weasand] jest as quick as I would that of a fat 
 shote in December. And so I had him, the tree fastening him 
 along the back from head to heel, my knees agin him in front, 
 my body agin his body, my face to his face, my handkcher on 
 his mouth, and rny knife agin his throat." 
 
 " Grim ! That was a sarcumvention ! eh ! cappin !" ex 
 claimed -Dick of Toplict in admiration. Inglehardt said noth 
 ing, and the Trailer proceeded. 
 
 " So I lied him pretty sure, and he felt it. And he lay quiet 
 enough, though the torches flared out a most alongside and 
 I jest let him feel the tickle of the knife p int now and then, 
 to keep him sensible ; but one time, one fellow jumped his 
 horse clean over the logs and his hind feet lighted down, I 
 reckon, not three feet above my head. Then I felt him twist 
 about and try to shake his mouth free from my handkcher, but I 
 put my knees into him, and I scraped his throat a leetle with the 
 knife, and he sung small like a child that smells the hickories 
 over the chimney-place. And thar he is jest as quiet as 
 ever only mighty sore about the keel and upper timbers, I 
 reckon, and with jest sech a taste of my knife, as will sarre his 
 palate for the next twenty years. 
 
 In a moment, Dick of Tophet was engaged*in the agreeable 
 task of pulling out the captive from that durance vile, in which 
 he had been so judiciously tickled into silence. He was extri 
 cated, quietly submitted, helped himself to rise, but said noth 
 ing. His condition could not well be discerned, as the party 
 bad no light. 
 
 " Can you walk, Captain Travis ?" demanded Inglehardt. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 "Lead him along to the boat." 
 
 Sore, indeed, suffering pain of body and of mind, but stem 
 
44-1 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 of soul, and in some degree triumphant of soul as he felt surt 
 of the escape of his family, of Hutledge and Sinclair Travis 
 was resigned to his fate. He, at least, would yield no triumph 
 to his captor. He little dreamed of the pangs yet in reserve 
 for him ; and moved forward, with a stern calmness of de 
 meanor to the creek between Devil Dick and the Trailer, though 
 every step was taken in pain, and his whole body seemed in a 
 very flame of fever. 
 
DOUBTS, HOPES, PEARS A TANGLED YARN. 115 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIJL 
 
 DOUBTS, HOPES, FEARS A TANGLED YARN. 
 
 IT was with ,1 feeling of intense disappointment that Willie 
 Sinclair found his search after Henry Travis fruitless. His 
 duties imperatively required that he himself should forego it, 
 after a certain period, and proceed to Oangeburg in prosecu 
 tion of his military tasks. He did so, leaving Ballou, the scout, 
 in charge of a small party commissioned to continue the pur 
 suit so long as there remained any precinct in the vicinity un- 
 examined. 
 
 He could not have left the affair in better hands. But Bal 
 lou found himself at fault. His hunt that night resulted in no 
 discovery ; and with the morning, he descended with his party 
 into those recesses of the swamp which it was idle to attempt 
 by night. His scouting in this region was nice and narrow. 
 It was fruitless also, beyond the picking up of a couple more of 
 the fugitives, one of whom was wounded by a pistol-bullet. The 
 missing canoe led him to conjecture rightly the course which 
 Inglehardt had taken. The absence of the slave Julius ex 
 plained to the family the means by which the loyalist captain 
 had been extricated from his bonds, and conclusively showed 
 by whose agency the latter had been enabled to pick up so 
 many of the secrets of the household. The only hope of the 
 mother and sister, in respect to the safety of Henry Travis, lay 
 in the hoped-for discoveries which Sinclair might make at 
 Orangeburg. When this hope was expressed in the hearing of 
 Ballou he was silent. Afterward, he said to Bram, the only 
 comrade of the party to whom he condescended to utter his 
 opinions freely : 
 
 "No chance of that, Bram no chance. Inglehardt knows 
 better knows better. He s picked up the boy, somehow. 
 How. there s no telling jest yet; for you see, though we find 
 
446 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Inglehardt s track and the nigger s close to \vhcre the dugout 
 lay at the landing, we don t find no other. The boys ain t there 
 
 ain t there. But you see, we hain t found Hell-fire Dick 
 and we hain t found the Trailer, and it s clear they ve got ofl 
 got off. Now, can yeu guess how, Bram ? How ?" 
 
 " Nebber kin guess, Bullou." 
 
 " Well, did you see them tracks about the garden ?" 
 
 " I bin see for true." 
 
 " Very well. I ve got the measure of Hell-fire Dick and the 
 Trailer, and them s their tracks. Now, you see, they ve worked 
 off a-foot to yonder thick, and there you see where they had 
 their horces fastened there, now, they ve got a chance and 
 carried off the boy that s the how the how. None but horse 
 tracks after that, and such a crowd of em, there s no telling 
 which is which. If I had been a-foot, and me only, and in a 
 fair daylight, I might have taken the track of all of them all 
 of them. But this hunting by fire-light it only sarves to blind 
 one s own eyes, and to show the inimy how to skulk the better 
 
 skulk the better. Inglehardt and Dick and the Trailer, and 
 the boy, and maybe Captain Travis himself, are all off some 
 where together. The dugout could carry off three of them I 
 reckon, and they may have picked up another boat along the 
 river to carry off the whole. But what they ve done with the 
 horses there s no telling yet, and only one way to find out, and 
 I m for a search down along the river as far as Four-mile Branch 
 to see where they ve put in. For put in they must have done 
 somewhere. They never made down the road they never 
 made up. They swum the river, or found a ford, and we must 
 find out the how and the where. When we ve done that, we 
 can make a pretty sure guess as to what s become of them. 
 My notion is they ve crossed the horses, and dropped down the 
 river themselves, leaving one of the party to fetch a compass 
 through the woods and round the village with the horses." 
 
 " I speck you right, Ballou." 
 
 " I reckon I am. And now, Bram, I don t mean to take any 
 of you fellows along with me on this search. You, and these 
 dragoons, will stay here, and keep guard over the family, tell 
 you get your orders from the major. And jest you say to 
 Madam Travis and the young lady that I m hard after sign 
 
DOUBTS, HOPES, FEARS A TANGLED YARN. 447 
 
 [trail- track] and that I m mighty hopeful. Tell em there s no 
 danger of any harm coming to the lad, excepting the captivity 
 
 excepting the captivity. You kin tell her this jest as well a& 
 me, and, ^rehaps, a little better ; for I do hate to lie when I m 
 reporting about a scout, and if I see her a-weeping, and sobbing, 
 and wringing her hands, I know I shall have to lie as bad as 
 any regular trooper lie as bad as a trooper as a trooper! 
 
 and, Lord knows, lying comes as natural to a trooper as 
 mother s milk to an infant, or whiskey to a militiaman, or roast 
 pork to a famishing Christian nigger in cool weather. Now, 
 you hear, I don t forbid you to lie a little if you see the case 
 requires it if the griefs very hard to bear and you hear the 
 women a-screaming too bad. You may tell what bloody lie you 
 please to make em quiet, and strengthen their hearts, and make 
 em feel better, and fill em with hope fill em with hope. If 
 twant about scouting, I could lie to em too, as well as anybody ; 
 but a scout that don t see sign must n t say sign. Such a scout s 
 no better than a mangy dog that barks up the wrong tree a 
 mangy dog." 
 
 " Knock em on he head." 
 
 " Exactly ! He ain t fit to live. Now, Bram, you under 
 stand what you re to do and to say. You kin lie a bit, I tell 
 you, if you see that it will do the ladies good, and ease their 
 . .fictions, and you kin say that I m on the track, and that I ve 
 found sign, and that you reckon I ll have the boy back again in 
 a few "days a few days have him back. And I hope I will, 
 Bram, though I don t see the sign, and you re to stick to the 
 house, and keep a sharp eye about you, and wait the major s 
 orders and just you tell him that I ll keep out until I can make 
 a sensible report." 
 
 " I yerry !" 
 
 " Very well ! all right, so far. And now, Bram, do you see that ?" 
 
 Here he pulled a corpulent quart bottle from his coat pocket. 
 
 " Ha ! wha dat, Jim Ballou ? tis bottle." 
 
 " Well, you re a wise nigger, after seeing it, to g less so quick. 
 But, do you know what s in the bottle ?" 
 
 " I guess he whiskey. Ha ?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it. It s nothing worse, Bram, than good old 
 Jamaica. Smell of it, if you wish to be sartain." 
 
448 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " I kin tell em more better by de tas e." 
 
 "Well, if jou can t tell Jamaica by the smell, the liquor s 
 not the sort to do you any good by the taste." 
 
 " Psho, Jim Ballou, dat s berry foolish sawt o talk ! Whay 
 you git dat Jimmaker ?" 
 
 " Out of the pocket of the red-headed fellow that we found 
 half dead in the swamp this morning. I reckon he was bit with 
 the liquor before he got the bite of the bullet. You see that 
 there s a pretty considerable swig gone out of it ; and the cork 
 being a good one, I reckon it never went out of its own accord, 
 and only by word of command." 
 
 " Look yer, Jim Ballou, you guine to pull at that Jimmaker?" 
 
 " Bram, I d jest freely give my leetle finger now, cut off clean, 
 to swallow one good mouthful of this charming creature I 
 would my leetle finger for only one good mouthful. I 
 hankers for it, Bram. But I durstn t drink. I ve swore a 
 most etarnal oath, and it s as much as my soul s worth to taste 
 of the beautiful varmint. But you shall drink on my account, 
 and I ll charge to you. There ! take a swig. Is it good, Bram ?" 
 
 The negro s potation was deep ; the stream poured down 
 without a gurgle. The throat offered no resistance, and the 
 prudent hands of Ballou finally tore away the bottle from the 
 fellow s mouth. A smack of the lips, a long drawn sigh, and 
 suddenly humid eyes, attested Bram s satisfaction. 
 
 " Is it so sweet, nigger V 
 
 " Like de milk ob Heabben, Jim Ballou." 
 
 " You love it too much, Bram." 
 
 " You too, Ballou !" 
 
 " Yes, but I can t trust myself to taste. If I only taste, I m 
 gone. Can I trust you, Bram ?" 
 
 " Wha for no truss me ? leff de bottle wid me, Ballou." 
 
 " If you give me your word of honor, Bram, that you ll only 
 swallow one-half to-day, and t other half to-morrow." 
 
 " I sway ! " 
 
 " No ! don t you swear ! But just give me your word of 
 honor as I tell you. There s enough for you, two days, if you 
 drink like a gentleman." 
 
 " Psho ! for able-bodied pusson liVe me, Jim Ballou, de liquor 
 guine sarve only for one day " 
 
DOUBTS, HOPES, FEARS A TANGLED YARN. 449 
 
 11 Y"es, but you re to drink like a gentleman, not like an able- 
 bodied person a gentleman, Bram a gentleman." 
 
 "For two day, den, I must babe [behave] like gemplemans?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But s posing de young lady, Miss Bert a, say to me, yer 
 Bram, something to drink ?" 
 
 " Then you re to keep the Jamaica for another day." 
 
 " Ha ! Jim Ballou, you mighty hard pon dis riigger." 
 
 " You won t get it. until you promise. Remember, you rascal, 
 how /love it." 
 
 "I promise, Ballou ef I doesn t, you only guine to drink 
 em you se f and lose your spectability." 
 
 "Take it and put it out of my sight, Bram. It s mighty 
 hard work to keep my mouth from it. It s a sore trial of the 
 flesh sore a sore trial of the flesh. Hide it from my sight. 
 I m mighty weak and thirsty." 
 
 " I ll tink bout you when I drinks, Ballou. Hope twill do 
 you good, same as ef you bin drunk you se f." 
 
 " Thank you ! And now, Bram, keep your eyes bright, or 
 the Philistines will be upon you. Remember all I ve told you. 
 Good-by, old fellow ; I m going to put out this very minute. 
 Good-by ! Don t forget, if you see too much grief going on, 
 to put in a lie now and then about the sign." 
 
 " I member all wha you say." 
 
 And the two shook hands and parted the scout burying 
 himself at once in the recesses of the swamp, and Bram taking 
 his way toward the house, resolved upon any amount of lying, 
 if he thought that the afflictions of the ladies should need that 
 wholesome kind of sedative. 
 
 Meanwhile, Sinclair had startled all the echoes in Orange- 
 burg. It was night still, and very dark, when his cavalry 
 thundered up the streets. What could it mean ? Who could it 
 be? While the question was undecided, whig and tory kept 
 equally close. 
 
 Sinclair darted at once upon the jail. It was a sort of cita 
 del. The post of jailer was held by an invalided Scotch ser 
 geant, who veiy reluctantly threw open his doors to the rebel 
 troopers. The commissariat was soon emptied of arms and 
 immunition A score of rifles, as many of muskets, bayonets, 
 
450 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 a bale or two of blankets, and a variety of odds and ends in the 
 x\ ay of arms, implements, and clothing not too great a burden, 
 however, for the troopers to divide and carry off upon their sad 
 dles, rewarded the raid. Petty as was the spoil, it was of very 
 considerable importance to the Carolinians, half of whom were 
 bare at hip and elbow many only in part armed, and not a 
 few without any weapons The war of liberty rarely implies 
 adequate provision for its champions. 
 
 It was several hours after daylight before our major of dra 
 goons had sufficiently done his work in the village. Sixteen 
 wild Irish were extricated from the dungeon, charged with the 
 Irish virtue of mutiny and insubordination. Without asking 
 questions, they hailed their deliverer with a shout. He had 
 but one question to ask of them : 
 
 " Who are you for King George or freedom 1" 
 
 " Is it fradom, do you say ?" was the reply with one voice. 
 1 Och ! thin, the divil fly away with King George, and all the 
 other kings upon airth ! Hoorah for the fradom, and Ameriky 
 for iver !" 
 
 It was no use to expostulate with such ready converts to the 
 true faith, or to put them under any special ordeal for the trial 
 of their virtues. They were at once marched out into the open 
 air, and enrolled in the ranks. Then followed the search for 
 Inglehardt and his retainers and captives. But, after ransack- 
 ing all suspected places, to the no small terror of the lurking 
 loyalists, Sinclair was compelled to abandon the search in that 
 quarter. He was in despair. No trace of Inglehardt no 
 sign of Henry Travis." 
 
 Noon found him back at Holly-Dale. Bertha was the first to 
 hail his approach from the upper windows, and to rush out to 
 meet him. 
 
 " Oh ! Willie, what of Henry ?" 
 
 But she read his answer in his looks, and wrung her hands, 
 while the tears rolled down her cheeks. 
 
 " Nothing ! nothing ! Has Ballou made no discoveries ? 
 
 " He is gone in search. Bram says that he is on the track 
 that there are signs and that he is in hope of finding mm 
 He went alone. The soldiers are here." 
 
 And Bram ?" 
 
DOUBTS, HOPES, PEARS A TANGLED YARN. 451 
 
 " He is here also. Ballon preferred to go alone." 
 
 " He was right. Do not fear, Bertha. . Ballon will find him. 
 
 "But if .he is hurt, Willie?" 
 
 " No fear of that. He is evidently carried off. Inglehardi 
 has secured him while making his own escape." 
 
 " Have you had no signs of him ?" 
 
 " None ! He has probably got across, or gone down the 
 river ; but he can not escape us long, dear Bertha ; and, mean 
 while, there is no reason to suppose that he will harm the boy 
 His game, I see. It is his policy to save him, but to keep him, 
 and your father too, as pledges for you." 
 
 Here the mother joined them. 
 
 "My child, Sinclair my child!" 
 
 Her eyes were dry, but wild, red, fearful to behold. Sinclair 
 renewed his assurances, his encouragements, the expression of 
 his hopes, the grounds for their security. These hardly reached 
 or satisfied the senses of the mother. She could only repeat 
 
 " My child ! my child ! my poor, poor boy ! He was never 
 away from me one night in his life. And, now in what con 
 dition is he? in whose hands how suffering? Oh! Willie 
 Sinclair, will you not bring me back my boy ?" 
 
 " I would die to do so, my dear Mrs. Travis ! I will do all 
 that can be done !" 
 
 How feeble are all words, all promises, all expressed hopes, 
 in such a case, addressed to the ears of a mother ! 
 
 It was long before she could vary this one note, or speak or 
 think of other things. But, suddenly, she grasped Sinclair by 
 the wrist : 
 
 " It was this danger that he feared ! He would have provided 
 for this very chance ! Hear me, Willie. You have my hus 
 band s letter. I am aware of what it contains. He bade me 
 follow all its instructions in the event of his failure to return 
 yesterday. You remember what they are ?" 
 
 Sinclair nodded his head affirmatively. 
 
 " You are to have all the negroes transferred immediately to 
 the Santee plantation. Bertha and myself are to follow them 
 as soon as possible, and she is to become your wife if you 
 are prepared for it without a moment s delay." 
 
 The cheeks of Bertha grew to crimson. 
 
452 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " His letter to me," answered Sinclair, " is to this very effect, 
 I have planned the mode, and hav"e the means, for conveying 
 the negroes and your most valuable moveables to a place of se 
 curity. Kit Howe undertakes to convey your furniture to his 
 plantation. Your husband has sent me his signature to a bill 
 of sale, conveying it absolutely to Howe. It may thus be 
 saved. In your absence, the tories will probably destroy your 
 house. Your cattle I shall have transferred to Greene s army. 
 Your horses, except such as you need for your own purposes, I 
 will take on account of the state for our troopers, several of 
 whom have none. You will need but four for your journey to 
 the Santee ; and the sooner you set out the better, since escape, 
 in two days more, will be next to impossible ; Rawdon s army 
 being in progress from the Oongaree, Colonel Stewart from 
 Charleston, and Cruger with a swarm of loyalists from above, 
 and pressing down upon the route to Orange/burg between the 
 two Edistos. They will pass your door. Your policy will be 
 to force your way between Rawdon and Stewart, before they 
 can effect a junction." 
 
 "But how can I leave Holly-Dale, Willie, and no tidings of 
 my child ?" 
 
 " You need not remain on this account. I shall see that 
 tidings reach you, wherever you are, as soon as we obtain 
 them. In remaining here, you know not what you risk. All 
 this region will be under the control of the enemy, until we can 
 come to blows with him, and, should we fail, you will be more 
 at th e mercy of the foe than ever." 
 
 It was a hard task with the mother to leave Holly-Dale 
 while her son s fate was doubtful. 
 
 " Oh ! Willie, should he return, the poor boy, and find no 
 body to recieve him !" 
 
 Of course, this notion of his voluntary return was combated 
 as a great improbability, by Sinclair. 
 
 " He will not be suffered the chance to escape, my dear Mrs. 
 Travis, by those who have him in captivity. I have no doubt 
 that the same person who has carried off the father, has the son 
 in custody also. I make no doubt they are both together. 
 Neither will reappear, until brought back by Inglehardt, or 
 until rescued by his foes. We shall spare nothing for the latter 
 
FEARS A TANGLED YARN. 453 
 
 object; and you need not wait here for the former. Whenever 
 t is Inglehardt s cue to restore your son and husband, he will 
 find no difficulty in doing so, go where you will. And go you 
 must ! Pardon rne this earnestness, but you must suffer me to 
 be master now. Submit confide in me, dear Mrs. Travis 
 as the mother in her son." 
 
 "And you will be my son? Yes, Willie, I submit I con 
 fide! God be merciful to me, Willie! under him, I have 
 now no hope but in you !" 
 
 She threw her arms about his neck and sobbed upon his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " And how, and when shall the marriage take place, Willie ?" 
 
 Bertha s cheeks flushed once more to crimson at the question, 
 and she was turning away when the answer of Sinclair arrested 
 her. 
 
 " There can be no marriage now, my dear Mrs. Travis. That 
 is just now impossible." 
 
 Red and pale alternately did the cheeks of Bertha become 
 in a single moment pride and shame both active at a word 
 Mrs. Travis withdrew her hands from the affectionate rest 
 which they had taken on Sinclair s shoulder 
 
 " How, sir, no marriage ?" 
 
 "None just now, my dear mother ; and you, Bertha" 
 here lie caught her hand "do not you misunderstand me! 
 No gift could be nuore precious to me than this hand, now and 
 for ever ! But I dare not, for your sakes, clasp it in marriage 
 now ! Were I to do so, we should lose all hold on Inglehardt 
 forfeit every hope of safety for Mr. Travis, if not for Henry. 
 Such an act would precipitate the fate of one or both. It would 
 cut Inglehardt off from that object, for which he keeps both of 
 them in captivity. Were we married, he would at once sacri 
 fice your husband to the fury of Balfour. He would expose 
 those seeiets whicii now give him a hold upon your father, and 
 would denounce him, as the possibility no longer remained of 
 securing the daughter through the terrors which he would seek 
 to inspire in regard to the father s fate. While there is still a 
 prospect of obtaining your hand, your father is safe. Cut off 
 that prospect, and we have no security." 
 
454 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " But it was even this very state of tilings, his arrest and cap 
 tivity, which my husband anticipated." 
 
 " True, my dear madam, and his commands, contemplating 
 this prospect, afford a generous example of self-sacrifice, and 
 are highly honorable ; but he never once contemplated the 
 capture and detention of his son. He never dreaded that the 
 son s fate, no less than his own, rested upon the disposition of 
 his daughter s hand. Heaven knows nay, Bertha knows 
 that no blessing of Heaven could be more grateful to my soul 
 than the instant possession of this dear girl s hand ; but when 
 I see the peril which it involves, to father and son alike, I dare 
 not touch it I dare not espouse her! We must wait! We 
 are at the mercy of this base, cold-blooded villain, and you both 
 know him only too well, to need that I should say, that our 
 marriage would be fatal to the safety of Mr. Travis, and possi 
 bly to that of our dear boy, Henry." 
 
 " God be merciful !" groaned the mother, as the true situation 
 in which she stood became apparent to her understanding. 
 " God be merciful to me a mother ! Oh ! Willie Sinclair, I 
 have ceased to think. I can only feel and fear. Do with me 
 as you please. Give your orders. I obey. I submit without 
 question only tell me that you will save my husband that 
 you will give me back my boy." 
 
 " If human will and effort may do this, mother, at any haz 
 ard, it shall be done. Bertha, you do not doubt me 1 You are 
 not angry ?" 
 
 "Doubt you, Willie angry with you! No! no! I trust 
 you as my own soul. I love you as my life. Believe me ! 
 believe me, Willie. Though we never marry, Willie Sinclair, 
 I am still yours, yours only !" 
 
 And the ingenuous girl flung her arms about her lover s neck. 
 Hid kissed him as if he had been a brother. There was nr 
 longer a doubt a cloud a shadow between their lovevp 
 
FLIGHT FT?OM HOLLY-PALE. 465 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 FLIGHT FROM HOLLY-DALE. 
 
 THE plans of the family having been satisfactorily discussed 
 that afternoon between the two ladies and Sinclair, the latter 
 gathered the negroes of the plantation together early that night, 
 and made them a little speech. Bram was formally introduced 
 to them as their friend and guide. They were to travel under 
 his direction. They were told, as were the Israelites of old, 
 that the Santee country was the land of milk and honey or 
 rather of molasses, corn in abundance, any number of pigs, and 
 coon and possum beyond any computation. A negro so rel 
 ishes a change that he will even forget the charms of a first, for 
 a second or even a third and fourth wife, and is always pre 
 pared for new lodgings. You can scarcely remove him too 
 frequently for his own satisfaction. He is a creature of great 
 levity, steadfast in nothing, except appetite, and feels more fully 
 than any other people that moral of the vulgar " Omne igno- 
 tum pro magmfico /" The unknown is to him always a Canaan 
 of unqualified delights. 
 
 The fraternity seemed very well pleased with the prospect as 
 painted to them by Sinclair, but lest anything should be want 
 ing in his delineations, Bram himself took up the parole, where 
 his master finished, and discoursed to them after his own fashion 
 of eloquence. 
 
 " Yerry to me, brudderen, and you, my belubl ,>d sisteren, be 
 so good as to yerry to wha I hab for say. L uckrah know 
 someting, but Ve dun no ebbryting. Maussa, de major, is a bery 
 sensible gemplemans, but he ain t always know de reasonable 
 occasions and argymentations for mek de ting clear and compre 
 hensible to de infections and onderstandings of a regenerate 
 nigger. Now, you see, Bram hab all he niaussa sense, da s 
 
1HE POftAfBKb. 
 
 white man sense, and lie Lab all nigger sense besides, and da s 
 he own. De ting wha he tell you is no mo dan de massi- 
 ful trute : but he s no tell you half ob de good ting and de 
 pleasure of dat same country pon de Santee. Bram knows 
 em better dan de major know he book. When you git to dat 
 country you nebber kin dead. For who guine dead so long as 
 fat pig day run ebbry way onder he eye? You see fat pig dat 
 run bout yer pon de Edisto, squeaking as he run, Come roas 
 me come roas me? I ax you, brudderen and sisteren, how 
 long sense you bin see sich purty critter as dat a running yer 
 pon de Edisto ?" 
 
 Here a grunt and murmur from the crowd. 
 
 " Well, you know wha s yer, and you know wha ain t yer ! 
 But / know wha s a waiting for you pon de Santee. Yer, de 
 sodger, Whig and tory, eat up de pig nebber le em grow 
 to running fat; dar, on de Santee, de pig is so plenty dat dat 
 he eat up de sodger !" 
 
 " Ki ! de Lawd ha massy. Oh ! da !" 
 
 " It s a trute. De pig dar is so fat and sassy, dat he fair ax 
 you for eat em. He dun no wha for do wid hese f. You jis 
 nab for knock em down as he run for sabe you se f. Ef you 
 don t, you wake up in de morning, and you ain t fin yourse f 
 tall only leettle eend o youse f de pig is eat de res ." 
 
 " Ki ! de Lawd delibber us ! Who ebber yer ob sich country 
 befo ." 
 
 " It s a trute, my sisteren. But de pig ain t all. De cawn 
 grow jis at de bery sight ob de hoe ; de chicken crow jis as 
 he shak off de shell ; de simmon [persimmon] so tick, dat you 
 kin catch twenty-seben and fifteen possum and coon a night on 
 de same tree ; and der s no eend to sich eatable leettle varmints 
 as de squirll and rabbit. Dem you knocks ober wid little stick 
 when you is walking bout in de sunset." 
 
 A pause giving opportunity to the full and fervid expres 
 sion of applause. 
 
 " An it s p inted for me, brudderen and sisteren, Bram, to 
 show you de way to dat most blessed splendiferous country ob 
 meat and molasses. And jis you follow me do de ting I tell 
 you _ lie close when 1 say Nigger s, dem dam tory is about ; 
 and push forward, quick as runner [black snake] when I say 
 
FLIGHT FROM HOLLY-DALE. 457 
 
 Now s de time for shaking de rheumatic out ob de legs and 
 I carries you safe I tell you, to dat lieabben ob a country. Is 
 you willing, I axes ? brudderen and sisteren, le me yer from 
 you. Is you willing to eat pig ? Da s de fuss question." 
 
 The acclarnatory and affirmative grunt was unanimous. 
 
 " Meat and molasses ; coon and possum ; pork and purtatoes ; 
 hog and hom ny ; lightwood a plenty, and de beautifullest and 
 tickest swamp in de wo ld. Enty dese is excelling beautiful 
 tings for sensible nigger?" 
 
 The eloquence of Bram was irresistible. He supplied all 
 the deficiencies in the argument of Sinclair. 
 
 That night the whole force of the plantation leaving only 
 the coachman, cook, and one maid-servant, who were destined 
 to attend the ladies when they went disappeared before mid 
 night. A little covered wagon contained the children, and the 
 provisions necessary for the support of the whole party along 
 the route. Bram had his instructions. He was to travel only 
 by night ; to lie close in swamp or thicket during the day ; to 
 avoid the great thoroughfares ; use neighborhood roads or open 
 pine woods when he could, and strike for the ferry known as 
 Nelson s. It was feared that the upper ferries, might be in 
 possession of the enemy. His route was to be sinuous, and he 
 was not to hurry forward in the face of any risk. His supply 
 of provisions was ample for an encampment of ten days. We 
 need but add, that Bram was equal to the task, and knew all 
 the sinuosities of the country. He was also scout enough to 
 know how to take cover in season, and he rarely forgot his 
 precaution. Leaving him to pursue his course according to his 
 0-wn discretion, Sinclair addressed himself to such duties as 
 remained to him at Holly-Dale. 
 
 The morning after Brain s departure, St. Julien rode in with 
 his troopers. His report showed him to have been busy. He had 
 dispersed a small gathering of tories at Dean s swamp, securing 
 a few prisoners, and a score or two of broad swords and rifles 
 Coulter, it seems, had had a brush with the black dragoons of Cap 
 tain Quash, had cut up a score of them, and in a personal encoun 
 ter with Quash, had the satisfaction of cropping off one of his ears, 
 in a well -intended sabre-strrkc at his head. Quash was a negro, 
 captain jf one qf the few corps of negroes whom the British had 
 
 20 
 
458 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 ventured to uniform. He had a very pretty command, sable 
 and scarlet, of forty-five troopers, but though runaways and 
 ruffians, they were not found very serviceable, being always 
 more successful in the onslaught upon a hen-roost than upon any 
 game customers. 
 
 The arrival of St. Julien enabled Sinclair to furnish a proper 
 escort for the ladies in their progress to the Santee. This had 
 been a subject of some embarrassment with him till this moment, 
 since the orders of Marion and Rutledge required his own pres 
 ence at camp. Great events were ripening, and the necessities 
 of Greene and his policy, required that he should draw his forces 
 to a head, in order to a demonstration upon Rawdon, who, it 
 was now understood, was embarrassed in various ways was 
 himself an invalid with troops exhausted by forced marches 
 in midsummer, and not a few of them very much indisposed to 
 the service. The Irish troops at once raw and mutinous, were 
 a great source of uneasiness and apprehension. 
 
 It may be necessary, at this stage of our narrative, and for 
 the better comprehension of its details in future, to take a brief 
 survey of the relative condition of the two great warring parties 
 in the state. We have seen that Rawdon, after relieving the 
 post of Ninety-Six, has been compelled to abandon it. His 
 resources did not suffer him to retain a position so remote from 
 the seaboard, which he could not adequately garrison ; and he 
 well knew that, as soon as he should begin his return to the Lower 
 Country, the several American forces would again concentrate 
 about the position, the fall of which would then be inevitable, 
 and would lose to him a body of troops, which his present exi 
 gency would not suffer him to spare. Accordingly, calling 
 around him the loyalist chiefs of the precinct, a fierce and hardy 
 class with numerous followers, he advised them of the necessity 
 which required that he should abandon the place. This was 
 equivalent to their abandonment to a fate which their own 
 provocations well assured them would be a merciless one. The 
 alternative that remained to them was flight. They recognised 
 the melancholy necessity, and prepared with their wives and 
 little ones to depart from their ancient homesteads. To cover 
 their departure from the American patriots, Rawdon left behind 
 him one half of his army, from twelve to fifteen hundred men, 
 
FLIGHT FROM HOLLY-DAi^. 459 
 
 under the conduct of Cruger, tlie colonel who had so long, and 
 with so much courage and ability, defended the post of Ninety- 
 Shr.. This force was to follow him as soon as the fugitive people 
 were prepared for their painful exodus. No long time was 
 needed for preparation, in fact could not be "allowed, since they 
 had every reason to apprehend the early return of the American 
 army. Rawdon, meanwhile, set out with a rapidity of move 
 ment which almost threatened the destruction of his army 
 fifty of his men falling dead in their tracks, during a five-days 
 tnaich, the victims to the terrible heat of the season, and that 
 legree of fatigue which admitted of no recuperation. His course 
 once ascertained, his force was such as might be controlled readily 
 by that of Greene. To escape this danger was one reason for 
 the rapidity of his march. His further purpose was co-opera 
 tion, by a particular day, with Colonel Stewart, who, with a 
 large detachment and convoy of provisions, was instructed, 
 marching from Charleston, via Orangeburg, to meet him at 
 Granby by the third of July. Cruger, meanwhile, was already 
 on the march from Ninety-Six, and directing his columns for 
 the route between the Edistos on the way to Orangeburg. 
 
 With the first knowledge of the course taken by Rawdon, 
 Greene s army was put in motion to overtake him. At Winns- 
 borough, the American general disembarrassed his pursuit of 
 all unnecessary baggage, of everything that might impede his 
 progress, and, under the command of General Huger, the army 
 pressed forward for the Congarees. Greene, himself, with a small 
 iscort of cavalry moving in advance of his army, with special ce 
 lerity in the hope of finding the command of Colonel Washington 
 (cavalry) with which, and other resources, he meditated a special 
 enterprise against the convoy and re-enforcements designed for 
 the relief of Rawdon. 
 
 The latter, alarmed at these movements, increased the celerity 
 of his own, and reached Granby two days sooner than he ex 
 pected, and accordingly long before Colonel Stewart could 
 possibly reach the same place. Intercepted letters had apprized 
 the Americans that Stewart could not make the junction with 
 his superior at the contemplated time. Meanwhile, the American 
 cavalry, in which arm the patriots held a vast superiority, 
 had suet ceded in cutting that of the British to pieces, a disaster 
 
460 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 which rendered Rawdon far more uneasy and apprehensiv* 
 than before. Up to the occurrence of this event his policy had 
 been adopted to establish himself upon the Congaiee, circum 
 scribing his operations in the interior to the space comprised 
 within the Edisto to the west, and the Congaree and Santee to 
 the north and east. But, with the loss of his cavalry, the failure 
 to procure provisions or intelligence for the foray ers of Marion 
 and Sumter swept all the highways the audacity of tlia 
 American cavalry, the rapid approach of the hostile army, and 
 by this time advised of the inability of Stewart to meet him at 
 the time appointed, Lord Rawdon felt that the power was no 
 longer in his hands which would enable him to choose his owu 
 position. It became necessary that he should press down to 
 ward Orangeburg with all despatch, if he would save his de 
 tachments, or escape the dangers which were accumulating 
 about himself. His situation was becoming desperate, and the 
 forced marches which he was required to undertake, in which 
 so many of his troops succumbed, were necessary to the safety 
 of his whole force. 
 
 To place himself in advance of Rawdon, with all his mounted 
 men, dart below and strike at Stewart and his convoy, on their 
 advance from Charleston, was the obvious policy of Greene. 
 Wanting in cavalry, the British general had no means of ar 
 resting or retarding this progress, for the proper performance 
 of which Greene proceeded to put all his resources in requisi 
 tion. Lee was to hasten to a junction with Washington, and 
 Sumter and Middleton were to co-operate in the same object- 
 the destruction of Stewart. It would be curious to the military 
 student, and highly instructive, to see how these plans, well 
 conceived as they were, all ultimately failed ; and chiefly through 
 that lack of method and due subordination of the agents and 
 accessories to the principal, which is the chief vice in militia 
 and volunteer organizations. Neither Middleton nor Lee joined 
 Washington, and the latter employed himself, almost unneces 
 sarily, in front of Rawdon s advance, endeavoring fruitlessly 
 to retard his march. Sumter was engaged above in .an inde 
 pendent enterprise on the Catawba, and when Washington was 
 finally diverted from harassing the march of Rawdon, and 
 sought the co-operation of M. irion, tlio time hud passed. Hut 
 
FLIGHT FROM HOLLY-DALE. 461 
 
 we must not anticipate. Marion, with four hundred mounted 
 men made liis appearance at Washington s headquarters with 
 wonlerful promptness. Greene arrived soon after, and taking 
 command of their united forces, he resolved to lead the enter 
 prise against Stewart in person. Pressing down the Orangeburg 
 road, on the sixth of July, he succeeded in passing Rawdon, 
 and reserving to himself a company of Washington s cavalry, 
 with which to watch the progress of the British army, he des 
 patched Marion with his mounted men to the encounter with 
 Stewart. 
 
 This brings us to the period of pause in our story. At the 
 moment, therefore, when it became necessary for Mrs. Travis 
 and her daughter to quit Holly-Dale, six separate bodies of 
 troops, each considerable in number, were approaching the 
 precinct ; the purpose of all being equally concentred in our 
 little village of Orangeburg. Rawdon and Cruger from above- 
 each with twelve or fifteen hundred regular troops, the latter 
 accompanied by a swarm of auxiliary loyalists ; Stewart from 
 below, with a detachment of five hundred, the strength and 
 utility of which were necessarily curtailed by the encumbrance 
 of a lengthened convoy ; Marion s and Washington s com 
 mands ; the main army of the Americans, under Huger, follow 
 ing close upon the heels of Rawdon ; while Pickens, with a 
 force of mounted gun-men, was equally earnest in pressing upon- 
 the heels of Cruger. These details will sufficiently answer to 
 show the reader by what influences the action of our dramatis 
 personse is liable to be controlled, what are the embarrassments 
 before them, and what the succoring agencies upon which they 
 may call, in the moment of exigency. They will also explain 
 the urgency of that necessity which required Sinclair to make 
 his way to tlie camp, subduing his feelings, and foregoing his 
 own purposes, in obedience to those of the country. 
 
 It was with no pleasant emotions that he prepared to depart 
 from the pleasant homestead which still contained for him so 
 many precious associations. Love and, dragoon as he was, 
 he was by no means insensible to the tenderest infirmities of 
 that all-subjugating passion; apprehension for how could 
 he anticipate the events which were to occur, of annoyance 
 or positi e danger, accompanying the doubtful progress of hii 
 
462 THE FORAYEKS. 
 
 sweetheart and her mother across the country? <*i ef , 
 
 anxiety for tho loss and absence of Henry Travis, of whose 
 fate nothing could be known these were sufficient to afflict 
 And render our major of dragoons unhappy, without ever 
 glancing at the minor cares and embarrassments which yet 
 taxed his mind and increased his apprehensions as, for ex 
 ample, the progress of the negroes of Travis, under the guidance 
 of Abram. True, Abram was faithful, and shrewd beyond the 
 usual capacity and virtues of his race; but, though a good 
 scout, he was a poor soldier, and the only calculations which 
 could be predicated of this trust must rest wholly on the natural 
 cunning of the fellow, his fidelity, and perfect knowledge of the. 
 woods. 
 
 Sinclair, of course, used all his resources and exercised all 
 his forethought in order to meet the various duties before him. 
 His jiancte and her mother he intrusted to the charge of one 
 whom he knew to be a brave and good soldier and a noble gen 
 tleman ; in respect to Henry Travfc, Jim Ballon, the best scout 
 in the service, was upon his trail ; and he had no reason to doubt 
 that Bram could worm his way across the country, so as to 
 escape the troops of Stewart on the one hand and the forces of 
 R.iwdon on the other. These were the chief dangers that 
 threatened to cross his path. Of outlying parties of the tories 
 .he had little fear whenever the main armies were in the pre 
 cinct. On such occasions the forayers usually disappeared, or 
 melted away, and became merged in the greater masses; as is 
 the case usually with outsiders, or third parties in politics, 
 when an election (which is a battle) approaches. At all events, 
 whether satisfied with his arrangements or not, Sinclair was 
 compelled to be content with what had been done, and, having 
 given his last instructions to St. Julien, to prepare for his own 
 hurried departure for camp. A select troop of twenty-five 
 men was left with St. Julien, while the residue, somewhat 
 swollen by recruits from the troop of Inglehardt, he reserved 
 for his own command. 
 
 It was a trying moment, that which called for the departure 
 of Sinclair from Holly-Dale. Bertha Travis was a damsel .of 
 great strength of character, great serenity of mood, calm ja 
 tient, resolute, yet loving and docile. She inherited these 
 
PLIGHT FBOM HOLLY-DALE. 46S 
 
 from lier mother. Neither of them gave way utterly to theii 
 sorrows, yet felt them so much the more acutely. They had 
 surely sufficient cause to mourn. In hjw few hours had their 
 home of pleasantness and peace been changed to one of anxiety, 
 grief, and apprehension. Sinclair could fee" for them. Per 
 haps, of all three, he showed the most despondency at parting. 
 The first burst of grief over, the mother grew to hope. Hex- 
 prayer now was for performance. Could she be doing now 
 could i^he engage in the search after her son an idea that 
 more than once agitated her brain she would have been easier 
 in spirit. As it was, she could only implore Sinclair to activity, 
 and he he could only promise, with, possibly, so many men 
 tal reservations, none of which he dared to express that the 
 promise might well be regarded as a dream. But he did prom 
 ise, and with the full purpose to perform. He was no laggard, 
 no sham of a man ; but earnest, daring, resolute. Be sure that 
 he will attempt do if possible much more than he ever 
 promises. 
 
 And Bertha 1 Oh ! how calmly, sweetly, resignedly, she 
 murmured her farewell upon his shoulder in hid very bosom 
 It might be the last. Poor Bertha ! She too thought to be 
 doing. Oh ! if she were but a man ! Yet the thought as she 
 looked upon Sinclair, seemed something worse than an absurd 
 ity. Yet she schooled it into a subdued desire to be with him 
 to see him perform the tasks of manhood strike for her 
 brother rescue the dear boy from the enemy from his mis 
 erable captivity. It was the prime source and secret of her 
 strength and calmness, that she never once doubted he would 
 do this. Oh ! that precious faith of the loving young heart thnt 
 confides so much in the being whom it loves that believes him 
 equal to all emergencies that finds heroism in his look and 
 gesture, and, in every period has no doubt that the world pos 
 sesses at least one demigod. 
 
 How silent, sad, precious sweet, was their parting, as Sin 
 clair rode off with his troop at break of day. 
 
 "Willie," was the murmur of the dear girl, "oh! Willie, 
 remember my poor mother. She looks to you." 
 
 " I will never forget her." 
 
 Tha last words of the mother: 
 
464 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Willie Sinclair, bring me back my boy my boy !" 
 
 They rang in the ears of our major of dragoons at every stop 
 which increased the distance between him and Holly-Dale. 
 
 And he was gone gone from sight and then, in the soli 
 tude of her chamber, Bertha Travis shed bitter, bitter tears. It 
 was only with his departure that she grew hopeless. But the 
 mother s hopes seemed to grow with his absence. 
 
 " He will bring Henry back," she murmured to Bertha, in 
 the lowest tones, as if she feared that the walls would hear and 
 interpose. 
 
 The next day, in the stately family carriage, drawn by fou. 
 stout blooded bays, and driven by Cato, of great frame and 
 bulk, and singular in the possession of one eye only, Mrs- 
 Travis, her daughter and maid, took their departure from Holly- 
 Dale, under the escort of St. Julien. We must not at present 
 think to note their course, or follow their fortunes. This con 
 cern will employ us possibly hereafter. Meanwhile, even then, 
 the advance of Cruger, consisting of mounted loyalists, hungry 
 and sullen, was entering the territory lying between the two 
 Edistos, and pressing down . toward Orangeburg. That day, 
 i)ld Kit Rowe carried of the chattels which he had purchased, 
 under secret articles. Three nights afterward Holly-Dale was 
 in aaben. So mrch for the tender mercies of the, 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 
 
 OHAPTEH XL. 
 
 THL SCCJT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 
 
 JIM BALLOU swept the swamp forest tract lying between 
 Holly-Dale and Four-Mile creek, with the close and eager eye 
 of a hawk. Nothing escaped his scrutiny. lie could find very 
 decided signs, where you and I would see nothing but smooth 
 surface. We can not detail his process, or follow all his steps, 
 or note the thousand minutise which drew his attention, or di 
 verted it, as he sped. It will suffice if we mention that in re 
 viewing the route over which the scouting party had gone the 
 night before, he at length found the lay where Inglehardt -had 
 established his rendezvous, and on the edge of which, where 
 the Trailer had held Travis in durance vile. He saw that some 
 uses had been made of the place. He noted where the steeds 
 of the fugitives had been fastened. He followed the course 
 which they had been conducted when finally carried off, until 
 he reached the creek, and under the fringy willows along it; 
 margin, discovered where the dugout had been run up, with hex 
 nose stuck lightly into the pliant ooze of the swamp. He iden 
 tified the impression as the same with that made by the dugout 
 at Holly-Dale. He had thus gained one step. He did not lose 
 it. He now noted all the impressions of the miry tract about 
 him. He found where the horses had been led down to the 
 spot where the creek enters the river, and into the river when 
 made to swim or wade across beside the boat. He examined 
 especially the tracks of the horses. Each one was found to have 
 some distinguishing mark by which it could be tracked hereafter 
 In one iii particular, a fragment of the shoe was gone. In an 
 other, the rivet was awkwardly curled and obtrusive ; in a third, 
 a nail was wanting. He so studied each that recognition would 
 instantly follow his encounter with them on any future occasion 
 
 20* 
 
466 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 He found the tracks of Inglehardt and the negro boy Julius, 
 arid there were the huge feet, broad as an elephant s, of Devii 
 Dick, and there were the long narrow footprints of the Trailer. 
 
 " Got em all here [ all here !" said the soliloquizing scout, 
 with a chuckle of sal isfaction. " If I could only keep em now ! 
 They ve crossed! that s clear for they couldr t be taking the 
 nags down stream nor up. They ve crossed ! And good reason 
 for it too good reason. This side the river was too hot for em. 
 Well, they ve crossed. But do they stick there! That s the 
 question question. I must nose em out before I walk into 
 their camp - nose em out \ Must wait till dark dark; then 
 swhn across swim. put in a leetle above then snake down 
 upon em snake down from above. I see just where to put 
 in just ; the old ford will answer. But shall I want my horse? 
 I reckon. They ll put out, and I must after em. Yes, must 
 have the horse. So ! we ll see if nobody s found the old fellow 
 out in his hiding-place. Found him out. We ll take the ford, 
 hide the critter above, snake down and nose em out. Got their 
 measure all. Devil Dick s foot, Inglehardt s, Trailer s, nig 
 ger s. Must see I don t find em too sudden. Four to one 
 four. But I can snake J em. It s only a fool nigger that grunts 
 as lie goes hog fashion grunts as he goes. The dog that 
 hunts the deer has a reason for giving tongue : but where its 
 wolf or tiger, set the teeth down, fast as a trap, even if you bite 
 off the tongue. Snake down, and nose close ; nose close and 
 snake down. Got the measure of every rascal s foot in all the 
 gang every rascal s foot." 
 
 We suppose that everybody can gather Ballou s policy from 
 his soliloquy. He resolved upon his course, while gazing from 
 close covert, a little before sunset, across the Edisto to the 
 point opposite the mouth of Four-Mile Branch. He noted with 
 understanding eye, every detail which might possibly affect In8 
 future operations. 
 
 " They ve struck inside that bank t other side. They ve 
 pushed for the close thicket behind i* There s a great dead 
 cypress just over it, with one big arm p inting out down the 
 river. I must look out for that cypress. It stands just over a 
 mighty big laurel, and I reckon its sandy and swampy about 
 all hammocky. Good for snaking." 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 4G? 
 
 A couple of hours enabled him to find his horse in the thicket 
 where he had hidden him, and afforded him the darkness requisite 
 for his safe progress across the river. Fastening his horse in the 
 swamp over a mile above the place of supposed harborage of the 
 fugitives and their captives, Ballou proceeded to "snake down" 
 upon their camp. 
 
 His calculations had proved correct in most particulars. He 
 found his dead cypress, his living laurel, his hammocky harboring 
 places, and the spot where the horses had been landed. But 
 the birds had flown. Their nests were all warm the trail was 
 fresh "hot" as Ballou phrased it but they themselves had 
 disappeared. Ballou slept that night in the camp which they 
 had deserted. The further pursuit of his game required day 
 light. 
 
 With the dawn he was at work on hands and knees, identifying 
 the tracks of the fugitives. He found them all ; found the traces of 
 two boats upon the bank instead of one, and traced the course of 
 the horses for a hundred yards up the river. He then began to 
 reason out the logical issues from his facts. 
 
 A good scout is a good logician. His premises found, he will 
 work out the results in a manner to put to shame half the lawyers in 
 the land. Ballou said : 
 
 "Now, we have em again, certain. If we can only keep em 
 now. What was they to do? Here was Willie Sinclair dash 
 ing down with a smart troop upon Orangeburg ; another party 
 up at Holly-Dale: there was no safety up or, down for a mat 
 ter of five miles. A party of four can t stop long, with an 
 inimy s troop each side of em. They ve dropped below, most 
 of em, in the canoes, and gone down from ten to twenty miles. 
 They ve made a fetch round Oraugeburg with the horses, and 
 I reckon two men s carried them round, and two have gone 
 down with the prisoners. They ve just gone fur enough to be 
 out of reach from a dash, and not too fur for the men that have 
 the horses to get to them by daylight. That s not more than 
 ten miles I reckon. Then they ve land i on this side ; for you 
 sec, they won t want to be crossing the horses to t other side; 
 there s no sense in taking such useless trouble; and then, it s 
 natural sense and reason that Ingleiardt will be for keeping this 
 side, where he can soonest make Orangeburg, and be safest out- 
 
468 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 of the way of Coulter, ten miles below. They could drop down 
 there in three hours easy. They ve made their calculations. 
 I reckon they cut loose three hours before daylight. They ve 
 got a day s start of me. Well ! It s to be done. I must fol 
 low the horses, for a boat leaves so narrow a trail on the water 
 that it s mighty hard to find it in hot weather in hot weather/ 1 
 
 And he took the track of the horses. 
 
 " Lord," said he, as he noted the course thus pursued by the 
 Fugitives, and how nigh it had taken them to Orangeburg 
 " Lord ! if Willie Sinclair had only knowd what I know ! How 
 he could ha gobbled em up ever) rr other s son of em. Only 
 half a mile from the village, sneaking round, just, I reckon, 
 when he was a gutting it ! Oh ! the blindness of these dragoon 
 soldiers. They re fit for nothing but a charge nothing but a 
 
 And, soliloquizing at every half turn, our scout stole forward 
 through swamp and thicket, never once losing the trail upon 
 which he had" fastened, until it led him into the deepest swamps 
 of the river about ten miles below the village. As soon as he 
 found the trail turning certainly down to the river, he sought 
 out a close thicket and harbored his horse securely. The rest 
 of his scrutiny in the precinct required to be pursued on foot. 
 He had not once lost the trail. It led him to the river s edge. 
 He saw where the two boats had left the measure of their 
 prows upon the banks. He noted once more the footsteps of 
 the party. But the camp was again deserted. The fugitives 
 were vigilant. He followed their progress upward to the high 
 land saw where they had passed into the main road one 
 of the avenues from Charleston to the village and where 
 they were lost, utterly indistinguishable from the thousand 
 tracks of horse, and mule, and cattle, man and beast, which 
 makes of the route through a light soil in the piney regions, a 
 mere sinuous stripe of sand, in which one impression with the 
 help of the breeze rapidly effaces another. Inglehardt and his 
 party were no doubt somewhere abroad in the world of space 
 and swamp and forest, but where ? Our scout no doubt sum 
 moned up the echoes to his soliloquy, but he did not look to 
 them for his response. He had once more to look to his logic. 
 
 Meanwhile, let us look back, and endeavor to supply the do 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 469 
 
 tails which our scout, with all his sagacity, could not altogethei 
 grasp in his conjectures with regard to the progress of the fu 
 gitives. When Inglehardt and his party were all safely landed 
 on the opposite side of the river the night when they were so 
 closely pressed by Sinclair s scouts, he at once called his com 
 panions into consultation. The result of this conversation, was 
 to put their captives into their two boats one having been 
 found on the opposite shore. The father and son, equally ig 
 norant of each other s condition were still kept apart, and placed 
 in separate vessels. In one of these Inglehardt bestowed him 
 self j the other was confided to Dick of Tophet. To the Trailer 
 and Julius, the negro, were allotted the task of bringing down 
 the horses. Armed each with a paddle, Inglehardt and Dick 
 set their skiffs in motion. The labor was small, the paddle 
 being used rather to guide than to work the vessels, the current 
 propelling them downward at an average rate of four miles an 
 Irour. They reached a point agreed on, some time before the 
 Trailer and his horses, landed themselves and their captives, 
 the latter still kept separate, and suffered the boats to make 
 their farther way down stream as they might. They housed 
 themselves in a thicket, laid their captives in silence under sep 
 arate trees, and stretched themselves out for rest if not foi 
 slumber. It was an hour after daylight before the Trailer 
 made his appearance, with Julius and the horses. 
 
 It was with a stubborn silence, and the noble fortitude of a 
 soldier, not unprepared for reverses, that Captain Travis bore 
 up under his captivity, and during the long period of humilia 
 tion, when, no longer a free agent in any respect, kept in com 
 plete ignorance of any of the facts in his condition except his 
 captivity, and capable of only imperfect conjectures as to his 
 whereabouts he was treated more like a bale of luggage than 
 a human and intelligent being lifted from boat to shore, from 
 shore to boat, from boat to shore again, and tumbled carelessly 
 from stalwart shoulders upon the ground to brood in silence 
 upon his painful situation, his limbs all stiffened and sore from 
 restraint, and his flesh irritated with the cords that threatened 
 to cut into it. His pride suffered him to offer no remonstrance. 
 His knowledge of his captors taught him that it would be idle. 
 He had but to endure Avith all the philosophy and fortitude 
 
470 
 
 THE FOIiAYERS. 
 
 within his command. He was sustained by the conviction 
 which he felt, that, though he himself was a loser in the game, 
 his enemy was yet foiled in his attempts upon his daughter, 
 Rutledge, and Willie Sinclair. He exulted, in his bonds, at the 
 idea that Inglehardt had experienced a mortifying defeat, with 
 the loss of nearly all his troop. This conviction could not be 
 a mistaken one. The stealthy progress of his captor, his isola 
 tion, want of means and followers, all led him to the true con 
 clusion. So far, he was consoled ; nay, held himself a gainer 
 by the result, though he had lost his own point in the game. 
 He did not yet know all ! 
 
 The boy too, Henry Travis, was sustained beyond his 
 strength and years, by the consciousness of the first develop 
 ment of his powers ; by the pride of his incipient mannishness ; 
 by a resolute determination not to suffer his enemies to discern 
 that his young heart was sore, and his young soul apprehensive. 
 He tasked his thought momently to teach him how to endure 
 bravely, and to defy his captors to the last. He was resolved 
 to play the soldier in the captive. 
 
 But he felt his constraint in pain. His bonds hurt his limbs; 
 his position fevered him ; his sinews were not yet hardened for 
 endurance, and his heart suffered in sympathy with his body. 
 It required all his ambitious thoughts and courage to keep him 
 from the displays of weakness which he felt ; and when ho 
 happened to think of his mother, and her grief and apprehen 
 sion, the tears rose into his eyes; his heart filled ; he felt like 
 choking with his sobs ! But he choked them down. He would 
 not have his enemy exult in his sufferings. He strove to think 
 of Willie Sinclair and his hardihood, and his teachings ; of his 
 daring valor ; the sweep of his great broadsword ; and that 
 fierce cry of exulting rage with which he led the charge against 
 the enemy, the first that the boy had ever witnessed; and his 
 young soul beat and bounded with the thought : 
 
 "Oh! if Willie Sinclair would but come!" But this soon 
 subsided to another that brought back all his weakness : 
 
 " My poor mother ! She does not know what has happened 
 to me. She will think they have killed me. My poor, poo 
 mother ! 
 
 He as little dreamed of his father s condition, so near him, 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 47i 
 
 fettered like himself, as the father dreamed of his ! And 
 strength to endure was in part due to their mutual ignorance. 
 
 And both slept in the brief hour that they lay beneath the 
 trees on the banks of the river, while Inglehardt waited for the 
 appearance of the Trailer with the horses. They slept from 
 exhaustion. For that brief interval they forgot their pain arid 
 captivity. Their instincts never once taught them, that, not 
 twenty feet apart, they lay opposite to each other. 
 
 Their captors were the first to awaken. It is possible that 
 they had not slept at all They were bustling about when 
 Travis first opened his eyes. He saw Inglehardt coming up 
 from the river where he had been bathing; he was only half 
 dressed, and was rubbing head and face with a towel. Dick 
 of Tophet was counting bullets from one hand to .the other. 
 They chatted together at a short distance from their captives. 
 
 Seeing but these, Captain Travis closed his eyes again as if 
 to shut out a disagreeable prospect. But he soon reopened 
 them on hearing a wild cry from the foot of the great red oak 
 in front of him. He had raised his head to look around him. 
 At that moment Henry Travis opened his eyes and gazed about 
 ths scene confusedly. His sense seemed to take in his situation 
 slowly. He stared at his father with bewildering sensations, 
 closed his eyes again, again opened them then, as if he had 
 finally grasped the fact fairly, he cried out in a voice of anguish, 
 
 " Oh ! father, have they got you too ?" 
 
 The father again raised his head, and made a desperate effort 
 to raise himself up, writhed violently in his bonds, and sunk 
 back. He could only murmur 
 
 " My son ! my son ! Oh ! God be merciful ! My son ! my 
 son !" 
 
 The son again spoke : 
 
 " Father ! are you tied like me V 1 
 
 The person addressed writhed once more in his bonds, making 
 a powerful effort to free his arms. 
 
 " Twon t do, eappin," said Dick of Tophet, jeeringly, as he 
 drew nigh, " twon t do. The hitch is too good and the line 
 too strong, for a small man. Ef you was a young Samson 
 now, you might work through it; but you ain t what you was 
 -iveiity years ago, and I reckon you never was much in hefl and 
 
472 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 sinew. Better take it easily, for a plough-line is mighty cut 
 ting ef you works much agin it." 
 
 "Villain, why do you tie that child?" was the howl rather 
 than the speech of the father. 
 
 "Child!" said Dick; "he s a blasted for ard one, if he s a 
 child ; and leetle cocksparrow as he is, I reckon he tumbled 
 
 more than one good fellow, with his d d little shooting-irons 
 
 yesterday. Child ! Blast my daylights, ef he didn t come 
 mighty nigh to knocking daylight out of my own eyes mtirely 
 yesterday." 
 
 "And if he had, twould have saved the rope a burden and a 
 task hereafter. But where s your master where s Inglehardt ? 
 put him before me, that I may speak to his base soul touch 
 ing the cruel usage of that boy." 
 
 " Good morning, Captain Travis," said Inglehardt in his 
 quietest and mildest tones, now emerging from the rear " I 
 im glad to see you looking so bright this morning, after your 
 atigues of the night and the day before. When I reflect that 
 you have had nothing to eat since yesterday at breakfast, and 
 lave been ever since in rather a constrained position, it is won- 
 lerful to me how elastic you appear. Excuse me that the 
 necessities of the service have not suffered me to provide the 
 necessary creature comforts. But you will forgive me Avheu 
 you learn that I need them quite as much as yourself. How 
 ever, we shall shortly have a little breakfast, and that will put 
 us in better condition for travel. That you have not suffered 
 relieves me greatly. It is perfectly delightful to see how fresh 
 you are this morning !" 
 
 " Inglehardt," said Travis, with hoarse and choking accents 
 " we are enemies, that I understand ; / am in your power. 
 For myself, I have no plea to make, no prayer to offer ; but 
 why have you made a prisoner of that boy that mere child 
 torn him from his mother roped his little limbs, like a 
 felon r 
 
 " Child ! Rather a stout child, Travis, and shoots a pistol 
 like a buccaneer. You disparage the son of your loins your 
 first-born !" 
 
 "He is a child but fifteen! Release him, Inglehardt 
 let him go to his mother. As a man you should feel sharno 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 473 
 
 only iii subjecting him to such treatment. Of what ULG keep 
 him. I pledge myself that ho will return quietly to his mother. 
 For myself, I ask nothing. 1 submit to my fate." 
 
 "It is verily a good spirit that of resignation, and the 
 more you exercise it, Travis, the better. You are in a bad 
 way. You played bravely, fearlessly, and with excellent skill. 
 You have lost, and the stakes are forfeited. Your life was on 
 the game, Travis !" 
 
 " No matter about my life ! The boy ! the boy ! He has 
 played no such game. He has incurred no such penalties, 
 Release him send him home. It is the shame of manhood 
 that his tender limbs are thus corded." 
 
 " You mistake, Travis. He, too, has had his game has 
 probably the life of one or more men to answer for. His 
 stakes are also forfeit ; but these do not involve his life. He 
 must undergo the fate of all prisoners must wait exchange. 
 But, farther, he is no prisoner of mine. Mr. Andrews, there, is 
 his captor." 
 
 " Pshaw ! You do not mean to impose upon me the sill} 
 idea that the private of a troop exercises a discretion on such a 
 subject independently of his superior ]" 
 
 " You may believe what you please. It is enough to repeat 
 that Mr. Andrews is not in my troop, and exercises his own 
 discretion in his adventures. His accountability is elsewhere. 
 The boy is his prisoner." 
 
 " Ay, but you can move him, Inglehardt, to do your pleasure 
 rather than his own." 
 
 " Humph ! perhaps ; but I see not that the claims of Captain 
 Travis, or any of his family, are sufficiently strong to make it 
 my pleasure to gratify their wishes." 
 
 "Good God! Inglehardt," said the other, now beginning to 
 comprehend his enemy, " can it be that you look to the deten 
 tion of that child as one of the means by which to gratify your 
 purposes ?" 
 
 " Oh ! my dear Captain Travis, my purposes are all very 
 innocent. I trust to make it equally your pleasure and policy 
 to see that they are gratified." 
 
 Great God ! have I lived for this ? My boy ! my boy !" 
 
 Such was the ejaculation, hoarse and convulsive, of the fa 
 
474 THE FORAYE11S. 
 
 .her, as, half-i Bawling and haii-roliing, both arms and legs being 
 aghtiy corded, the boy scrambled over the space that separated 
 the two, and flung himself moaning into his father s lap. Nc 
 cJa&p no embrace no caresses, awaited- him. The limbs of 
 Travis were as tightly fettered as his own ; but he stooped 
 over, and pressed his lips upon the cheeks and forehead of the 
 boj , then burst into a sobbing convulsion. The hard man was 
 terribly softened. Dick of Tophet looked inquiringly at Ingle- 
 hardt. The latter smiled faintly and turned away, walking 
 silently out toward the high ground. The ruffian followed him, 
 after a brief pause, with hurried steps, and the two conferred 
 together out of hearing of the captives. 
 
 "I say, cappin," began Joel Andrews "I reckon there s 
 to use in keeping the boy, since you ve got the father. He s 
 only a trouble, and always in the way." 
 
 Eh 1 what 1 No use ! My good fellow, you have no idea 
 of the uses of useless things. We ll make him very useful. 
 " I don t see how, cappin." 
 
 " Eh ! you don t ? You will open your eyes to a discovery 
 then before very long. Why, man, don t you already see how 
 the father softens? Before he saw the boy he was stubborn 
 as ; ^ock : now he melts and flows like running water." 
 
 "But wWs the use of his melting to us? We ve got him, 
 and kin always manage to make his rock melt " 
 
 " Ay, so long as we keep the son. Enough, Dick ; you seem 
 wonderfully disposed to melt yourself. But .we can t afford it, 
 Dick. We must keep all our captives, big and little. They 
 are so much capital for both of us. It ll make the boy strong 
 and hardy to give him a little training as a prisoner; and you 
 see he wishes to be a soldier. No school like adversity for 
 that, Dick. As for the father d n him ! the melting pro- 
 u .ss must begin now or never. We can not manage him else. 
 I tell you, we must coin his heart up, drop by drop. all the 
 blood in it .ill we bring him to a sensible condition. Through 
 tnat boy we subdue him. His ransom will pay you well; the 
 father s will pay me. You shall know hereafter how we shalj 
 manage it." 
 
 Dick of Tophet still looked inquiringly, but his superior 
 seemed nowise disposed to continue the subject. It was not 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 475* 
 
 often that Inglehardt permitted himself to swear, and the fact 
 of his having done so, struck the ruffian with some surprise. He 
 could now perceive that there were mixed motives and emotions 
 at work prompting Inglehardt to measures, in respect to the 
 iwo captives, for which he could not definitely account. Dick 
 of Tophet turned back to the prisoners, between whom, mean 
 while, a long and touching conversation had taken place, which 
 the approach of the ruffian interrupted. But he, appearing to 
 see this, continued his walk to the river, and the two resumed 
 their speech. The boy had given his father a full account, as 
 far as he had arrived at the particulars, of all that had taken 
 place at Holly-Dale. There was much that he did not know, 
 but he could speak positively of the general result of the affair. 
 Old Travis was confirmed in his belief that Inglehardt had been 
 defeated, and that Rutledge and Sinclair had not only escaped 
 the snare, but had turned the petard of the tory-captain upon 
 himself. 
 
 " And, oh ! father, if you could have seen how we made em 
 skip. You should have seen our charge ! How we camo 
 down upon em, and scattered them every waj ! They ve got 
 us, it s true, but that s all ! I don t think that Inglehardt s 
 got half a dozen men left. The dragoons of Willie Sinclair 
 cut em down, right and left, just as the hurricane throws the 
 trees." 
 
 " Oh ! my son, you forget that Inglehardt has a full corps of 
 mounted-riflemen now in Rawdon s army. They ll be down 
 before long, and then he ll be stronger than ever." 
 
 " But they ll have to exchange us, father. Willie Sinclair 
 will see to that. He s got enough of the tories in his hands to 
 exchange for us a dozen times over." 
 
 Travis shook his head despondingly. He saw what the L.y 
 could not. He rightly conjectured the policy of the tory-cap 
 tain, and was about to* deliver it, when he reflected that it 
 would only serve unnecessarily to dishearten the child, and 
 add the anxieties of a new doubt to a condition already suffi 
 ciently depressing. The tearful eyes of the boy looking up 
 into his own, the tremulous eagerness of his lip, the soft, girl 
 ish delicacy of his cheek, its peachy hue all expressive of in 
 xiocence and gentleness, such as we seek to protect fron) liars 1 * 
 
476 THE FORAYEUS. 
 
 encounter and biting winds made the father careful to smw^ 
 and encourage rather than depress his hope, and he said : 
 
 " Yes, Henry, there can be no question but that Willie Sin 
 clair will soon relieve us. But you must now take your rea>, 
 lessons as a soldier. You must expect some trials of your 
 strength and courage. Be of good cheer, and do not suffer any 
 thing you ee or hear to alarm you. We are in rough hands, 
 and it is one of the arts of such people to overcome the souls of 
 their captives their principles through their fears. Keep 
 a stout heart, and bear manfully your troubles." 
 
 " Oh ! father, if you had seen me when we made the rush or. 
 them fellows ! Why, when I heard the bugle sound, and the 
 cry of our lieutenant to charge, I had no more fear I thought 
 only how to get a-head of the rest." 
 
 " Ah ! my son, it is easier to face an enemy, with the bugles 
 blowing in one s ears than to endure bonds. The charge warms 
 the blood, but cords and chains chill and enfeeble it." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! Oh ! my father. I never felt how sweet 
 freedom was, till these cords were on my wrists and legs !" 
 
 The approaching tramp of horses silenced the conversation. 
 Anon, Dick of Tophet was seen speeding up from the river. 
 He joined Inglehardt on the higher land, where he was await 
 ing the Trailer and Julius who soon appeared through the trees 
 bringing the horses. He brought a basket of provisions, baked 
 biscuit of corn, the fragment of a boiled ham, and half-a-dozen 
 eggs, boiled hard, with a morsel of salt in a paper. These he 
 had picked up somewhere on the route, at the house of some 
 friendly tory. It is just probable that the prog may have been 
 stolen from the cupboard of some doubtful patriot. 
 
 It was no intention of Inglehardt to starve his captives. A 
 portion of the breakfast was assigned them, and the cords were 
 taken from their hands while they ate. 
 
 " Eat, Henry," said the father, seeing the boy disinclined, 
 1 a good stomach is necessary to a captive. Eat ! you will need 
 all your strength." 
 
 And he set the boy an example of good trencher service. 
 While they ate, Julius, the negro-boy, stood watching them 
 from a little distance. The runaway felt some twinges of con 
 science at beholding them. They both saw him, but as if by 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL. 47T 
 
 *nrit understanding, they made no remark. When the iepas^ 
 was over, and the horses made ready for a new start Dicko 
 Tophet said, with an air of ruffianly indifference : 
 
 "I reckon, cappin, we needn t cord up the prisoners, ef o 
 be they ll only give their word of honor, that they won t try t* 
 git off." 
 
 But Inglehardt preferred the security of cords to words. HP 
 did not, however, answer the suggestion in the hearing of the 
 aptives. There was a feeling of shame, perhaps, that made 
 him silent. Apart from them, he replied to Andrews : 
 
 " We mast risk nothing. Travis is a sly rascal. He won * 
 feel bound by any pledges to us. He ll argue that we have no 
 right to exact them. Besides, Dick, we ve got to melt the rock 
 you remember. To bring Travis to the right condition of mind. 
 I must make him very fearful. I must bring him to his knees 
 through his terrors." 
 
 "But the boy" 
 
 " It is only through the boy that we can work upon the 
 father s terrors. He has no fears for himself. We must make 
 him fearful for the boy. Remember that, Dick. You must 
 t3econd me in waking up his fears." 
 
 Dick of Tophet, ruffian as he was, was a little at a loss to 
 see how this was to be done ; but he was not willing that his 
 superior should suppose him inexperienced and ignorant. 
 
 " Oh ! very well. Only jest you say what s got to be done. 
 That s all." 
 
 " At present, we have only got to secure them on horseback. 
 Mount them with free legs and then tie the legs fast under the 
 belly of the horse. We can guide the horsoS for them." 
 
 And in this fashion the two captives were mounted. Travis 
 expostulated in behalf of his son ; pledged himself that the boy 
 would not attempt escape, but he was not listened to. Ingle 
 hardt rode on a-head. It was in vain that the commissary de 
 manded an interview with his old associate. 
 
 They were gone from the scene, as we are already aware, 
 
 when, conducted by his unerring instincts, or, rather, the uner- 
 
 ng logic of the scout, Jim Ballou came upon the ground. 
 
 He tracked the party, as we have seen, up to the point where 
 
 hey passed from the woods into the main road. Here the 
 
478 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 tracks were all lost, in the wilderness of impressions, made by 
 every beast that runs, upon the sandy thoroughfare. But Jim 
 Ballou proceeded to work out his usual scout logic. 
 
 " They re not going to keep tlis main track," he soliloquized 
 in a murmur as he looked about him. " They re for hiding, 
 and they ve just crossed the road to get into the lower woods. 
 Well, we ll see, but I reckon they re quite too old at foxing to 
 go right across, making but one step from the old track into the 
 new one." 
 
 And our scout was right. His search directly across the road 
 yielded him no discovery. 
 
 " As I thought," said he. " No, they ve kept the road a hi* 
 up or down, only to break off the connection. They ve gone 
 across, that s certain, for if that wasn t their plan, they needn t 
 ha come out of the swamp thicket to the road at all. They d 
 ha just pushed on, up or down, in the same old woods. Yet 
 here s their track to the very edge of the road. Well, it s cer 
 tain they ve gone across, and it s up or down. And it only 
 needs keen sighting on t other side, for a matter of fifty yards, 
 more or less, to see where they come out. For they wouldn t 
 keep the main track a minute longer than needful." 
 
 So he reasoned. His own horse was still hidden in the 
 thicket. He was careful not to suffer his own tracks to mar 
 those which he sought. He stepped the road carefully up and 
 down its lower margin. Nothing escaped his eyes. They were 
 tliose of one who riding at a canter through the woods will stop 
 his horse and show you the track of deer or turkey among the 
 leaves, and tell you just how many hours have elapsed since 
 the animal made it. His reasoning was so nearly certain that 
 he had no doubts of finding the trail. After a while, a low 
 chuckle escaped him, and he raised himself erect. 
 
 " Have em again ! I knowed it must be so. And now to 
 find all the tracks, and see if any of em has broke off from the 
 party." 
 
 And for this further object, he again addressed himself to the 
 trail. 
 
 " All right ! all together. And now for the general course." 
 
 He followed the track for a hundred yards into the woodo ; 
 
 then, as if satisfied, he took his wav back carelessly to where 
 
THE SCOUT THE FUGITIVES THE TRAIL 479 
 
 his horse had been fastened. He slipped the bridle and let the 
 animal graze. While the horse was thus employed, the scout 
 drew from across his saddle a small buckskin sack, with two 
 pouches, one on either side. From one of these pouches he 
 drew a smaller sack containing a dry grainy sort of meal a few 
 handfuls of which he swallowed. His food was a simple meal of 
 maize and sugar, browned together over the fire, one part sugar 
 to eight of meal. A draft from the pure sweet waters of the Edis- 
 to, swallowed with mouth buried in the running stream, which he 
 could thus reach only by prostrating himself upon his breast 
 with his hands grasping the foots of trees jutting from the banks 
 into the water, satisfied his thirst ; and our scout was ready to 
 pursue the trail which he had found. But he did not imme 
 diately set off. He returned to the spot where his steed had 
 been left to graze and seated himself quietly beneath a tree to 
 ruminate, or sleep. For two hours he kept this position seem 
 ing to drowse, and perhaps really drowsing. At the end of 
 tli is time, quietly rising up, just as if he had arranged for two 
 hours sleep, and could will at pleasure the duration of his slum 
 bers, he proceeded to bit the animal and mount. A few mo 
 ments after this he was in motion, taking the trail of Inglehardt s 
 party, deep in the forests, and pushing in a southeasterly di 
 rection. We need not follow him for the present. Enough that 
 the beagle was on the track, with the scent keen and warm, 
 and that, if any scout can fairly keep the trail of the tory and 
 his captives, Jim Ballon is the man to do so. The great forestf 
 soon swallowed him and them from sight. 
 
THE FORAYEItti. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 SKRIMMAGING. 
 
 VERY soon after Sinclair had left Holly-Dale as scon after 
 as possible the great cumbersome family carriage of Mrs. 
 Travis was got in readiness, and that lady and Bertha prepared 
 to depart from the well-known and familiar places, seeking 
 temporary refuge across the Santee. Four fine blooded bays 
 were harnessed to the coach, which was required to bear the 
 two ladies, the servant-maid, and the one-eyed driver, Oato. 
 The name of the old Roman, who never distinguished himself 
 as a whip, but might reasonably assert some distinctions for 
 himself, of another sort, was yet hardly misapplied in the case 
 of our Oato, who, very certainly had been a famous Jehu in 
 better days. He was the o\\\j family negro whom Travis, as a 
 novus homo could claim. He had inherited Cato in right of his 
 wife, and, as an old family negro, the fellow was held to be 
 faithful This was the usual characteristic of the class. It 
 iras the "new negro" the African fresh from the coast, whom 
 it was found good policy always to distrust. Cato was not 
 simply faithful. He was sternly and bravely so. He was 
 fearless in the assertion of the rights of his " young missis," "by 
 which title he continued to recognise the mother of Bertha, 
 long after the latter had entered her teens. To both, and to 
 his master, Cato never hesitated to offer his opinions, and if 
 iccessary, his rebuke. As if conscious of his integrity and of 
 ts recognition in the family, he asserted his moral rights under 
 it, and was just as frequently guardian and censor, in his prov 
 ince, as body-servant or carriage-driver. 
 
 Captain St. Julien readily comprehended the character of 
 Cato in his first conversation with him ; and a judiciouslmder- 
 itanding between the parties, at the commencement of the 
 
SKRIMMAGING. 481 
 
 journey, contemplated all the possible dangers that might hap 
 pen along the route. With so many divisions of the enemy 
 approaching the very precincts, through which the cavalcade 
 was to pass, they might reasonably apprehend some encounters 
 with a foe whom it was their policy to avoid. 
 
 The auspices were seemingly quite favorable when the party 
 set forth. They crossed the Edisto at Shilling s, and soon began 
 to press downward, inclining in toward Orangeburg, until the 
 Caw-ca\v swamp should be passed, when it was the policy of 
 St. Julien to give the village a pretty wide berth to the right, 
 in order to escape the danger of contact with Stewart and his 
 regiment, who were now known to be pushing up with all pos 
 sible speed to the junction with Rawdon. This danger once 
 passed, the farther progress was to be pursued along the road 
 running across the head of the " Four-Holes," and intersecting 
 one of the two roads leading down the country, parallel to the 
 course of the Santee, until they should be able to strike direct 
 for Nelson s Ferry. Once in this road, which was supposed to 
 be in possession of Marion s parties, the progress was consid 
 ered safe. 
 
 Such was the arrangement. But it was subject to contin 
 gencies. When St. Julien, timing his movements to those of 
 the lumbersome carriage of the family, was approaching the 
 lowest of the routes across the Caw-caw, one of his scouts rode 
 in and gave intelligence of a considerable body of the enemy s 
 horse on the other side. It became necessary to pursue, for 
 the present, a route along the upper margin of the Cnw-caw, 
 keeping that stream and swamp between themselves and the 
 unknown enemy. In sooth, our little party had a very narrow 
 strait almost as narrow as that bridge, Al Sirat, of the Mus 
 sulman s, which conducts to heaven by which to pass through 
 the converging masses of the British. There was Rawdon 
 from above, soured by sickness, irritated by the hot weather, 
 /vexed at the failure of Stewart to join him at Granby, and 
 altogether in very bad temper, with the world generally, and 
 his Irish troops in particular, pressing down from Granby along 
 the eastern side of the North Edisto ; Cruger, embarrassed by 
 the fugitive colonies of the Nine-Six loyalists, and followed 
 closely by Pickens, seeking a junction with Rawdon, as the 
 
482 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 only menus of making himself safe ; Stewart, with liis regiment 
 of buffs, and a large convoy of provisions and munitions, 
 goading on his teams the nearest road from Charleston ; and 
 sundry scattered bodies of tories who had been busy as fora- 
 yers, while Greene and Rawdon were playing for heavier 
 stakes above. 
 
 Well might St. Julien, with his little squad of twenty-five 
 troopers, and his burdensome coach of state with its precious 
 inmates, feel the necessity of taking every possible precaution, 
 in order to escape being ground to powder between the several 
 masses then tending to a common centre. Yet, had he known ! 
 The formidable troop, from which, misled by his scout, he 
 thought it necessary to skulk, consisted of a detachment of 
 Marion s command, just despatched by Greene with the hope 
 of intercepting Stewart and his convoy. Under the cover of 
 the four hundred mounted men, whom the famous partisan led 
 on this expedition, St. Julien might have made a safe progress, 
 fourteen or fifteen miles ; since all the country east of Stewart s 
 route, and below the Caw-caw, was now fairly under cover of 
 his rifles. Leaving St. Julien to his obscure road, we will take 
 that pursued by Marion. 
 
 It was on the 6th of July that Greene succeeded in passing 
 Lord Rawdon. Reserving to himself a single company of 
 Washington s cavalry, simply to watch the progress of the 
 British army, Greene despatched Marion on the expedition 
 against Stewart. Marion kept himself usually well-informed. 
 On the 7th of July, his scouts apprized him of the approach of 
 Stewart, who was totally unconscious of an enemy. At mid 
 night of the same day, Marion sallied out from his covert con 
 fident of the prey which seemed gliding fairly into his jaws, 
 even as the fly walks into the open mouth of the crocodile. 
 But, for once, his scouts were premature had made them 
 selves too secure of fortune. They had tracked the enemy to 
 the door of the trap, but never once seemed to fancy that he 
 might turn aside at the entrance. They had made no provision 
 against the very event which happened. At the last moment, 
 Stewart had a choice of roads, and influenced only by the con 
 dition of the roads themselves, and totally unapprehensive of 
 any fce, the British colonel simply took the route which Marion 
 
SKRIMMAGING. 483 
 
 did not cover; and while the partisan swept down for his 
 destruction along the one route, Stewart made his way upward 
 in safety by the other. Not altogether in safety, for a clash of 
 one of Marion s squadrons, recovering lost ground, succeeded 
 in cutting off the rear guard, with a portion of the convoy. 
 Stewart, himself, with the main body of his troop, entered 
 Orangeburg on the morning of the 8th, hardly yet conscious of 
 the danger he had escaped. 
 
 While these events were in progress, St. Julien moved for 
 ward slowly, and with great precaution. He kept his scouting 
 parties considerably in advance. He had been some three hours 
 only on the road, after leaving Holly-Dale, when his scouts 
 rode in with tidings of a second British party only a mile off, 
 consisting of some thirty men. They were reported to be 
 putting their horses in motion ; but, of their course, nothing was 
 known. It was just possible that they might be* pursuing another 
 route ; possible, that they might not cross his path. It was, 
 perhaps, easy for him to elude them. But it was well to know 
 who they were. They were at present in his way. They 
 were but thirty in number, and his force was twenty-five. St 
 Julien resolved in a single instant. He was the quietest person 
 in the world, but the most decisive. He drew his lieutenant 
 aside, gave him brief directions in a whisper, then watched him 
 quietly for awhile, as he divided the cormnand into two parts, 
 and led them forward slowly, leaving but four troopers to follow 
 with their captain. The squads thus moving off turned slowly 
 into the woods on the upper side of the road, and very soon 
 disappeared from sight. 
 
 As soon as St. Julien had seen them disappear, he rode up to 
 the side of the carriage, and with a pleasant smile upon his lips, 
 and a courtier-like bow, he said : 
 
 " We are possibly to have a brush with the enemy. OUT 
 scouts report a squad of tories on the route ahead. It is need 
 ful that I should look after them. But this need not alarm 
 you, ladies. Do not be uneasy. I make no doubt we shall 
 readily disperse them ; but, whatever the event, I have given 
 Cato instructions what to do. He seems firm and intelligent, 
 and should any disaster befall my command, you had better trust 
 him implicitly." 
 
484 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "But will you have to iiglit, Captain St. Julien ?" demanded 
 Mrs. Travis, in faltering tones. 
 
 " It is very probable," was the reply. 
 
 " But, captain, could it not be avoided ?" 
 
 St. Julien s face slightly reddened. 
 
 " It might ! The thing is surely possible. It only nee Is 
 that I should forget myself, my duty, my name, my orders, and 
 take to flight ; in which event, while I should get off safely, 
 your carriage and party would probably fall into the hands of 
 the pursuers." 
 
 " Nay, captain, do not mistake me. I should be the last per 
 son to desire, even for my safety, that you should do anything 
 discreditable to manhood : and you will please remember, be 
 sides, that it is a woman who speaks, whose feminine fears must 
 not weigh against a soldier s judgment. My only thought was 
 that that really, I see, that what I would say now amounts 
 only to what I said before that it seems our best policy to 
 avoid encounter. If we could elude the enemy " 
 
 " Suc.h would be your policy, my dear madam, and if my 
 only duty was your escort, I should seek only your safet}^, at 
 any sacrifice. But you will remember that my military duties 
 are paramount. It is only an incidental service which keeps 
 me beside your carriage for a while. It would not be proper 
 for me to evade or to seek to evade any reasonable chance of 
 striking the enemy, even though at some peril to your escort. 
 But, in truth, we have no choice. The enemy is before us, in 
 no great strength in numbers hardly beyond our own. We 
 can not pass him without a meeting. If we attempt to cross 
 the Caw-caw, we risk the encounter with Stewart ; and you 
 have been already advised of the enemy s presence in force at 
 the lower crossing. To turn back upon our own steps, is per 
 haps quite as great a danger, as we know that Rawdon is pres 
 sing down from above, and can not now be far off. You see, 
 my dear madam, that our best policy is to seek to brush the 
 feebler enemy from our path in front, and to delay as little in 
 doing so as possible. Good morning, Mrs. Travis. Good morn 
 ing, Miss Bertha. By the way, Miss Bertha, you may find some 
 very pretty wild flowers in this wood. Just take your course 
 downward for the swamp, as soon as Cato stops the carriage. Ho 
 
SKRIMMAGING. 435 
 
 will drive into the lower woods, so as to Keep from sight of the 
 road. A little ramble will relieve your limbs for a season. In 
 these piney woods, where they slope down to the bays, you will 
 find a great variety of flowers, and I should be pleased, on my 
 return, to see you with a handsome bouquet. Here, at this 
 very season, you will find the yellow orchis, which is a pretty 
 country damsel ; the passion flower may be gathered where the 
 woods are most open; its carnation contrasts beautifully with 
 the blue pulchra ; throw a few sprigs of sensitive plant between 
 them ; and then sprinkle the white azalea around and about the 
 cluster ; the garden-shrub grows wild in all this region ; the 
 brilliant silk weed, with its rich blood tints, and the cardinal 
 flower, will wonderfully help your variety ; the yellow and pur 
 ple saracenia, and the blue flag, you will gather along the 
 swamp, but look out for snakes where you seek for these. 
 There is a dragon that always watches over Beauty. Don t 
 forget the "wake robbin," and the "old man s beard," the.leafy 
 green look of the one, and the snow-white fringes of the other, 
 will greatly help the contrasts ; and if you will make your girl 
 gather you a single pond lily from the bay, for the centre of 
 your group, you will have as beautiful a bouquet as Marie An 
 toinette would be proud to plant upon her toilet. Pardon me 
 that I am not suffered to join with you in the search. I am 
 passionately fond of flowers. I half believe them to be fallen 
 angels particularly these odorless wild flowers. By the way, 
 do you know why they are so odorless and so beautiful, Miss 
 Bertha ?" 
 
 " No, indeed ! Why ? I am curious for the reason." 
 
 "Because they are designed as field and wayside flowers 
 
 only, and thus address themselves only to the passing eye 
 
 meant only for the sight, to cheer the traveller, not to delay 
 him and this reminds me that I have no time to lose" 
 taking out his watch. " Good morning, ladies, and a pleasant 
 ramble. Oato !" 
 
 "Sah ! cappin!" 
 
 " Remember, Cato, what I have told you." 
 Nebber you f aid [afraid] cappin! I onderstands. 1 do 
 you tells me. He done ! / say em !" 
 
 Cato waved his whip, and nodded his head with the air of 
 
486 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 a man who would round his periods conclusively. But St. Julicn 
 waited for no answer. With a smile and bow to the ladies, and 
 a finger lifted to Cato, lie bent forward on his charger, gave him 
 the spur, and followed the route which his lieutenant had pur 
 sued. He overtook his troopers as they worked forward, silent 
 as serpents, trailing through the woods. 
 
 Not a bugle sounded; not a voice spoke above a whisper; 
 but quietly gliding from officer to officer and man to man, St. 
 Julicn whispered the necessary orders and encouragement to 
 all. He aimed to surprise his enemy; an achievement which 
 he thought easy enough, after the report made by his scouts. 
 And he proceeded to this sort of business with the same calm, 
 subdued, and gentle manner, with which he had counselled the 
 young damsel of the wild flowers of the region and how best to 
 compose them into a bouquet. 
 
 " Ha !" said Cato, " he hab trong sense for sodger, dat same 
 slim cappin. He no hab black eye and leetle mout for not ing. 
 I see de debbil in he eye, for all he talk so softly and small 
 jes like a gal. He no gib too much tongue. You no yer [hear] 
 bugle blow. He hush em up. He s for ambushment fight, I 
 tell you. He guine trike jes like rattlesnake !" 
 
 "But. what are we to do, Cato ?" demanded his mistress. 
 
 " Enty de cappin, he se f, tell you Cato is know ? Nebber 
 you min . Jes leff it all to me, young missis." 
 
 " But, Cato, I should like to know something too. What is 
 there secret in these instructions of Captain St. Julien ?" 
 
 " Hegh ! Da s jes like ooman s ! He mus be knowing to 
 ebbry t ing. Wha good he guine do you for know? De 
 cappin know, Cato know . - Wha den ? You guine alter wha 
 de cappin say ?" 
 
 " No, Cato, but I would like to know what it is." 
 
 " You know soon rough, when you see what Cato guine 
 done." 
 
 And no further answer would the fellow vouchsafe, as he 
 wheeled his horses to the right and drove them down toward 
 the swamp, and sufficiently far into the thicket to conceal the 
 vehicle from any wayfarers along the road. 
 
 " Der you is all safe!" cried the negro, as he held up his 
 horses. " Reckon dein *oiy nebber can see we yer from de 
 
SKRIMM AGING. 487 
 
 road. Ef he want for fin we, lie mus put lie nose down to de 
 groun and run in. An now, you yerry wlia de cappin bin tell 
 you. Git out ef you wants to, and tretcli you limb, and pick 
 de yaller flowers ob de forest. Ha ! lie s a berry trange sawt 
 o pusson, dat cappin; jes he guine fight wid broadsword and 
 pistol, he tell we bout de flowers ob de forest, and whay for 
 look for em, and all dem ang wid big name. And jes wid lie 
 inout full ob flowers, he guinc cut down de hossman and de 
 nosses, and shoot de people as he run !" 
 
 And the ladies descended from the carriage, and began to 
 look about for flowers, when suddenly there was a sharp blare 
 of the bugle, and then a confused sound, a strange hum, as of 
 numerous insects, rising rapidly into the uproar, the clash and 
 clang of a very spirited combat, hand to hand and a Voutrance. 
 
 St. Julien s broadswords were soon at breakfast, their teeth 
 meeting in the flesh. 
 
 He was deliberate very much so as a man of action; but 
 he consumed very little time in his deliberations. It was 
 only to possess himself of all the facts in the case, as gather- 
 able from his scouts, that he drew rein for a brief moment in the 
 wood. 
 
 The enemy Avere to be surprised. They were in possession 
 of an old mill-seat, on the Caw-caw. They were scattered along 
 a narrow causeway. They had breakfasted, and whiskey had 
 been their substitute for coffee. They were refreshed, and, 
 something more, exhilarated never once dreaming of an 
 enemy so near them. On the contrary, under the lead of a 
 notorious Florida outlaw, one Lem Watkins, after a season of 
 foray on the South Edisto and Savannah, they were preparing 
 to unite themselves with the main army, and to share in its ex 
 pected spoils. Their horses stood ready bitted, saddled and 
 bridled for a start. Some were fastened to branches of trees 
 upon the roadside; others might be seen upon the causeway 
 leading to the mill ; Watkins himself, with a group, was taking 
 a stirrup-cup, just above the stream itself, which happened to be 
 quite low and fordable. A dozen of them were in the saddle, 
 when, these details all previously ascertained by the scouts of 
 St. Julien, and his troop having worked their way down under 
 cover of the woods until concealment was no longer possible, he 
 
488 THE PORAYERS. 
 
 gave the signal, and his bagle rolled out the sharp blasts which 
 sounded to the charge. 
 
 Then rose the wild hurrah, the savage whoop! and the dra 
 goons thundered down apon the enemy. The tories, who were 
 dismounted, rushed for their horses. Those who were mounted 
 dashed forward along the causeway down into the swamp. 
 Watkins dropped his bottle of whiskey into the stream, and 
 scrambled across it to the opposite bank where his horse was 
 fastened. Here he mounted, and wound his bugle, and shouted 
 to his troopers to show front and not be ridden down. They 
 might have done so ; since the causeway, for a space, was but 
 of wagon-width, and might have been held against thrice the 
 number of foes, by the half-dozen troopers who would have 
 covered : .. On each side the ground was mucky and fenny. 
 But a surprise is apt to prevent all mental calculations. 
 
 The tories made two or thr& ; shows, wheeling about and dis 
 playing a front to their assailants. But the charge was too 
 rapid too headlong, arid so, irresistible. To keep ahead, to 
 dash across the causeway and stream, and find cover in the 
 opposite woods, seemed the common impulse of the fugitives, 
 and a fair proportion of them succeeded in doing so those who 
 perished along the route under St. Julien s sabres, just offering 
 sufficient impediment to delay the onslaught for the safety of 
 the rest. But once was there anything like a conflict. Three 
 brave fellows planted themselves in the middle of the cause 
 way, emptied their pistols into the faces of half a score of the 
 dragoons, tumbled one of them from his saddle, crossed swords 
 with the rest, and were hurled out of the track, ridden down, 
 tumbled from the causeway, and cut to pieces before they could 
 rise. 
 
 . Quarter was neither asked nor given. The work with them 
 was short. They had been guilty of the blunder of receiving 
 the charge at a halt, instead of setting their own steeds in mo 
 tion. The momentum of the shock was irresistible, But they 
 embarrassed the charge, delayed it, and two thirds of their com 
 rades, running pellmell, succeeded in getting over the swamp. 
 
 The proportion was too great to be allowed to escape. Our 
 dragoons were just enough heated to make a chase agreeable, 
 and where an enemy might go, a brave foe might surely follow 
 
SKRIMMAGING. 489 
 
 St. Julien dashed after them. 
 
 Watkins made a rally. But the showing was a false one. It 
 was but for a moment. With the near rush of the dragoons, 
 the tories broke incontinently, and made for the open woods 
 the pursuers after them, occasionally smiting as they went, 
 shearing off head or arm of the unhappy fugitive whose hope 
 rested upon the legs of a beast wanting the necessary sinews. 
 
 The open woods are reached, but offer no security nay, 
 afford better chances to the dragoons, who are all well mounted, 
 and on powerful, large animals. It was now that the sword 
 began to glean its victims. Watkins, himself, was closely pur 
 sued by St. Julien. A small group, less than a score, held on 
 with him. They were nearing the open road. This tended to 
 lessen their chances of safety. 
 
 " Why not surrender and get quarter ?" said the lieutenant 
 of Watkins, as they ran side by side. 
 
 "Ha! and what the good of that? If not the broadsword, 
 it is the gallows !" 
 
 Very true ! Every mother s son of them was an outlaw. 
 
 Breathless, headlong they rushed out into the open road, and 
 whirled their steeds upward. Not twenty yards behind them 
 swept St. Julieii forward with his whole squadron, minus two 
 men only and three horses. In another moment, the fugitives 
 are lost just so soon as the pursuers find themselves on the 
 open track ! But, even as Watkins gains the road, he shouts, 
 yells with a sense of relief, gives his steed new spurs lashes 
 the sides of the beast with repeated rowels and the others do 
 the same. Headlong the beasts go, over and over, rolling iu 
 the sand. St. Julien dashes out upon them, with all his squad 
 i on, ready to reap the field ! 
 
 He is disappointed of the prey. His uplifted sabre is arrest 
 ed. He gathers up his steed with a sudden curb that staggers 
 the beast. He prepares to wheel to fly in turn. 
 
 He is in the immediate presence of the whole British army 
 of Rawdon ! Watkins, with his beast, has rolled over at the 
 very feet of the British van ! His neck is not broken, and he 
 has, this time, escaped the keen edge of the partisan s sabre. 
 
 The British drums beat the alarm livelily. 
 
 "What is this?" criec 1 Eawdon, galloping to the head of hig 
 
 21* 
 
490 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 column J3ut nobody could explain. The army was prepared 
 for battle, the artillery unlimbered and hurried up to the front ; 
 the wearied regiments, marching in loose order up to this mo 
 ment, and no small disarray, were made to change front, and 
 prepare for attack. The British general, one of the ablest, by 
 the way, in the service, had no reason to doubt that Greene s 
 \vhole army was at hand. He knew that he* was pursued. He 
 knew that Greene, himself, with a strong force of mounted men, 
 had actually passed him ; and he might well suppose that a 
 forced march like his own, by a people accustomed to the cli 
 mate and so strong in cavalry, had proved them better able to 
 endure so heavy a strain upon their strength and sinews, than 
 his European troops, so many of whom were fresh from Ire 
 land. Besides, the country was one highly favorable for sur 
 prises. So dense were the forests, so deep the swamps, so 
 sinuous the routes, that two armies might sometimes pitch 
 their tents within a mile of each other, and, unless provided 
 with excellent scouts, might never suspect their mutual prox 
 imity until too late. 
 
 Rawdon was feeble in cavalry. He had none in fact ; his 
 only body of horse having been cut up completely, at Granby, 
 not a week before, by a detachment from Lee s legion. To 
 supply his deficiency, in this most necessary arm of war, in a 
 plain and sparsely-settled country like Carolina, a body of vol 
 unteer gentry, his own staff, the field-officers, and some few loy 
 alists in all something less than a hundred men had organ 
 ized themselves for cavalry service on this march, and with 
 reference to the very sort of danger which now appeared to 
 threaten them. The corps was led by Lord Edward Fitz 
 gerald. 
 
 r lhis gallant young nobleman, for whom so melancholy a fate 
 was in reserve, to be developed in future histories, soon led his 
 charge against St. Julien. He had been operating on the 
 flanks and rear it being supposed that the American army 
 was still behind them. 
 
 The troop was not an efficient one. It was badly mounted 
 in the first place ; and one half of them carried small-swords. 
 It was motley in equipment, and few of them had enjoyed any 
 advantages, of drill 01 training, in the present form and organ 
 
SKRIMMAGING. 491 
 
 ization of the troop. Nevertheless, it was still too strong, num 
 bering some ninety men, to suffer St. Julien to ri>k the issue, 
 in the very face of the British army. To keep up a good front, 
 and claw off quietly from the game, was the policy of St. Julien. 
 But would the enemy suffer this ? With their infantry to back 
 them, there was hardly a hope of it. But, as this was all of 
 cavalry that the British army could command, it was no part 
 of their policy that it should venture far from the main body in 
 pursuit. Rawdon was particular in his injunctions to this effect. 
 He knew not but that St. Julien s troop was employed as a de 
 coy. Still, it was needful to brush the assailants from his path ; 
 and the dashing young Irishman, who had volunteered to head 
 this command, darted out, at a smart gallop, upon our partisans. 
 
 St. Julien readily conceived the British policy, and this 
 necessarily counselled his own. He could not successfully 
 maintain the assault of Fitzgerald, and the latter could not ven 
 ture to pursue him far. His game lay in the heels of his horses. 
 He wheeled about accordingly, the moment that he made the 
 discovery of his enemy in force, sounded his bugle for the retreat 
 and sent his men a-head down the road toward Orangeburg 
 It was impossible under the press of the enemy to recross the 
 Caw- caw. 
 
 Then followed the chase, continued for a mile down the road. 
 St. Julien felt that he could always take the measure of his 
 pursuers feet. He had very much the best horses. He did 
 not urge his beasts. Looking back, from time to time, he saw 
 that the pursuing force was scattered the better mounted were 
 considerably a-head of the rest leaving the party in advance 
 very little more numerous than his own. He kept his troop ir 
 hand, ready for the moment. 
 
 When Turkey creek was passed, he sounded the rally, 
 wheeled about, gave his steed the goad, and dashed on to the 
 embrace of sabres. His steel crossed with that of Fitzgerald.. 
 The shock of the two parties was fierce and the strife sharp. It 
 lasted, however, but a moment. Soon the whole force of the 
 British cavalry pressed up to the melee, and the retreat was 
 once more resumed. A few saddles on both sides had been 
 emptied in the brief discussion, and the two captains had pretty 
 well warmed with their gallant passage-at-arms. 
 
492 THE FORAYEES. 
 
 Fitzgerald felt that liis foe could leave him at any moment, 
 and he taunted him with a fling at his chivalry. St. Julieii 
 only smiled as he answered : 
 
 " Another time, my lord. You hold the pledge of Peyre St. 
 Julien that he will not always fly." 
 
 " Peyre St. Julien ! Ah ! ha ! That is the gallant of Carrie 
 Sinclair !" And with the recollection, his lordship urged even 
 more keenly the pursuit than before. He now had a personal 
 feeling in the matter. 
 
 It was not St. Julien s policy to be driven into Orangeburg, 
 where he might find his hands full, with Stuart s buffs and 
 Coffin s cavalry, fresh from the city. Nor was it his game to 
 venture below that place, with the chance of meeting this foice 
 on the road ; and, very soon there would be small choice of 
 roads, two only offering, one obliquing in an eastern direc 
 tion, and running sinuously from the village to the Santee, 
 heading the Four-holes swamp ; the other crossing the Caw-caw 
 a mile from the village, being the very route which he had de 
 signed to pursue, but from which he had been diverted by the 
 tidings, brought by his scouts, of a large body of mounted men. 
 That body of mounted men too, lay between him and all these 
 points, unless they had changed their ground in the last few 
 hours. But he was necessarily compelled to reason and to act 
 ns if they still were in his path. He was thus between two or 
 more enemies. Unless he could strike into the woods, and cut 
 directly across the country, he was in danger of falling, one 
 side or the other, into the meshes of a more powerful foe. The 
 shortest course, and boldest, was still the best. 
 
 He must try and cripple his immediate pursuer, and so dis 
 able him, as to be able to take the woods without risking pur 
 suit from this one source of annoyance. 
 
 Done attempted rather almost as soon as resolved upon. 
 
 Again, the eagerness of the pursuit had divided the force of 
 the pursuers. 
 
 St. Julien timed his performances, with a due regard to this 
 circumstance. Again, at a given signal, he wheeled about, 
 li- ught his troop to the charge, and spurred forward, a bride 
 abattue, and with such a shout from the lungs of all, as betrayed 
 the resolution for a most desperate trial of strength. 
 
SKRIMMAGING. 493 
 
 The shock was beautifully given, and manfully borne. But 
 Fitzgerald himself went down before it, his horse reeling, and 
 finally rolling over him. The clash and clatter of the sabro 
 followed, sounds like the tinkering of a thousand kettles, and 
 ugly cuts were given and taken, and more than one saddle 
 emptied. The foremost squad of Fitzgerald he himself 
 was nearly lost, when his rear came up in separate bodies each 
 producing its effect upon the field. The young Irish lord, 
 bruised only, recovered his legs and saddle. A few more 
 mounted men galloped up from Rawdon s army ; others were 
 beginning to appear ; the enemy was increasing, and St. Julien 
 was forced once more to show his back to the pursuers. 
 
 They pressed him closely. His troop was much more jaded 
 than the enemy. His several charges, upon the tories first, and 
 subsequently upon the force of Fitzgerald, began to tell upon 
 his horses, while his pursuers, on the other hand, their move 
 ments timed to those of a fagged and exhausted infantry, were 
 comparatively fresh. 
 
 The flight began to falter ; the chase increased in earnestness. 
 The parties were now but a mile from Orangeburg, and again 
 they mingled in pell-mell conflict. 
 
 It was now forced upon the partisans against their desires. 
 The game became serious. St. Julien was hardly pressed, and 
 several of his men were down. The whole of the mounted 
 force of the British, numbering ninety men or more, had reached 
 the field of strife, and, for half-a-mile, along the main road, the 
 conflict was going on among the separated groups. 
 
 " Yield, Captain St. Julien, and have good terms," cried Fitz 
 gerald approaching him. 
 
 " It will be time enough for that hereafter," was the reply of 
 St. Julien. The swords of the two again crossed. It was quick 
 work. Both were good swordsmen ; both good riders ; both of 
 similar build, and probably the same degree of strength. 
 
 One, two, three ! 
 
 Cut ! point ! 
 
 How beautifully the sabres flashed, clashed, clove together and 
 recoiled. 
 
 But, suddenly, the champions were dashed asunder. Wave 
 after wave roll 3d in between them. The stunning blare from 
 
494 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 twenty bugles the stunning shouts from five hundred gieal, 
 stentorian throats startled all the echoes of Caw-caw ! Fitz 
 gerald, he knew not how, found himself suddenly in full flight, 
 followed close hy all his troopers; his fine, painted volunteer 
 cavalry his handsome painted knights with scarlet coats, 
 flaring feathers, and any quantity of gold lace and crimson 
 sashes, were driving wildly a-hea^ sauve qui pent, sounding in 
 the ear of every instinct. 
 
 Fitzgerald was a little stunned had some curious sensations 
 about the head and ears was about to ask of a dozen, as they 
 hurried up, after the secret of this new uproar when he began 
 to distinguish the meaning of the shouts which followed him. 
 
 " Marion s men ! Marion s men ! Hurrah for the old swamp- 
 fox !" 
 
 It was Marion, indeed, just coming up from his dash at 
 Stewart s convoy. He brought with him four hundred mounted 
 men. Hotly was the chase pressed upon the young Irish 
 gallant. Trooper after trooper of his handsome little squad 
 ron was picked up or cut down as they rode and ran! It 
 was with the cheer of half-drowning men that the fugitives 
 hailed the sight of Rawdon s red-coats, coming on at a trot, and 
 opening to receive and shelter them, with presented bayonets 
 toward their foes. 
 
 The musketry now began to speak from the advancing 
 columns, and the troopers of the swamp-fox drew in their bridles,, 
 and yielded slowly arid sullenly, before the advancing infantry 
 of the British. 
 
PROGRESS OF THE ARMIES. 495 
 
 CHAPTER XLII, 
 
 PROGRESS OF THE ARMIES. 
 
 THE British army was able to repel the mounted men of 
 Marion to compel them to maintain a respectful distance 
 but not to drive them off. It was with a sore and angry spirit 
 that Lord Ilawdon beheld the squadron of the partisans hover 
 ing on front and. flank, eagerly watching for the opportunity to 
 swoop down and cut off stragglers, and carry off baggage-wagons. 
 And he could do nothing, wanting cavalry. His flanks, and 
 front, and rear, were closely watched by his musketry, and at 
 a measured pace, drooping forward, in depression and exhaus 
 tion, he moved on in order of battle, momently expecting its 
 shock from the army of Greene. 
 
 "Heavens!" said Marion to his officers, as he watched the 
 progress of the foe with the eager appetite of the hawk. " If 
 our infantry were but present ! How we should cut them up. 
 They are ready to drop with exhaustion. It is our presence 
 >iily that keeps them up." 
 
 Such was the case ! Never was army so broken in spirit, by 
 the terribly exhausting effects of a forced march in midsummer, 
 and by the dispiriting and demoralizing effect of such a situation, 
 lacking in the one arm, that of cavalry, which alone, against 
 such a force as that of Marion, could protect them from insult. 
 
 And, staggering forward, the British army slowly worked 
 along, as compact in mass as it could be made, with bristles 
 every side presented, not daring to pause, not daring to hurry, 
 with those keen sabres, and eager horsemen skirting and sweep 
 ing all about them, watchful of the opportunity to swoop and 
 strike ! 
 
 But, suddenly, they send up a cheer. Bugles were heard in 
 front, the drums were rolling of approaching forces from below 
 
490 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Stewart had marched from Orangebnrg with his regiment of 
 buffs and the cavalry of Coffin, for the relief of his superior. 
 As the two bodies drew near to a junction, the bugles of Marion 
 sounded, and his mounted men seemed to melt away in the 
 .woods between them, passing out of sight, and upward, to the 
 road crossing the Caw-caw, the one which St. Julien was com 
 pelled to avoid, in consequence of the report of his scouts. 
 Coffin s cavalry made a demonstration upon the rear of our par 
 tisans, seconded by the squad of Fitzgerald, but they were 
 roughly handled in the brief collision, and fell back upon their 
 columns of infantry. 
 
 Marion drew rein just above the crossing of the Caw-caw 
 He could dispute this passage. But the British were in no con 
 dition to pursue. No sooner had the junction of the two com 
 mands been effected, than they pressed on for Orangeburg, in 
 no temper for conflict; and as soon as they had gone into quar 
 ters, the scouts of Marion were all about the place. Their 
 allies within it were not idle ; and the parties, singly, stole in 
 and out during the day and night, under cover of the swamps 
 of Edisto. 
 
 That very day Marion sent a despatch to Greene, of which 
 we need quote but a single sentence : 
 
 " They are neither able to fight nor fly. They are in a state 
 of utter exhaustion, too fatigued to move. The report is that 
 three regiments were going to lay down their arms to-day, and 
 they will certainly do so, if required again to march. They 
 have no notion that any force is near them except mine. Let 
 the army come on before they can recover. We have them in 
 a trap. One vigorous effort may close the war. Their Irish 
 troops need but few arguments to turn their bayonets against 
 their masters." 
 
 And Greene eagerly prepared to adopt this counsel, issuing 
 his orders instantly for the concentration of all his forces about 
 Orangeburg, except that single command under Pickens, which 
 was following closely upon the footsteps of Cruger and his loy 
 alists, harassing them, whenever possible, on their retreat. 
 
 But we are not to suppose that St. Julien suffered all these 
 proceedings of the army to^ continue, without giving any heed 
 to the condition of the travelling party whom he had secreted 
 
PROGRESS OF THE ARMIES. 497 
 
 in the woods. While the actual pressure continued of the fight 
 with the cavalry of Fitzgerald, and subsequently, while Marion 
 hovered about the British army, and up to the moment when 
 its junction with Stewart forbade any further hope of a success 
 ful demonstration upon it, there was no escape for the little 
 command which St. Julien led. There had been, in fact, nc 
 time for any explanation with his superior, until the moment 
 when, crossing the Caw-caw, they had driven back the cavalry 
 of Coffin. Then it was that St. Julien had an opportunity of 
 communicating with Sinclair, to whom he revealed the particu 
 lars of his progress. Meanwhile hours had passed. The day 
 was now late in the afternoon. 
 
 " Good heavens, Peyre, what a tedious time they must have 
 had of it, and where shall we be able to get them to, to-night V 
 
 " Nay, let that be the after-thought. We must be content to 
 recover them first and relieve their anxiety. Get leave for 
 me at once, unless you desire to go yourself." 
 
 " We shall both go. I will see the general for a moment." 
 
 And to Marion he went. The latter did not hear him out. 
 
 " To be sure, Sinclair ; relieve the ladies as soon as possible. 
 What a time they have had of it. But, bring them along with 
 you. They can find the way up to Herrisperger s to-night, and 
 to-morrow you can send them directly across the country to the 
 Congaree. Do not delay, remember. We can not spare you 
 can spare nobody now for any length of time. To-morrow 
 we may have work. Remember, the wishes of the ladies must 
 give way to our necessities. They must come with you. I 
 can not spare you to go with them. Take St. Julien s troop. 
 They will suffice." 
 
 And Sinclair, with St. Julien, started off at a smart canter, 
 without heeding the laggard, limping movement of their steeds. 
 They talked as they rode, compared notes, reported mutual 
 progress, and without loss of time, made their calculations and 
 aiTar.ireviients for the future. It was arranged that Mrs. Travis 
 and licrtiia would need no escort the next day, taking the 
 upper route to the Congaree, in a progress over a region which 
 the patriots almost wholly covered, now that Rawdon s force 
 was withdrawn from it. They were, at all events, compelled to 
 gee that no escort fro n the army could now be accorded to their 
 
498 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 wishes. Of course, there was something said of Mr. Travis 
 and Henry, and some speculations as to the mode of seeking 
 and recovering them ; but this was necessarily a matter of more 
 remote consideration. For the ladies now. 
 
 And so scheming and arranging, they at length reached the 
 spot where the carriage had sought harborage, and where 
 Bertha had been counselled how, and with what ingredients, to 
 fashion her bouquet. 
 
 " This is the place. Here they put in, you see," said St. 
 Julien, and he led the way. 
 
 The carriage-wheels were followed deep into the woods, as 
 deeply as it could go. Here they came to a halt. Their visages 
 grew blank. St. Julien picked up a bouquet of wild flowers, 
 very rich, fashioned very much after his directions. Sinclair 
 found a handkerchief, with Bertha s initials in the corner. 
 Cato s hat was also upon the ground. But carriage, ladies, 
 Cato all were gone ! 
 
 " Good heavens, Peyre ! what can this mean ? What has 
 become of them ?" 
 
 " Let us look about, Willie." 
 
 Trembling like a leaf in the winds of autumn, with the 
 agitating apprehensions of his soul, Willie Sinclair leaped from 
 his steed, and examined the ground more closely. So did St. 
 Julien. The troopers, meanwhile, coursed about in search also 
 At length, sickening as he spoke, Sinclair stooping, sank upon 
 his knees, and cried out, in voice at once hoarse and feeble : 
 
 " Peyre ! Peyre ! Is it blood ?" 
 
 He pointed as he spoke to a dark crimson puddle at his 
 feet. 
 
 " It is blood !" answered St. Juiien in husky tones, and he 
 shuddered with terrible fancies as he spoke. 
 
 " Oh, God ! be merciful !" murmured the strong man, as he 
 gazed into the puddle, as if seeking to discover, from its quality, 
 from whose heart it had issued. There were drops of the same 
 dark hue scattered freely about. All was clotted, hard, and 
 drying rapidly. 
 
 " Get up, Willie ! Arouse you ! We must try and find the 
 track of the carriage, and follow it. They are gone from 
 hence." 
 
PROGRESS OP THE ARMIES. 499 
 
 " Oh ! Peyre ! Peyre ! Why did you leave them for a mo 
 ment ?" 
 
 Do not reproach me, Willie ; let us be men now. Let us 
 search. Let us follow !" 
 
 For a few moments, Sinclair gave full way to his grief, in a 
 wild burst of reproach and anguish. 
 
 "You were my friend, Peyre my more than brother. I 
 trusted you with the woman whom I had planted in my heart, 
 and you have left her to be murdered." 
 
 " I will recover her, Willie Sinclair, or perish myself. She 
 is not murdered ! Who would murder her ? What motive ?" 
 
 "The blood! the blood!" shrieked, rather than spoke, the 
 strong but suffering man. 
 
 "It is not hers! Myj life on it, it is not hers!" was the 
 stern and confident reply of St. Julien. " But we must waste 
 no time lose no opportunity in the indulgence of our weak 
 ness. Let us look farther. Let us see if we can not track the 
 carriage." 
 
 Sinclair aroused himself with a prodigious effort. 
 
 They searched. They found the place where the vehicle had 
 been wheeled about had been drawn into the road again, 
 some fifty yards from where it had entered traced its track 
 into the old furrows of the road, and there it merged in with 
 others so as to become indistinguishable. It had evidently 
 pursued, for awhile, a due northerly direction. 
 
 To dash ahead, to review the crossing at the old mill-seat 
 where St. Julien had surprised the tories under Watkins, to 
 stretch on a few miles farther to another crossing, at another 
 abandoned mill-seat, was the work of comparatively little time. 
 Here they fancied they again found traces of the carriage- 
 wheels. They were mistaken ; but of this hereafter. 
 
 "They have crossed here into the Granby road," said St. 
 Julien. 
 
 " It is more than probable. Let us push after them," said 
 Sinclair ; we can surely overtake them. In that heavy carriage 
 they can move but slowly." 
 
 " Willie, let me prosecute the search. Give me but ten men, 
 and do you hurry back to camp, and obtain my excuse from 
 Marion.* 
 
500 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " And why should you pursue the search and not me 1 What 
 Is Bertha Travis to you ? No ! Peyre ; do you go hack to the 
 general, and state the facts. Leave me the ten men." 
 
 " But, Willie, rememher your responsibility. You command 
 a battalion. I can be better spared." 
 
 " Do as I tell you, Peyre !" 
 
 " Willie, we are on the eve of a battle ! You must not be 
 absent. You heard what the general said." 
 
 " You talk as if I should be suspected of skulking from 
 battle." 
 
 " I talk as I should to my brother." 
 
 " What ! you would peril your reputation for mine ! Is that 
 it 1 Do I not know, that your absence at such a moment is as 
 fearful a trial for you as for me, Peyre ? No ! no ! my brother ! 
 The discredit is equal with both of us, if any there be, and 
 mine is the chief stake in this pursuit mine is the loss and 
 danger which alone could justify absence, at such a time, from 
 the army. Go you back. Tell the general the simple truth. 
 You shall peril nothing of reputation for me, Peyre, and, mor 
 tifying as it will be to me to be absent, yet I dare not, even at 
 the peril of my reputation, consent that Bertha Travis should 
 be exposed to danger and insult, when a bold effort of mine 
 might save her." 
 
 " Let me seek and save her, dear Willie ; it is almost a right. 
 It was I that lost her." 
 
 " No, Peyre ! you must return. I was unjust to you. You 
 could not have done otherwise than you did. Back with you, 
 with all speed, and tell the whole affair to Marion. He will do 
 me justice. I will push the pursuit to-night to-morrow I 
 will be back to camp by midnight. In that time, should I 
 fail to overtake her, I shall know that I have taken the wrong 
 track. Here, it seems to be sufficiently marked to warrant my 
 taking it. I will do all that I can that I may not suffer future 
 self-reproach for supineness and timidity now." 
 
 We shall understand the generous impulses of these young men, 
 when we remember how much a military reputation depends 
 upon the prompt recognition of the claims of duty, over all other 
 considerations, no matter of what sort, when armies are about 
 to be pitched foi battle. Sinclair was the military superior of 
 
PROGRESS OF THE ARMIES. 501 
 
 St. Julien. He was the elder also. His Avas the loss in the 
 abduction of Bertha. All things, all arguments concurred in 
 compelling the submission of the subordinate. But it was with 
 great reluctance that he tore himself away, leaving to Willie 
 Sinclair the task of pursuing the farther search, with the ten 
 troopers, after his mistress and her mother. 
 
 And the two rode different ways. 
 
 " Blood ! blood ! Oh ! God ! if it should be hers !" 
 
 And murmuring thus ever as he went, Willie Sinclair dashed 
 away on the supposed tracks of the fugitives, crossed the Caw- 
 caw at the old mill- seat, and coursed up the road which led to 
 Qranby. 
 
 And as St. Julien rode back to camp, his subject of musing 
 was that speaking, yet unintelligible blood, proof also proof 
 of crime and violence and suffering ! but whose ? proof of suf 
 fering but not of the victim ! That terrible doubt. The 
 agony of it to both. 
 
 " It is not hers ! not hers ! No ! no ! of that I am sure. 
 Who would stab or murder that young creature 1 or her mother ? 
 Why ! with what purpose ? To what end ? No ! If any 
 body, it is poor old Cato that has been slain ! The good old 
 fellow has undertaken to defend his mistress, arid has been 
 butchered. 
 
 " But who are the murderers ? Where could they spring 
 from ?" 
 
 St. Julien was soon bewildered in the mazes of his own con 
 jecture. The natural suggestion was that of the interposition 
 of some strolling body of tories, small squads of whom were 
 everywhere scattered about the country, engaged in all out 
 lawed practices, and bent wholly on private revenge, and indis 
 criminate plunder. The thought that Bertha Travis and her 
 mother, had fallen into such hands, though not calculated to 
 produce any serious apprehensions for their lives for women 
 are not usually victims to violence in the south was yet very 
 far from a grateful or assuring one. There were crimes to 
 which even that of murder might wear a comparatively innocent 
 complexion. 
 
 But we need not trouble ourselves with the musings of St 
 Julien. He reached Marion after dark, and made his report 
 
502 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 The swamp-fox was one of the most indulgent of commander! 
 in the case of such of his officers as he knew to be faithful and 
 honorable. In respect to Sinclair and St. Julien, he was very 
 well assured that neither of them had the slightest disposition 
 to skulk from duty. The case of Sinclair he felt to be one to 
 justify a more decided departure from orders than the one 
 for which St. Julien apologized. Marion was not only no Mar 
 tinet, but he was perhaps a little disposed to regard the regular 
 service as quite too exacting, and as not sufficiently recognising 
 the claims of humanity. But for the crisis in army affairs, 
 which was generally supposed to be pending but that he 
 hoped to see the main army brought into the field in twenty- 
 four hours, and Rawdon forced to the final arbitrament of the 
 sword in that space of time he would have suffered St. Julien 
 to depart, with all his command, in support of his friend. It 
 was with a feeling of great uneasiness that he resolved not to 
 do so ; and with some misgivings, when he threw himself down 
 beneath his tree that night, whether he had not been a little 
 too exacting, in not tendering him the leave of absence, with 
 his troop, which might better enable Sinclair to recover his 
 mistress. 
 
 Meanwhile, our major of dragoons crossed the Caw-caw and 
 pressed northward. He rode till night, sometimes fancying 
 that he had recovered the tracks of the carriage, but much won 
 dering at its rapid progress. He camped at night in a thicket 
 near the trail, which he could no longer pursue in the darkness, 
 and resumed the chase with the dawn. He rode half the day, 
 but rode in vain. He had watched the road narrowly ; looked 
 needfully at every cross-road and turn-out ; searched or in 
 quired at every house or hovel ; saw nothing ; heard nothing ; 
 and, at the close of another day, was compelled to feel that he 
 had lost all traces of the fugitives. 
 
 Marion, meanwhile, with his brigade of mounted men, had 
 recrossed the Caw-caw, and taken post on the north side of the 
 creek which crosses the old Orangeburg road to Granby, foui 
 miles above the village. Here he awaited the approach of 
 Greene, maintaining, all the while, a vigilant^ watch upon his 
 enemy in Orangeburg. His cavalry was in such strength, 
 compared to that of llawdon, that his parties approached the 
 
PROGRESS OF THE ARMIES. 503 
 
 village, and swept audaciously around it without challenge 01 
 pursuit. 
 
 On the 10th of July, Greene had collected together most of 
 his detachments, and, reinforced by Sumter with his brigade, and 
 some small parties of militia, he marched down to give his en 
 emy battle. After he had joined Marion, it was found that the 
 whole American army numbered a little over two thousand 
 men ; but of these only eight hundred were infantry. The 
 force of Rawdon, including Stewart s command, was about six 
 teen hundred disciplined men, and perhaps two hundred super 
 numeraries upon whom no reliance could be placed. With so 
 small a force of infantry, in proportion to his cavalry, Greene 
 could not have encountered Rawdon in a pitched battle, unless 
 with some peculiar advantage of posi ion; while Rawdon, hav 
 ing no cavalry, could venture upon no enterprises which might 
 remove him from his covered position. In artillery the two 
 armies were nearly equal. 
 
 At the point where Marion (and afterward Greene) took post, 
 only four miles from Rawdon s garrison, the fact of doing so 
 was an invitation to battle. To take ground within eight or 
 ten miles of an enemy s position is a military challenge. But 
 Rawdon surveyed his antagonist from his sheltered places, with 
 a grim sort of contempt, taking no notice apparently of the in 
 dignity offered him. Nothing would have better pleased this 
 gentleman than to march out, as he had done at Camden, and 
 give his ancient opponent battle. But he had too much at stake 
 to peril anything for the present, and he preferred waiting until 
 the arrival of Cruger from Ninety-Six should give him such a 
 preponderating force as would make the issue almost certain to 
 be successful. His hope was that Greene, pleased with the 
 mortifying position in which his presence placed the British 
 army, would linger in the neighborhood sufficiently long to en 
 able him to realize the junction with Cruger. He took no oc 
 casion therefore to show disquiet, or to beat up the American 
 quarters. He made no sorties ; he attempted no negotiations. 
 Still he was uneasy. The Americans had cut off his resources. 
 He was for the time isolated. The parties of Marion swept 
 round him hourly, and the only outlet left him was ~y the 
 bridge over the Edisto and into the forks between the 
 
504 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 branches of that stream, which his batteries covered. And this 
 was a region which was now almost reduced to barrenness. 
 
 Greene dreaded the appearance of Cruger qnite as greatly 
 as Rawdon desired it. He knew that the junction of the two 
 would increase the force of Rawdon to nearly or quite three 
 thousand men, and those whom Cruger brought with him were 
 veterans, and not, like the new Irish regiments of Rawdon, of 
 uncertain fidelity. He determined, therefore, if possible, to an 
 ticipate the approach of Cruger, by forcing Rawdon to battle. 
 
 We have already described the position of Orangeburg, but 
 it may be necessary in this place, to state that, lying on the 
 east bank of the North Edisto, the river so winds about it as to 
 cover one half of its circumference. To the north and south 
 are swamps and ravines, which not only forbid the free use of 
 cavalry in which so much of Greene s strength consisted 
 but these swamps and ravines make so near an approach to 
 each other, as to leave, on the east side, but a narrow isthmus, 
 uneven and broken, upon which an assailant could operate. 
 The jail, a strong brick building of two stories, was a good 
 substitute for a redoubt, and this building with others contigu 
 ous, commanded the approach. AH of these Rawdon occupied. 
 The crown of the hill, on which this building stood, was suffi 
 ciently spacious for the formation and manoeuvres of the whole 
 British army. To these chief defences, when you add the 
 houses and fences of the town, it will be seen that, against a 
 force consisting chiefly of mounted militia, the place was one of 
 considerable strength. 
 
 Greene s reconnaissances, which put him in possession of these 
 facts, compelled him to hesitate in his first resolution of forcing 
 the British general to battle. A conference with his officers 
 not exactly a council of war followed, which resulted, as 
 usual in such cases, in the adoption of the safer policy ; we are 
 not prepared to say the wiser one. The Americans, for the 
 moment, were in high spirits, the British depressed by fatigue, 
 and vexed with discontent. The impediments of the ground 
 were not such as, in the present state of military science, would 
 be called strong. The houses occupied by Rawdon, with the 
 exception of the jail, \iere wood. The eminence they occu 
 pied was exceedingly slight and of gradual rise. The aj> 
 
PROGRESS OF THE ARMIES. f>06 
 
 preaches might be made on several quarters, and artillery .night 
 have been successfully employed upon the jaiL 
 
 No doubt the true reason why the assault was not made, is 
 to be found in the American want of infantry and the propel 
 arms and implements. With a thousand bayonets, supported 
 by artillery, and accompanied by a cloud of riflemen, there is 
 no question that the natural defences of the place would have 
 been wholly disregarded and easily overcome. Even with the 
 force he had, .were inoy well supplied with rations, Greene 
 might have made a successful demonstration. But a few ounces 
 of rice, and two ounces of lean beef, per diem, to a man who is 
 expected to charge up a rising ground in the face of a well- 
 appointed garrison, offer but small incentives to valiant enter 
 prise. 
 
 Contenting himself with marching before, and in sight of 
 Rawdon s position, with his whole army, on the 12th, Greene 
 then drew off his forces. He had put a military insult upon 
 his enemy, and there is always some satisfaction in that achieve 
 ment, to both regulars and militia. He drew back to his camp 
 that night, and before morning was advised by his scouting 
 parties of the progress downward of Cruger s division. In an 
 other day he might be expected to arrive. It became neces 
 sary to prepare for early removal, since there could be no ques 
 tion but that Rawdon, as soon as the junction could be made 
 with Cruger, would march out, and witli a force with A\ r hich the 
 Americans could hardly hope to contend. We may mention, 
 in addition, that Greene s marches had not been made wii^out 
 considerable exhaustion to his own troops. His infantry needed 
 rest. It was rapidly succumbing to fatigue, the want of 
 proper food and the terrible severity of the climate. But a 
 good supper on the Edisto was necessary to fit them for further 
 fatigues, and for this the camp-kettles were put in requisition at 
 a very early hour. What sort of supper was to be had, and 
 where it was to come from, were questions that exercised the 
 conjectural ingenuity of all parties to a far greater extent than 
 did the future prospects and possibilities of the war ! 
 
 22 
 
06 THE FOBAYERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 THE FROG CONCERT AN1? CAMPAIGN. 
 
 THE army of Greene were taking rest for the first time foi 
 several days, at the close of that which witnessed their insulting 
 demonstrations before the garrison of Orangeburg. We have 
 seen that their camp lay only four miles from that village: a 
 mellow sunset overspread the scene, and gentle breezes from the 
 west cooled off sweetly the heat of a day, the ardency of which 
 had severely tried tried all parties. The utmost languor for 
 a while pervaded the encampment. The troops lay about upon 
 the grass, under the trees, with half-shut eyes, enjoying that 
 dreamy sensation which supervenes after fatigue, and before 
 recuperation mind and body in concert, as it were, for mutual 
 restoration. But few of the groups visible in our foreground, 
 were capable of exertion, and but few, indeed, of those whom 
 we do not see, were any more equal to it than those immediate 
 ly before our eyes. Here and there, some important adjutant, 
 ensign, or corporal, might be found, restlessly employed, giving 
 orders about the use of moonshine. Troopers who had thrown 
 their chief burdens on the loins of their horses, were, perhaps, 
 the most lively ; and groups of these were to be seen, busy in 
 consuming the last drops of sunshine and Jamaica at command, 
 while flirting the cards at " old sledge" from well-thumbed and 
 greasy packs of " pictures," pitching quoits, or grooming horses 
 We confess that Marion s men were the chief sinners after this 
 fashion ; his boys of Santee, Pedee, Waccamaw, and the parish 
 country generally, having a sort of natural calling for the fine 
 arts, were busy with cards and coppers at every rest. Cards 
 and dice constituted so many fine arts in their hands. It was 
 the boast of some of them that they could extract all sorts of 
 L music, fun, and philosophy, from the four aces. 
 
THE FKOG CONCUR! AND CAMPAIGN. 507 
 
 To this general rest and languor of the army, there were, 
 however, some striking exceptions. The command of Marion 
 stretched toward the Caw-caw. In the woods of this region, an 
 hour before sunset, there might be seen a squad of twenty 
 troopers, dark, bronzed, half-naked young savages, following, 
 with some interest, the speech and movements of a large, 
 broad-shouldered, and great-bellied personage, wearing the 
 uniform somewhat doubtful, indeed, because of rents, stains, 
 and deficiencies of a captain of dragoons. He was on foot, 
 and by no means active of movement, though taking his steps 
 with the confidence of a war-horse, and the solid firmness of an 
 elephant. He was a line-looking fellow, in spite of the too 
 great obtrusion upon the sight of his abdominal territory, a re 
 gion which he, nevertheless, endeavored to circumscribe within 
 reasonable bounds by a girthing of leather, only half covered 
 with a crimson sash, which no doubt had the desired effect in 
 some degree, though at some sacrifice of the wearer s comforts 
 His face was full almost as the moon at full, of a ruddy brown, 
 his head massive, chin large and prominent eyes, bright but 
 small, and mouth eager with animation. His nose was decided 
 ly intellectual. At his elbow stood a negro, jacket off, and arms 
 akimbo, .who followed the motions of his superior with a mixed 
 air of deference. and assurance. Around these two the troopers 
 were gathered. Before the group, slaughtered and skinned, 
 hanging from a tree, was one of the lean beeves of the country 
 
 a poor skinny beast, weighing some two hundred pounds, 
 gross, bone, meat, skin, offal ! Near at hand stood a small, rick 
 ety, covered wagon, the contents of which we may conjecture. 
 It was one of Marion s recent captures from the convoy of 
 Stewart; and contained, no doubt, some resources, the value 
 of which may be guessed from the mysterious looks which 
 were, every now and then, cast upon it by passing groups of 
 thirsty dragoons, the very glances of whom are apt to burst 
 locks, and consume stores/ 
 
 Our captain was busy with the commissariat of the brigade 
 
 not as the head of it, by no means, but as premier head- 
 counsellor, and legal and moral adviser. 
 
 " I tell you, Fielding, it >vill never do. Tell me there were 
 no better beeves to be had ! You have just taken what thej 
 
508 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 please to give you. You are too modest. It is the infirmity 
 of your family, whenever the interest is not absolutely and 
 directly your own. We do this business of foraging for all the 
 army, yet it seems that the meanest share is always to fall to 
 us. Tell me nothing of Colonel Lee. He has an independent 
 legion; let him pick up his own beeves. AS for the field- 
 officers, I do not see that their official position confers upon 
 them any right to better tastes and appetites than a poor cap 
 tain of partisan cavalry. I thank my stars that I have tastes 
 which are as well cultivated as any brigadier or colonel in the 
 army. And shall my tastes be defrauded, because these epau- 
 letted buffaloes are greedy, and you are mealy-mouthed ? Why 
 the devil don t you assert yourself, man, and assist us, as you 
 should, when the distribution of the beef takes place 1 You are 
 a fool, Pickling, for your submission ! Colonel Lee s man steps 
 before you, and says, * Colonel Lee; and Colonel Washington s 
 man starts up, and says, Colonel Washington and these, 
 arid a score of others, even while they speak, clap hands on 
 the best pieces, and choose the fattest flanks ; and when all are 
 served, you steal up, with finger in your mouth, and murmur, 
 Is anything left for General Marion V Is that the way to do 
 business ? I tell you, No, sir ! Your true way is to take the 
 best that offers lay bold hands on it nay, thrust it through 
 with your naked sabre, and say, Marion s brand! Do the 
 tiling as you should, with the proper look and manner, and not 
 a rapscallion in the army, representing no matter what division, 
 dare lay hands on it after that ! If they do, let me be at your 
 elbow next time, with two or three fellows of my. choosing!" 
 
 " But, Captain Porgy " 
 
 " But me no buts, Mr. Fickling. I ll have you out of your 
 office, if you do not but against this sort of distribution. You 
 are to provide us ; and, if you do not comprehend that our sol 
 diers are just as deserving of good food as any continentals in 
 the service, you are not fit for our service, and I ll have you 
 out of it. General Marion himself submits quite too much to 
 this sort of treatment. If there is a fine horse in the brigade, 
 it is immediately wanted for some one of Lee s dragoons some 
 d d henchman or bugleman and off the colonel goes to 
 Greene and tells him that his legion wants horses, and that 
 
THE FROG CONCERT AND CAMPAIGN. 500 
 
 Marion has enough and to spare, and we are called upon to dis 
 mount, and provide other people. Yet are we kept day and 
 night on the trot off to-day for the Pon-pon and Savannah, 
 to-morrow for the Pedee now running down tories, now cat 
 tle; seeking information, scouting, spying, called out at all 
 hours ; and hoAV is this to he done, if we are to give up our 
 horses. The brigade has covered all this low country, from the 
 Pedee to the Savannah, for three years and more, and the best 
 that is got in the forays that we alone make, are served out to 
 these hungry feeders. I won t submit to it. They shall neither 
 have my horses nor my. cattle ; and if you take any more such 
 beef as this, Fickling, when better is to be had, we ll turn you, 
 nock and heels, out of your department." 
 
 "But, Captain Porgy " 
 
 "See to it!" 
 
 " But" 
 
 " See to it ! That s all ! I say no more to you ! Tom !" 
 
 "Sah!" 
 
 " Get our share of that carrion ! See what you can do with 
 it. We must have soup, I suppose. Make a pilaw. We have 
 plenty of pepper now. You can hardly get a decent steak from 
 the beast. But do what you can. I must see after something 
 more. We are to have company to-night. I have asked the 
 great men, the big-wigs, the governor, Generals Marion and 
 Sumter, the colonels of the brigade, Maham, Singleton, and 
 a few others. Have everything ready by ten o clock. Did 
 you succeed in getting any melons ?" 
 
 " I empty one patch, maussa." 
 
 " Whose ?" 
 
 " I dunn know quite zackly, but he s a fiel jes yer on de 
 back ob de village. De melons is quite spectable." 
 
 " Ripe ?" 
 
 " As de sunshine kin make em." 
 
 " Good ! Do as much stealing in an honest way as you can ! 
 D n the patriotism that can t eat stolen fruits !" 
 
 " Wha* else you guine hab, maussa." 
 
 " Who knows what I can get ? I must look. There ought to 
 be frogs here in abundance, and of good size. Not such as we 
 can find in a rice reserve, Tom, but passable in war-time, and 
 
610 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 delicate enough for hot weather. I shall look out for a young 
 alligator or two." 
 
 " Dat ll do ! Gi me two young alligator tail, and de frog, 
 and I gi you fus rate tuttle soup and ball, and steak." 
 
 " Must have a ragout, Tom. Have you seen no pigs about, 
 Tom !" 
 
 " Nebber yer de fas squeak, maussa." 
 
 "Well" with a grunt "we must do as we can. Come, 
 boys, are you ready ?" 
 
 "Ay, ay, captain !" from a score of voices; and a dozen ac 
 tive young fellows presented themselves, armed with wooden 
 spears and knives. 
 
 " Where s George Dennison ?" 
 
 A voice answered from the foot of a tree. 
 
 " Come along, George ; don t be lazy. What you shall see 
 this evening will enable you to beat Homer in a new epic, in 
 which cranes and frogs shall figure to posterity." 
 
 And, following the corpulent captain, the whole party pushed 
 down to the swamp. 
 
 " There s a battalion for you, George Dennison. Not a 
 rascal under six feet half a dozen nearer seven. I chose 
 them specially for the expedition. They are our cranes, and 
 are all eager for the war." 
 
 " And the frogs are sounding for the conflict. Hear their 
 tongues, already. The concert for the evening is begun. Hear 
 the chirruping overture : 
 
 " Fry bacon tea-table 1 
 Coyong! coyong! coyong! 
 Supper on table supper on table, 
 Eat if you re able! 
 Blood an ounds blood an ounds. 
 
 " By the way, captain, a frog concert, would not be a bad 
 speculation in the great cities of Europe. How a score or two 
 of musical fellows, who had once or twice slept in our swamps. 
 or lingered after sunset along our rice-fields, would make capi 
 tal out. of it ! And such a sensation. What a hurly-burly, 
 subdued to order, they could make of it." 
 
 " No doubt ! The notes and tones occupy every note of the 
 gamut ! It is a rare original music. But the secret would lie 
 
THE FROG CONCERT AND CAMPAIGN. f U 
 
 in making the music tributary to satire. The frogs should fur 
 nish a running commentary on the follies and vices of society 
 as in Aristophanes, only adapted to our times. Tt would task 
 art admirably to work out of it an opera the Loves of the 
 Frogs ! Little Squeaka, the dreaming sentimental damsel, just 
 emerging into society corning out; in her train some half a 
 dozen Jockos minnows of fashion, that sing in a love-lisp 
 always Therubina ! ah ! Therubina ! Oh the rich fun of such 
 a farcical ! Of what a delightful variety would the affair admit ! 
 The lover, the villain, the priest, the mother all the usual 
 varieties, not forgetting Arlecchino. Of course, the frogs are 
 not less fortunate than their betters. They have a Jack Pud 
 ding among them. The squirrels have I know." 
 
 "Don t forget the duenna! Hear her falsetto, squeaking 
 through a score of crevices in her broken teeth : 
 
 " On your knees, 0, 
 
 Not a sneeze, O, 
 
 Don t you hear your mother coming? 5 
 To be kissed, 0, 
 By the priest, 0, 
 Is the saintliest sort of mumming 
 
 "0, alack, O, 
 
 Such a smack, 0, 
 Makes the very echoes jealous; 
 But it proves, 0, 
 Holy loves, O, 
 Most particularly zealous. 
 
 " Hark that drumming! 
 Mother coming! 
 And that pother? 
 "Tis your father! 
 
 Awful sounds, 01 
 Blood and ounds, OP 
 
 "In full fresco swells the chorus, 
 From the motley group before us; 
 
 Sighing, swelling, 
 
 Barking, belling 
 Such a moaning, such intoning, 
 So much groaning, honing, droning, 
 Calling, falling, bawling, drawling, 
 Speaking, shrieking, squeezing, squeaking, 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "All subsiding to a quiver, 
 And a shiver, 
 
 Only to ascend, in thunder, 
 Rolling up and roaring under 
 Blood and ounds, 0! blood and ounda, 0) 
 Awful sounds, breaking bounds, 
 Setting all the woods a-shaking, 
 Setting all the bog a-quaking, 
 All the swnrnpy empire waking, 
 
 With the eternal blood and ounds, O 
 
 "Rending, raging, 
 
 Battle waging, 
 
 Yond all musical assuaging 
 O er all mortal sounds uproarious, 
 O er all mortal sense victorious, 
 Like the diapason glorious, 
 That through pipes and stops, 
 Shrieks, and bounds, and hops, 
 Foams, and frisks, and frolics, 
 Rolls and rages, rocks and rollicks, 
 Feeding every mortal stopper, ah! 
 Of the grand Italian opera!" 
 
 Thus it was that the rustic poet of the partisans, gave fort 1 
 extempore an embodiment of the music of the frogpondians. 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried Porgy, "hurrah, Geordie why, man, you 
 are native, to frog manor born, with all the pipes and bellows 
 of the swamp in your own wind-bags ; or to requite you in your 
 
 own coin : 
 
 "Worthy venison, 
 
 Geordie Dennison, 
 You will soon require a stopper, O, 
 Scaring off wLh greater clamor, 
 Every leap-frog from his amour, 
 Turning every mother s son of em 
 Making fun of em, 
 To a hopper off, from a hopper, 1" 
 
 And thus doggrelizing as they went, the two led their laugh 
 ing cohort down into the swamp. 
 
 The Caw-caw was in full concert. Bull and bell, squeak and 
 shriek, moan and groan. All the artistes were in exercise, en 
 gaged, no doubt, in some rehearsal, preparatory to some great 
 ceremonial the bridal, possibly, of the young princess of tlm 
 pondians. 
 
THE FROG CON , ERT AND CAMPAIGN. 518 
 
 Porgy and his corps, with their pointed spears of wood, 
 wooden forks, baskets, and knives, stole down into the lagunes. 
 What a picture for the stage ! What an action for the bur 
 lesque drama ! But the matter was a serious one enough foi 
 one of thf parties. Long will the frogs of that ilk remember 
 with wailing the raid of the cranes of that day. Could you 
 have seen those long, gaunt backwoodsmen, each with shaft, 
 prong, or trident, striding hither and thither in the bog and 
 lake, striding right and left, poised above their great-eyed ene 
 mies, and plunging forward to grapple the wounded and squal 
 ling victim before he should sheer off, or, as George Dennison 
 said afterward, describing the affair in sonorous heroics : 
 
 " Could you have seen that theatre of frogs, 
 As each in due delight and bog immersed, 
 Sprawled out, at length, in slime and sandy bed; 
 Great legs of green or brown outstretching wide; 
 Great arms thrown out as if embracing heaven ; 
 With eyes dilating-, big as Bullace grapes, 
 Upturned, and gloating as with rapturous rage ; 
 Great flattened jaws, that, ever and anon, 
 Distending with voluminous harmonies, 
 Sent forth their correspondences of sound, 
 In due obedience to the ehoragus, 
 Who still, a- proper intervals, pour d ">ut 
 The grand refrain sonorous, swelling still, 
 Till, at the last, the apex diapason 
 Was caught, was won, in glorious Blood and ouruisl" 
 
 It was a war of shallow waters. Habitual croakers are only 
 justified when they perish. They have nothing to complain of. 
 They always seem to anticipate their fate, and this seems to 
 prove it only just execution after judgment which, of course, 
 is legal and becoming. Our partisans had grown expert in this 
 sort of warfare. The Caw-caw swamp was a region in which 
 the frogs held populous communities and cities, and you know 
 the proverb "Thick grass is easier cut than thin." It was a 
 massacre ! Every spearman could count his score or two of 
 slain, and, really, a very pretty spectacle they made when, 
 emerging from the swamp, each carried his victims aloft, trans 
 fixed upon a sharp and slender rod, run through at the neck, 
 eyes wider than ever, and legs and arms spread about in all 
 
 22* 
 
514 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 direction 7. Nor was this all. No less than three young alliga 
 tors and three times as many terrapins were surprised and cap- 
 tnred, almost without a struggle, and borne off in triumph to 
 the camp ! The wailing in the Caw-caw that night was not 
 greatly lessened by the loss of so many sonorous voices, since 
 we may reasonably suppose that maternal suffering sent up 
 such extra clamors for the absence of precious young ones, as 
 more than atoned for the diminished forces of the community. 
 
 " On your lives, boys, not a word of what we have been do 
 ing," said Captain Porgy. They all swore to keep faith. 
 
 "There are thousands of clever people in the world," lie 
 added, " who require to be surprised into happiness. Some of 
 my guests, to-night, are probably of this description. I shall 
 teach them a new pleasure nay, t new moral in a new pleas 
 ure teach them how absurd it is to despise any of the gifts 
 of Providence." 
 
 And, following out this policy, it was with great secrecy thai 
 the spoils of the frog campaign were conveyed to his quarters, 
 and delivered over to the custody, of Tom, his cook. Tom, we 
 may add, like every sensible cook, made a sufficient mystery of 
 his art to keep prying curiosity away from the kitchen when 
 ever he was engaged in any of his culinary combinations. Lei 
 us leave these for other parties, and for proceedings of more 
 imposing consequence if less attractive performance. We shall 
 seek to be present when supper is on the table. 
 
PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OP THE DOG-DAYS. 6ii 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS. 
 
 WHILE our cranes were busied in the ai^ault upon the green 
 jackets of the pond, the American general had assembled about 
 him, in the woods in the rear of his encampment, all the leading 
 persons of his army. Sentinels were duly stationed around for 
 the keeping off of intruders. The assembly was a somewhat 
 primitive one in the fashion of its grouping, if not its materials 
 The greensward offered the only seats. The green boughs of 
 oak and pine furnished the only roofing. A few logs afforded 
 places for persons of distinction ; but the greater number were 
 fain to make themselves level with the green bosom of their 
 mother earth at this season covered with a plentiful clothing 
 of verdure ; crab-grass and crowfoot, to say nothing of dock, 
 fern, and a pretty variety of wild flowers. General Greene re 
 ceived the several persons as they presented themselves. He 
 was a person of imposing size and figure too portly for the 
 ethereal, but of goodly make for a major-general of provincials 
 of fine, commanding form of mild, intelligent countenance, 
 which a slight obliquity in one of his eyes did not impair : of 
 simple manners, easy and not ungraceful carriage. Greene was 
 a man of good military abilities; we are not prepared to call 
 them extraordinary ; of cool, sedate mind, and ready ^esource ; 
 not very daring ; not brilliant of conception ; too Fabian of 
 policy for the proper use of cavalry which implies the nece* 
 eity of daring ; and perhaps a little wanting in that promptness 
 which secures and fixes victory at the moment of crisis, when 
 she trembles from. side to side, uncertain where to settle. In 
 the sort of warfare which he was called upon to conduct, during 
 the war of the Revolution, in the South, he was particularly 
 useful, perhaps, because of his caution in not perilling the 
 
5 If) THE FORAYKR3. 
 
 cause upon any single action, where defeat might be certain 
 ruin, and in tempering a very sanguine and impetuous people 
 He was cautious, like Washington ; but in greater degree, 
 than Washington ; and did not aim at any brilliant performan 
 ces. In a service so inexperienced as that of the American, 
 during the Revolution, and with such incoherent elements to 
 manage, caution, perhaps, was an element of the greatest mili 
 tary virtue in a general. It might lose many opportunities, and 
 very possibly did, but it incurred no extraordinary perils, such 
 as might not be repaired without great embarrassment. 
 
 The bluff, manly person and well-bronzed face of William 
 Washington, a man even more massy of build than Greene, was 
 the first to present itself. Washington was famous at a charge. 
 He affected no military refinements or science. There is our 
 enemy. He is in the way. No more was necessary. Wash 
 ington understood the rest, and rushed at once to his perform 
 ance. And Marion followed, slight of form, brown of aspect, 
 with his keen black eyes, and vulture-like hook of nose, Roman 
 all over ; quiet of manner, retiring of habit ; undistinguished in 
 carriage ; and, next to Pickens, one of the most unpresurning 
 of persons, almost shy and timid of approach in society Too 
 modest, in fact, for the assertion of his own rights. 
 
 Harry Lee, of the legion, next presented himself, a person of 
 much more pretension and of genuine dragoon audacity ; a keen 
 spirited soldier ; who kept his legion in first-rate order, at the 
 expense of everybody else ; something of a martinet ; something 
 of a carpet knight ; but full of talent, which only needed a more 
 wholesome training, to develop into first-rate excellence. He 
 took the general s hand, smiled complacently around upon the 
 group ; sauntered about for a while ; his dragoon sword jostling 
 the ground as he walked, as was the way with Tarleton s, from 
 its great length. He seemed quite too mercurial to seek a seat. 
 He kept the turf until he suddenly encountered the sardonic- 
 smile of Sumter ; when he let himself down quietly enough upon 
 the roots of an oak, and watched the approach of the successive 
 parties to the conference. 
 
 Sumter s fine features were remarkably composed ; composed, 
 perhaps, with some effort for Sumter was in no good humoi 
 with Greene or Lee at this period. He thought himself wronged 
 
PLAN FOI{ THi; CAMPAIGN UF TIIK HOC-DAYS. 517 
 
 by both. The latter had contrived to give offence to both him 
 self and Marion, by his propensity to overbear and manage ; and 
 Greene had somewhat become the instrument, blind or other 
 wise, of this dashing self-complacency of the legionary colonel. 
 
 But Greene had erred, besides, of his own head, and both of 
 the partisan generals, Sumter and Marion, were by this time 
 made aware that, while dealing with them, quietly, in the hand 
 somest terms of compliment, he had been writing letters to 
 other persons which spoke slightingly of themselves, their 
 followers, and performances. Perhaps, but for Rutledge, both 
 of them would long before have abandoned the service. Marion 
 did seek an occasion to resign, from offences then received ; and 
 Sumter finally disbanded his brigade, in indignation, not long 
 after this very council. 
 
 But Rutledge himself appears, having reached the camp an 
 hour before. He is followed by Colonel Williams, the adjutant 
 general of the army, a Marylander of good abilities; cool, cir 
 cumspect, vigilant, and of considerable military talents. Colonel 
 Carriugton ame with him a high-toned officer, in whose 
 judgment Greene entertained considerable confidence. 
 
 These were all present at the conference, which was not a 
 council of war, by the way, but a sort of military conference for 
 the interchange of opinions. Greene welcomed them all with 
 proper breeding, offered them pleasantly a choice of seats, and, 
 in a few brief remarks, congratulated them on the prospect of 
 affairs. He then motioned Rutledge, with whom he had already 
 enjoyed a private conversation. To Rutledge he was greatly 
 disposed to defer, finding him, as he himself confesses, one of 
 the most remarkable persons he had ever met. 
 
 And he was such ! The genius of John Rutledge was emi 
 nently executive. He possessed that grand sweep of vision, in 
 civil affairs, which, in the military, is perhaps somewhat dis 
 paraged by the French descriptive phrase the coup d ceil. 
 With a grasp of the eye he not only took in the whole field, in 
 generals, but he grouped the details of it, in proper relationship, 
 and at the same glance, with equal confidence and facility. His 
 mind was wide, expansive, penetrating and honest. All its 
 instincts, if we may so speak, were truthful. The true was its 
 watu *al aim ; its impulsive seeking. He was at once frank and 
 
518 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 earnest; hence, he was a popular orator of great command, 
 ready at the emergency, and always compelling respect, and 
 winning confidence. He was bold, ardent, just. He conceived 
 readily the grandeur of the trust reposed in him, and he had no 
 such small passions as could divert, or dissuade, from its execu 
 tion. He merged and this is the grand secret of patriotism 
 always he merged his individual pride and pleasure his 
 mind and his affections, equally, in the cause which he had un 
 dertaken. We hardly express our full meaning in these words. 
 He was not, briefly, so much John Rutledge, as the man of the 
 times and country. In these he lived, and was properly him 
 self. He was at once an individual and a representative man! 
 and such are the greatest ! 
 
 He spoke and with that ease, sweetness, strength, and ear 
 nestness, which command attention and secure confidence. 
 His words entered men s ideas, and gave them the necessary 
 utterance. Not a man present but fancied, as he spoke, that he 
 himself had furnished the motif for every syllable that was 
 uttered. 
 
 " I congratulate you, general, and you gentlemen, all, at this 
 present meeting, and under such favorable auspices. Our af 
 fairs, in one little month, have wonderfully brightened. The 
 prospect is now good, that we shall compel our enemy very 
 soon to lift his foot entirely from the breast of our little state. 
 You have already freed her, in great part, from his iron foot 
 steps. He has been driven from all his strongholds in the in 
 terior. His fortresses, everywhere, have been dismantled. Cam- 
 den is now ours ; Ninety-Six, Augusta, Granby, Forts Galpliin, 
 Grierson, Motte; and it needs but a thousand bayonets to expel 
 him from the post of Orangeburg, which lies before us now ! 
 And this conquest, under our present auspices, can not long be 
 wanting. You have circumscribed his bounds, and it is only 
 between the Santee and the Edisto, that he makes a show of 
 pDssession ; and it is only in the garrison of Charleston that he 
 makes any show of security. Here, if he dares to linger until 
 we can recruit, we have him to be destroyed at pleasure, like an 
 elephant in a morass. These, gentlemen, have been the fruits of 
 our toils since the opening of the present campaign. They are 
 sufficiently encouraging to justify the most sanguine hopes, that 
 
PLAN FOB THE CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS. 519 
 
 we shall finally expel the invader from his securities from all 
 our territory, even before the close of the present season. 
 
 " But you need respite ! Our summer is even more terribly 
 hostile to man than the winters of Siberia ! Your toils have 
 been already too much prolonged, particularly in the case of 
 those who have so nobly come to our succor, from the sister 
 states of Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, and Delaware. 
 We, who know oi.r climate, must not suffer your patriotism to 
 peril your lives, unnecessarily. You must be respited ! You 
 must seek the salubrious hills of the Santee, where I have 
 already made such provisions for your comfort, as was possible 
 to our resources. There, your general can reorganize his in 
 fantry, and establish it on a better footing for performance. 
 There, while you rest, you will probably receive such supplies 
 from Congress, of arms and ammunition, as will enable you to 
 face, and grapple with the best-appointed veterans of Europe. 
 I am promised these supplies, and doubt not that we shall sea 
 sonably receive them. 
 
 " Meanwhile, our cavalry and mounted riflemen, in which lies 
 our greatest strength, need not be idle. I am about to propose 
 to them a service, in which, I am sure, their patriotism will not 
 fail, and from which I hope that we shall derive the happiest 
 advantages to the country. You have seen with what efficacy 
 we wrought, when our troops were thrown between the out 
 posts of the enemy, and his base of operations. We have seen 
 that the movement has compelled him to contract his circle of 
 control, within the narrowest limits. I am for pursuing the 
 same process, for compelling him to quit all his interior posts 
 Orangeburg, Eutaw, Wantoot, Watboo, Biggin, Monk s Corner, 
 and Dorchester by once more passing between him and hifi 
 Charleston garrison. With the overwhelming force, in cavalry, 
 which we command, we can cut him off from all supplies from 
 all communication and alarm him lest he himself be cut off in 
 the interior. To do this, all that needs, is to hurl our mounted 
 men across the country, from Orangeburg to the seaboard, 
 covering the space, patrolling it everywhere, cutting his scattered 
 bands to pieces, and thundering at the very gates of Charleston. 
 Tf this proceeding does not make the British lion turn tail 
 on the Edisto for ever, he is of much tougher material than 
 
520 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 we Lave ever found him yet! Do not understand me as dis 
 posed to disparage his courage or his firmness, his valor or his 
 resources ; but only to say that our process is one to shake even 
 a greater firmness and courage, than he has ever yet shown, 
 brave, and stubborn, and audacious as he is ! What think you, 
 gentlemen, of the scheme of operations. It is understood, gen 
 tlemen, that the call is for volunteers it is not an absolute 
 command for service ! It appeals to a portion only of the army, 
 and presupposes repose for the rest. To command this would 
 be a hardship. To appeal to the mounted 111311, by whom alone 
 the duty can be done, is all that remains to me, as governor of 
 the state. I wait for your reply." 
 Suinter instantly answered : 
 
 "The scheme is a good one, governor admirable, in fact 
 and can hardly fail to produce the results expected. I pre 
 sume you can hardly doubt tha^ I am ready at any moment. 
 I think I may safely answer for my command." 
 "What says General Marion?" 
 Marion smiled as he answered : 
 
 "I am so constantly in the caddie, governor, that I am afraid 
 I should find summer quarters tedious. You will please take 
 for granted that my people are prepared for duty." 
 " Colonel Lee ? Colonel Washington ?" 
 Lee answered for the legion; and Washington made his 
 great sabre answer for him, drawing it half out, and thrusting 
 it back with a clang that sounded effectively his only half- 
 spoken sentence of approbation. He war a man of few words, 
 and his bright, upward look, declared his readiness for a share 
 in the enterprise. 
 * It was then scanned in all its details. 
 
 "And now," said Rutledge, "if you will suffer me, General 
 Greene, I will nominate General Sumter for the command of 
 the whole enterprise." 
 
 Greene bowed his head affirmatively, and Sumter quickly said : 
 " I am greatly honored, sir, in your own and the choice of 
 the governor. I accept the appointment with pride, and trust 
 that my abilities will prove worthy of your confidence ; will 
 equal, with proper performance, my own desires, and realise all 
 the results which you anticipate from the expedition." 
 
PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS. 521 
 
 Rutledge continued : 
 
 " General Marion gives me to understand, General Sumter 
 that he will gladly serve under your banner : I know that lie 
 will admirably and earnestly second all your enterprises ; I 
 take for granted that you will be supported with equal ardor 
 by Colonels Washington and Lee, Colonels Lacy and Singleton, 
 the Hamptons, Taylor, Maham and Harden ; all, I know, will 
 rejoice to engage in an expedition, the duties of which are so 
 honorable, and so arduous, and which promise such glorious 
 results to the country. 
 
 " Your command, General Sumter, as General Greene advises 
 me, will consist of all the state troops, the legion of Colonel 
 Lee, and a detachment of artillery with a single field-piece ; in 
 the whole about one thousand men. To such a force of mounted 
 men, the foe can oppose nothing. With this particular arm, 
 moving with your accustomed celerity, you may surprise all 
 his outposts below, capture all his detachments, or compel their 
 rapid flight to the city. These are the objects of the expedi 
 tion ; the farther results of which must be to compel the army 
 of Rawdon to fall back for its own safety, upon the seaboard, 
 where we hope to confine him for the future, and finally con 
 quer and expel him thence. 
 
 " With your permission, General Greene, I will reserve Major 
 Sinclair, whom I design to advance to a colonelcy in the state 
 line, for a separate duty, with the single company of Captain 
 St. Julien. He will co-operate, as occasion serves, with the 
 command of General Sumter, being also designed for service 
 below. The command of General Pickens, will need the same 
 temporary respite with the infantry. His horses are exhausted 
 in the pursuit of Cruger and the tories, as he himself writes : 
 So exhausted that they could neither get up with the enemy, 
 nor, if they could succeed in doing so, get away from him. 
 It is fortunate that ours are in better condition for the great 
 foray which we now contemplate a foray, gentlemen, which, 
 I trust, will make itself known to future times, as the Raid of 
 the Dog-days, constituting, as it will, a novelty in our cam 
 paign, an episode of peculiar character and interest, by reason 
 equally of its own glorious results, and of the season in which 
 it is undertake i a season, which, hitherto, lias usually giver 
 
^> THE FORAYERS. 
 
 entire repose to our armies; the ardency of oiu- sun usually 
 proving quite sufficient to subdue the ardency of our patriotism. 
 That you are thus prepared to deny vourselves the usual re 
 spite, adds the crowning laurels to your chivalry. May the 
 God of battles accord you the health, the strength, the energy, 
 which are essential to render your patriotism famous for all 
 future times." 
 
 And, with the grace of the accomplished orator, when his 
 task is done, Rutledge bowed to his hearers, then especially to 
 Greene, and receding a pace, remained standing while the 
 latter came forward. 
 
 Greene, without being an eloquent or striking speaker, was 
 an impressive one. He had no arts ; his manner was one of 
 great simplicity, but of great directness. Speaking briefly, and 
 directly to the point, he always commanded attention. 
 
 " You have heard, gentlemen," he said, " what Governor 
 Rutledge has so well delivered. He has delivered our mutual 
 wishes and opinions already agreed upon between us, and has 
 spoken, I am glad to think, your sentiments no less than ours. 
 In the selection of General Sumter for the command of this 
 noble enterprise, in which you are to engage, his choice is mine. 
 In the indication of your objects, we are both agreed as to their 
 results ; and in your hands I am sure we shall not be disap 
 pointed of our hopes. It remains to me to indicate to you what 
 I conceive to be the best routes to pursue in this expedition. 
 To a certain extent, several bodies of troops must, for awhile, 
 act independently. They will consider themselves detached 
 for the purpose, subject only to the general plan of operation, 
 which requires their early return, as soon as each special separate 
 object is attained, to the headquarters of General Sumter. 
 These detachments will sweep down by every road or avenue 
 which may conduct to Charleston. General Sumter, himself, 
 with such a force as he shall please to reserve to himself, will 
 pursue the Congaree road on the south side of that river, and 
 the east side of Cooper. Colonel Lee with the legion, will 
 attempt the post at Dorchester. But, as we may reasonably 
 calculate on a stout resistance from the garrison ac that place, 
 Colonel Henry Hampton, will co-operate with him in this 
 object, and, after securing the bridge at Dorchester, with a de 
 
PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS. 523 
 
 tacliment, will unite the rest of his command with that of 
 Colonel Lee. Colonel Wade Hampton will also co-operate 
 with these hodies, with a detachment of Sumtcr s cavalry. To 
 one of these parties, must be assigned the task of securing 
 holding the bridge over the Four-Holes creek, in order that 
 the several detachments, operating below, may be advised of 
 the movements of Rawdon s force at Orangeburg. A detach 
 ment of Marion s men, under Colonel Maham, passing the head 
 of Cooper river and Watboo creek, will penetrate below to 
 the eastward of Biggin s church, and destroy the bridge of 
 Watboo. This will help to obstruct the retreat of the garrison 
 at Biggin and Watboo. A detachment passing to the east of 
 Dorchester, will take the Wassamasaw road to Goose-creek 
 bridge; and cut off all communication between Dorchester and 
 Monck s Corner, and between the latter place and Charleston 
 by the route west of Cooper river. You thus, General Sumter, 
 cover all the possible routes for the escape of the enemy below. 
 You cut oft all his communications. You isolate him at Orange- 
 burg, and destroy every post of rest or supply between him 
 and the sea. His necessities will then be to cut his way, 
 through us, to Charleston,; and, I trust, that, with the rest 
 afforded us now, the main army will soon be in a condition to 
 render this a fruitless attempt! We may even hope, gentle 
 men, to add to the laurels of the south a Rawdonade of equal 
 importance with the Burgoynade of Saratoga. 
 
 " The farther details, General Sumter, I yield with confidence 
 to your judgment and discretion. 
 
 " Gentlemen, we shall march with the dawn for the Congaree. 
 General Pickens, in a letter just received, advises me that Cru- 
 ger will effect his junction with Rawdon sometime to-night. 
 This junction will place him in command of three thousand 
 troops. We must not wait for bis lordship when he shall be 
 thus strengthened. Your mounted men will be required to es 
 cort the army to a point of safety, where we may dispense 
 with your further assistance. Colonel Williams will see that 
 due instructions will be issued in general orders before night. 
 For the present our conference is ended. Our official tasks are 
 over. Governor Rutledge, General Sumter, General Marion 
 gentlemen all, may I have the pleasure of your company at 
 
524 THE FORAYEttS. 
 
 nupper. 1 k jow not what the commissariat and cook can do 
 for us there is nothing promising, I fear, in our larder ; but 1 
 suspect we can offer you as wholesome a variety as can be found 
 in camp, and I certainly tender you as warm a welcome." 
 
 The invitation was received in silence. There was apparently 
 some embarrassment among the group. Greene himself began 
 to look with embarrassment around him not knowing what the 
 silence meant when Rutledge with a merry laugh, exclaimed : 
 
 " I am afraid, general, you are quite too late with these gen 
 tlemen as with myself. I fancy they are all engaged else 
 where." 
 
 Greene looked about him with the air of a man who thought 
 it exceedingly strange that anybody in the army should be able. 
 in the present condition of the commissariat, to give a dinner, 
 but he did not say so. He knew that it occasioned him no 
 small effort to supply the adequate provision ; and who, be 
 sides, so capable 1 As if fully comprehending his thoughts, 
 Rutledge continued : 
 
 " When you fancy, general, that nobody in camp is likely to 
 offer so wholesome a variety of edibles for dinner as yourself, 1 
 fancy that there is hardly a gentlenjan present, who does not 
 please himself with the idea that you are mistaken. Come, sir, 
 do not look so distressed. You are yet to learn what resources 
 are possessed by these wild riders of our friend Marion. I do 
 not know the fact, but I will venture a goodly dozen of old 
 Madeira, whenever we shall be able to get at the Charleston 
 cellars, that we are all invited to the same mess. I confess 
 myself committed too, and with my own grateful will, and grat 
 ified consent, to the supper of Captain Porgy of Marion s." 
 
 " And I." 
 
 And I." 
 
 "And I," from all present, the general himself and Colonel 
 Lee excepted. 
 
 " Captain Porgy !" said Greene, " Captain Porgy ! Where 
 have I heard of Captain Porgy." 
 
 " From me, sir, I suspect," said Lee rather sullenly. " I have 
 dined and supped with Captain Porgy. He is a rare compan 
 ion a strange fellow, with a clever French faculty, of making 
 a dish out of a June bug, and a dinner out of out of-" 
 
PLAN FOR THE, CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS. 525 
 
 "A mere matter of moonshine!" added Rutledge. "And a 
 good dish and dinner lie makes of it too, let me tell you. He 
 will contrive to sup bountifully upon elements, upon which 
 simpler folks would starve. If Colonel Lee would finish now, 
 he will tell you that he never supped better in his life than 
 when he supped with Captain Porgy." 
 
 " Never, sir ; I admit it. I did not feed with the less pleas 
 ure that I never once guessed what were the ingredients of the 
 dish." 
 
 " Really, gentlemen," said Greene, " I had no idea that I had 
 such a competitor. And what am I to do ? I have ordered 
 supper foi twenty, and find myself without a guest." 
 
 And the general really appeared much mortified. 
 
 " Were it consistent with proper discipline and military prac 
 tice, general," quoth Rutledge, " I should counsel you to do as 
 the rich man had to do in scripture, who made a great feast, 
 and, like yourself, was disappointed in his fine company so 
 sent out with a dragnet and took in the lame, halt, blind, and 
 5very way destitute. But this will hardly answer in our day 
 and country. But, if you will suffer me, I will reconcile all dif 
 ficulties. If you will permit me to order your cook and butler 
 to send all your supplies to the quarters of the swamp-fox, with 
 my respect to the worthy Captain Porgy, apprizing him that 
 you will honor his table to-night, all will be right. I will take 
 leave to include Colonel Lee in the invitation." 
 
 " But this would be a great liberty, governor," said Greene. 
 
 " Not a whit, sir. Captain Porgy will feel himself honorec|, 
 I assure you ; nay, will be greatly pleased that we have dealt 
 with him so frankly. He is a gentleman, sir, of an old house 
 and feather, and knows how to requite a courtesy whatever its 
 aspect." 
 
 "But we shall take him by surprise so v iany." 
 
 " You forget that nearly all of us are already secured as his 
 guests. Beside, you will send over your own sullies." 
 
 Marion sotto voce " If Porgy will suffer them to he brought 
 on table." 
 
 And he whispered to Rutledge: 
 
 "Let the meats b3 sent over before the general s cook has 
 touched then.." 
 
526 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 "Ely-lit! I comprehend," said Rutledge, in a whisper also 
 Then aloud 
 
 " Trust to me, general; I know my man I shall be careful 
 not to commit you. I confess my p.nxiety that you should 
 know Captain Porgy, and see what are the resources of our Low- 
 Country partisans. He will be honored, I repeat, by our frank 
 proceedings ; and," in a whisper " the effect will be good up >r, 
 our people. They love to see a frank simplicity and open con 
 fidence in great men." 
 
 Greene smiled at the compliment, his blue eyes looking archly 
 into those of Hutledge : 
 
 " Ah ! governor, you are more of a tactician than any mili 
 tary man I know." 
 
 " In the commissariat, perhaps," responded the other. " Well, 
 you give me permission." 
 
 " If you say so." 
 
 "I do ! and will give all the necessary orders, despatch a 
 a note to our host, and send over the provisions. But the 
 latter must be done at once, and before your cook has handled 
 them." 
 
 " Why so why not let them be dressed ?" said Greene. 
 
 " For the best of reasons. If dressed, they would be held in 
 no condition for Captain Porgy s table. Do not be mortified, gen 
 eral, to be told, that your cuisinier would never receive his diplo 
 ma from the hands of Captain Porgy. lie is a martinet in the 
 kitchen. He refines upon soups, is sublime in sauces, and alto 
 gether scorns and despises the cruel maceration of meat in hot 
 waters, which is the vulgar usage of- our cooks in camp. Un 
 derstand, again, that Captain Porgy is no vulgai person ; but a 
 rare fellow for company, a man of soul and humor, and at his 
 table you will be sure to find an appetite though you had al 
 ready fed to surfeit. As Colonel Lee says, you must be wise 
 enough to take your supper as you take your religion with a 
 perfect faith, vhich is never guilty of the impertinence of Peter, 
 of questioning the cleanness of the meats which Providence has 
 furnished." 
 
 "But everything s wholesome!" said Greene, with a sim 
 plicity which argued his Rhode Island ignorance of such au 
 thorities as Ude, and Glass, and Savarin. 
 
PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OF THK DOG-DAYS. 
 
 "Wholesome!" exclaimed Lee "By Jupiter, General 
 Greene, I do not know that I have tasted wholesome food 
 since my last supper with Captain Porgy. I know not why 
 he has not invited me, since I am very sure no man could have 
 done more justice to his fare." 
 
 Lee was evidently piqued. 
 
 " An omission easily accounted for, Colonel Lee," answered 
 Rutledge promptly, " since you had not come in from befow, 
 when the invitations were sent out; no one could say that you 
 would be in to-night. I take upon myself to say that no one 
 will be morn welcome to his table than yourself." 
 
 " Well, if the taste to do justice to his table is sufficient com 
 mendation, I may safely assert that you are right," said Lee, 
 his complacency always making belief easy, in respect to his 
 own welcome. Marion looked grave, but said nothing. He 
 knew that Porgy would not, of himself, invite Lee. He had 
 too seriously displeased the partisans ; but Marion was not dis 
 pleased that Lee should invite himself, which, in his, as in the 
 case of Greene, was substantially the fruit of Eutledge s diplom 
 acy. The latter, as usual, had his own way. The despat"\i 
 was sent to Porgy, and Greene s cook was seasonably arrested 
 in the very act of doing murder upon his edibles. The party 
 adjourned to meet at the sylvan camp of the swamp -fox 
 
62S THE FORAYEBS. 
 
 OHAPTER XLV. 
 
 DOINGS IN THR APOLLO CHAMBER. 
 
 OiJ ft ^artisan division of the army, with tlieir liorsos, occupied 
 no small extent of territory. Our Captain PorgT, himself, with 
 his little personal equipage, demanded considerable space. He 
 was the person always to secure that " ample room and ver<e 
 enough," which, as he himself said, were essential to iiis indi 
 vidual girth. "My breadth of belt," he was wont to say, "in; 
 plies a fair field ; and, having that, I ask no favors." Besides 
 being of social habits, his mess was always a large one. Among 
 his immediate associates, retainers rather, he kept not only his 
 cook, but his poet ; the one almost as necessary as the other. 
 Then, he never was without a guest, and whenever his commis 
 sariat was particularly well supplied, he was sure to have a full 
 table. Such an idea as a good table, without an adequate num 
 ber of guests to enjoy it, seemed to him a thing vile, unreason 
 able, inhuman, and utterly unchristian. We have seen that, 
 particularly fortunate in his foray among the green-jacketed 
 denizens of the Caw-caw, he had made arrangements for a 
 larger circle than usual. His own tastes and purposes requiring 
 it, Captain Porgy usually chose his own ground whenever tents 
 were to be pitched. He had a great eye to proper localities. 
 
 " The open woods, on the south and west," was his rule. 
 " Let the swamp and thicket cover my back on the east. That 
 east wind has been of evil tendency from the earliest periods of 
 time. The Bible speaks of it. A bad-tempered person, soured 
 and surly, growling always, and insufferable from bile and con 
 ceit, is said to fill his bowels with the east wind. It has a bad 
 effect on the best bowels. Give me just opening enough on the 
 east for the purposes of draught, but let your tent be open to the 
 full pressure of the winds from south and west. You need, in 
 
DOINGS IN THE APOLLO CHAMBER. 629 
 
 our climate, an eastern opening at the dinner-hour, dining at 
 three, or thereabout; but beware of it after the sun has set. 
 Don t sleep with the east wind blowing upon you. If you do, 
 face it let your feet receive it first. Every wind that blows 
 has a specific quality. The east, northeast, and southeast, are 
 all more or less pernicious, muddy, insidious, hateful Our natu 
 ral winds in midsummer are from the south and west. The 
 south persuades you to languor, pleasantly relaxes, discourages 
 the exertion which would be too exhaustive for the season. The 
 west is the agitator, the thunder-storm wind, that purges and 
 purifies the northwest is the cleaning wind, that sweeps up the 
 sky, and brushes off all its cobwebs. Each wind having thus a 
 specific mission, it is wonderful that men who build know so 
 little of the means of ventilation. Now, you sec, I choose my 
 ground with an open pine-forest in front, that is south and west 
 and northwest. I take care that the land slopes down from me 
 in all these directions. If there be hill, swamp, or dense thick 
 et, I put them, with the devil, behind me. I have here chosen 
 the very pleasantest spot in the whole encampment. There is 
 not one of these continental officers who knows anything of the 
 subject. Yet, to the health of an army, a difference of fifty 
 yards in the location of a camp, is very frequently all the dif 
 ference between life and death !" 
 
 And, in that broad, terrace-like spread of wood and thicket, 
 he had chosen the most agreeable region. The pine-woods 
 opened at his feet, and spread away almost interminably, giv 
 ing the necessary degree of shade, yet leaving free passage 
 for the wind. 
 
 " Free circulation, Geordie Dennison," said he, as with hands 
 outspread he seemed to welcome the gentle play of the breezes 
 reeking up from the southwest "that is the secret of health 
 free circulation for the winds, the waters, and the blood. It 
 is stagnation that is death. This is the reason why a pine- 
 forest is more healthy than any other. It is the only forest that 
 tufiers free play to the winds. Hence you hear the music in 
 a, pine-forest which you hear in no other. The breezes pour 
 through, and swell up, until all the tree-tops become so many 
 organ-pipes. The vulgar notion is that there is some virtue in 
 the od ir of the pines to neutralize malaria. But this is all non 
 
 ii 
 
530 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 sense. Pine-woods that have a dense undergrowth, a e iiot more 
 healthy than any other. It is the shape of the tree, a tall col 
 umn, without lateral branches, naked a hundred feet high, and 
 arching above, umbrella fashion, into a grand ceiling, which 
 shuts out the intense heat of the sun, and siiffers free exercise 
 to the breeze. Here it plays with delight and impunity. In 
 the dense thickets it trickles only, and finally stagnates ; and 
 hence the fevers of uncleared lands. Bays, swamps, ponds, are 
 unhealthy, not because of the water which they contain, but be 
 cause of the dense thickets which they nurture. The hottest 
 place in the world in midsummer, is a deep forest or thicket, 
 with a close undergrowth. Fools talk of decaying vegetation 
 as the secret of disease ; yet when our fevers are raging most, 
 vegetation has not begun to decay. Gardens, fields, forests, are 
 never more fresh and beautiful, never more vigorous and ver 
 dant, than when death seems lurking under every flower, like 
 some venomous reptile watching for and creeping to the ear of 
 the unconscious sleeper. But, Geordie Dennison, boy, once 
 suppose that the air is stagnant in any locality, and you need 
 not suppose the necessity for its impregnation by any deleteri 
 ous agent. A stagnant atmosphere is, per se, malaria. And 
 that fact that we can assign a distinct locality .for the disease 
 that we can say with confidence, to sleep here is death, while 
 you may sleep with safety within half a mile establishes the 
 fact conclusively that the atmosphere is localized no matter 
 by what cause though even that is a matter which I have 
 .considered also and once let the atmosphere be fixed, and it 
 is only in degree that it differs from that of an old sink or well. 
 It is putrid, and To inhale it is a danger. You can not impreg 
 nate with miasina any region, where the winds are allowed to 
 penetrate freely from three points of the compass, and where 
 they do penetrate. When we are very sickly, you will always 
 find a pressure of winds, daily from a single quarter, for a long- 
 continued period of time. The atmosphere loses its equilib 
 rium, as it were; the* winds lack their balance; and running 
 one course only, they run into a cul de sac, as water that can not 
 escape, rises to a level with its source, becomes a pond, and stag 
 nates. A thunder-storm purifies, not from its electricity, as some 
 contend, but because it is a storm. All storms purify because 
 
DOINGS IN THE APOLLO CHAMBER. 531. 
 
 they agitate. They disperse the local atmosphere overa thou 
 sand miles of space, and restore its equilibrium." 
 
 " But, Captain Porgy, were it not better that you should bo 
 thinking of your supper and company, instead of philosophizing 
 here about the atmosphere?" 
 
 " It is because I am thinking of my company and supper, 
 Master Geordie, that I do philosophize about the atmosphere. 
 A wholesome atmosphere is half of a good supper. We can 
 eschew the water. We need not drink that, if we can find any 
 other liquor ; but make what wry faces we will, the atmosphere 
 we must drink, even though we know it to be impregnated with 
 poison. Better drink the vilest ditcli-water a thousand times. 
 That may disorder the stomach, but the other must vitiate the 
 lungs and so directly disease the blood and the heart. I am 
 trying to teach you, sir, that in giving a good supper or dinner 
 to your friends, you are to serve it up in properly-ventilated 
 apartments." 
 
 " Well, we have it airy enough here." 
 
 " True ; but had it been left to anybody else, ten to one you 
 would have had our tents pitched in a villanous thicket where 
 we never could have got a breath of air. Look, now, at the 
 Legion encamped on the left ; they are in a bottom, the breeze 
 passing clean over their heads. Their camp-master had no 
 idea of what was the duty to be done, beyond the simply get 
 ting room enough for the horses and wagons of some three hun 
 dred men. Sir, the partisan cavalry have never been so 
 healthy as when I have been permitted to select the ground for 
 their bivouac." 
 "That s true!" 
 
 " To be sure it s true ; and you see the fruits of it in the 
 pleasant sleeps that we enjoy, and the hardy elasticity with 
 which we travel. There never was any people so exposed as 
 ours have been, nigh.t and day, in all weathers, and the most 
 wearisome marches, that have ever enjoyed such admirable 
 health. And they owe it to me, sir to me, Geordie Dennison 
 yet, d n em, they are not half so grateful for this blessing 
 as for my soups and suppers. They would readily compound 
 to arink any quantity of malaria, if they could swallow a pint 
 of my rum-punch after it." 
 
532 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 
 
 " A.h, they regard the rum-pnnch as the antidote, ind there 
 is nothing unreasonable, therefore, in their practice. But, cap 
 tain, the hour latens." 
 
 " Latens ! By what right do you use that word ?" 
 
 " It s a good word, captain." 
 
 " So it is ; but I never heard it used before." 
 
 " Very likely ; but would you permit that argument to be 
 used against any new dish that Tom should put on the fable 
 to-night !" 
 
 " No, sir ; no, Geordie, you are right. You could not have 
 answered me better if you had argued a thousand years. And 
 I will remember the word ; so, as the hour latens, Geordie, get 
 up and help me with these tables. I must summon Frampton 
 and Millhouse. We shall need their knives and hatchets. I 
 have invited thirty-one guests, Geordie, not counting you and 
 Lance ; we three will make the number thirty-four. There s no 
 such table to be spread in camp to-night. Think of it ; a sim 
 pie captain of militia giving a supper to thirty guests, and upon 
 such short commons as are allowed us. Half of the poor devils 
 in camp think it monstrous impudent of me to give a supper at 
 all and to thirty persons " 
 
 " They can t guess how it s to be done." 
 
 " No ! indeed ! the blockheads ! But their vexation increases 
 when they find my guests all outranking myself. The envious 
 rascals! Beware of envy, Geordie it is the dirtiest, sneak- 
 ingest, meanest little passion in the world, the younger brother 
 of vanity, furnishing all the venom to its sleek-skinned and 
 painted senior." 
 
 " And you are to have the governor, captain V 
 
 "Ay, he accepts. John Rutledge is a great fellow, without 
 affectation, Geordie no pretender one of the few men who 
 really do think. The greater number, even when they greatly 
 rank, only repeat each other they do not think Thought, 
 George Dennison, is really confined to a very few Men, as a 
 race, are not thinking animals. They are gregarious and imi 
 tative. They go in droves and follow a leader, whom they con 
 trive after a while to mimic after a monkey fashion. Thought 
 is always an individual. But where is- that boy Frampton 
 Sound your whistle, George." 
 
DOINGS IN THE APOLLO CHAMBER. 533 
 
 The whistle was sounded. 
 
 "Now help me with these poles. There are forty cut. We 
 must have crotch-sticks two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve it 
 will require twenty-four ; we must make our tahles solid." 
 
 Lance Frampton now appeared, followed by half a dozen 
 stout young .roopers, bearing slim green poles upon their shoul 
 ders, forked sticks, and all the appliances necessary to the con 
 struction of the rustic tables and seats of the company. Long 
 practice had made all of them familiar with the rude sort of 
 manufacture which was required. The crotch-sticks were soon 
 driven upright into the ground, in frequent parallels ; cross 
 pieces were laid in the crotchets of these, and the poles were 
 stretched along, forming a crossed table with four ends, for so 
 many dignitaries, and capable to accommodate forty guests 
 with ease. Of a similar, but stouter fashion, were; the seats for 
 the guests. It was surprising how soon the area was filled how 
 soon the mechanical preparations for the feast were fashioned. 
 The amphitheatre beneath the pines was ample. Porgy, as he 
 boasted, had the proper eye for a locality. When reared and 
 steadied, stanchioned and strengthened, the tables were covered 
 with great oak-leaves, green, looking very clean, nice, and fresh 
 a verdant tablecloth. 
 
 " Now, see that you have torches, Lance ; for, though we 
 have a glorious moon, we need torches for the dark corners. 
 Many of the guests will bring their negroes to wait. But we 
 shall need some waiters besides. Engage some of these young 
 chaps. They shall sweep the platters clean. Forget nothing, 
 boy. We are to have big wigs to supper, remember. Geordie, 
 come with me to our wagon. I think we shall astonish these 
 epauleted gentry to-night." 
 
 And the two turned off to another part of the wood where 
 stood the little wagon already described a sort of covered 
 box a thing which one man might have rolled, but to which 
 a couple of stout hackneys were harnessed, when taken. 
 
 " Little," said Porgy, as he unlocked the cover of the vehicle, 
 "little did stuttering Pete dream what he lost and we gained, 
 when we cut on the four wagons of Stewart. His eyes opened 
 only upon the big wagons. He never gave a look at the one 
 little one upon wl ich I fastened as if the most precious com- 
 
534 THE FOIIAYEKS. 
 
 modities were not always packed in the smallest compass 1 
 Yet, look there, Geordie." 
 
 The poet looked in : 
 
 " Lemons, captain." 
 
 " Ay, lemons and white sugar, and nutmegs, and cloves, and 
 spices of all sorts, and an anchor of Geneva, and a box of cocoa, 
 and a bag of coffee, and a good supply of old Jamaica, and, see 
 you that keg? tongues, beef-tongues, English beef-tongues. 
 Now please you to read the name on the cover ; ay ! Lord 
 Rawdon s own prog, by the pipers, specially selected for his 
 table and palate. We shall astonish these wooden-headed 
 continentals to-night, Geordie ! won t we ? You thought me 
 rnad, didn t you, when I invited so many ? But I knew what 
 I was about. They shall stare, they shall sup, though they 
 lament for ever, after the acquisition of such a taste as their 
 vulgar fortunes can never hereafter satisfy. But mum ! Not 
 a word in anticipation." 
 
 And Porgy chsed the wagon with haste and locked it, as 
 half a dozen troopers lounged carelessly by, looking, with some 
 curiosity as they passed, to the proceedings of the two. 
 
 " Stay here, Geordie, and keep watch till I return. I must 
 put Millhouse on duty over this wagon, or there will be a Flem 
 ish account of its contents when supper s called. The morals 
 of the dragoon service, imply theft as a necessity. A good 
 scout has all the capabilities of a good pickpocket." 
 
 And, moralizing as he went, Porgy hurried off for succor. 
 Dennisou was relieved by Millhouse, a one-armed trooper of 
 iron aspect, and as stubborn of purpose as a mule. The wagon 
 was safe in his keeping as long as his left arm could lift sabre 
 or pistol and he was duly armed with both. 
 
 The next visit of our host was to Tom, the cook, who had a 
 precinct of his own, some twenty-five yards from tne spot where 
 the tables had been spread. The terrapin soup was discussed, 
 the ragout ; the stew ; the boiled tongues ; nothing escaped 
 attention. Then, a survey was taken of the crockery ; the 
 bowls, plates, dishes ; the knives and forks ; the spoons of iron, 
 the drinking vessels of delph, tin, or calabash. These commod 
 ities were too frail of character, not to need the greatest care 
 and attention ; and every feast given by our captain, mortified 
 
DOINGS IN THE APOLLO CHAMBEil. 685 
 
 him with the slenderness of his resources. "But there was no 
 remedy. If half a dozen good bowls of delph, and platters of 
 tin, could be provided for the more distinguished guests, the 
 rest might surely be satisfied with clean calabashes. We will 
 suppose our captain satisfied in respect to these things. He 
 was ill the midst of the examination, however, venting his an- 
 liuyances at his limited resources, in uneasy exclamations, when 
 a messenger from Rutledge brought him the note from that per 
 sonage apprizing him that Greene and Lee would appear among 
 his guests. The governor wrote: 
 
 " I shall take the liberty, my dear Captain Porgy, of bring 
 ing with me a couple of additional guests, in General Greene 
 and Colonel Lee, knowing that your provision will not only be 
 ample, but that the taste which usually presides over your ban 
 quets will give to our friends from Rhode Island and Virginia 
 such a notion of the tastes of Apicius and Lucullus, as certainly 
 never yet dawned upon them in their own half-civilized regions. 
 Your own courtesy will do the rest and will, I trust, sufficiently 
 justify the confidence with which I have insisted upon their 
 coming. " Yours, 
 
 "JonN RUTLEDGE" 
 
 "Humph !" exclaimed Porgy, "I should not have ventured 
 to ask General Greene, not that I stand in awe of his epaulettes, 
 but it is so rare to find a parvenu who would not hold such an in 
 vitation from a poor captain of militia, to be a piece of imper 
 tinence and presumption. Our own folks know me too well to 
 exhibit any such gaucherie. As for Lee, he is a popinjay ! I 
 should never ask him myself; but have no objection that lie 
 should occasionally appear among gentlemen who can teach 
 him, by example, how gentlemen can be good fellows without 
 any loss of dignity. Geordie your pen and a scrap of paper. 
 1 hope I diminish none of your verses by consuming your 
 foolscap." 
 
 The pen and paper were had, and our captain wrote : 
 
 " Govern Jr Rutledge can take no liberty for the propriety 
 of which his name is not a sufficient guaranty. Captain Porgy 
 will be most happy to welcome any guests whom he may think 
 proper to bring." 
 
 This written, he handed it to thi messenger. It was then 
 
636 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 that Greene s cook uncovered a small tumbril or box h, a 
 wheelbarrow, containing tlie uncooked provisions which ha,d 
 been destined for his own table. Porgy looked at the bloody 
 and livid meats with unqualified disgust. 
 
 " But," said he sotto vocc, " we can t reject them. Here, Tom." 
 
 The cook appeared, apron in front and knife in hand. 
 
 " Tom, take charge of these provisions. They are sent by 
 the general General Greene, do you hear? Use them. Cook 
 them. Turn them into soup, hash, steak, what you will!" 
 then, as the messengers of llutledge and Greene disappeared 
 " but d m you, boy, don t let them show themselves upon my 
 table. The meat is villanously butchered. That alone should 
 condemn it. Make it up for some of these young fellows that 
 have been working for us. And Tom " 
 
 Well, maussa talk quick." 
 
 " Don t forget the balls. Let there be a plenty in the soup." 
 
 " Psho, maussa, enty I know." 
 
 "Enough! Begone!" 
 
 The active mind of our corpulent captain began to grow 
 restless. He had seen to everything that he could think of, and 
 grew peevish from nothing to do. Suddenly he stuck his fin 
 gers into his hair. 
 
 "No! the vessels for the punch; Geordie. By heavens, I 
 had almost forgotten. Let us after the punchbowls, and then 
 *or the manufacture. You are good at that ; a poet should be. 
 Curious problem, Geordie the affinity between poetry and the 
 bottle." 
 
 " Not at all. It only implies the ardency of the poet. It is 
 so with the orator. You never saw poet or orator yet, that was 
 not ardent and fond of the juices of the grape." 
 
 " Not the didactic orders, surely. But how is it, then, that 
 Bacchus is not your deity instead of Apollo ?" 
 
 " Because Apollo, with virtues of his own, includes those of 
 Bacchus. He is a ripener of Bacchus, and loves not the wine 
 less, nor is less the true god of it, because he employs a vintner 
 I see no difficulty in the matter." 
 
 " And, perhaps, there is none. Yet what would Apollo say, 
 or Bacchus even, to such a punchbowl as ours." 
 
 And he pointed to an enormous calabash, holding a couple 
 
DOINGS IN THE APOLLO CHAMBER. 537 
 
 of gallons at the least, tl i t, duly valued and taken care of, had 
 survived all the vicissitudes of the campaign. 
 
 " They would, either of them, feel that there was wholesome 
 propriety in the vessel. It is one which Ceres has presented 
 for the occasion, to a kindred deity. Boon nature has provided 
 where vulgar art has failed. It would be much more staggering 
 to either of the ancient gods ta try them with the Jamaica, 
 instead of the blood of Tuscany." 
 
 " Ah ! they never got such liquor on Olympus. Their nectar 
 was a poor wishy-washy sort of stuff, of not more body tliau 
 some of those thin vaporing French and German liquors, of 
 which we have had a taste occasionally. Their wine of Tus 
 cany, nay, the Falernian of Horace, would not take rank now-a- 
 days with the juices of the common corn, prepared according 
 to our process. Drinking whiskey or Jamaica, Nero might 
 have been a fool, a wretch, a murderer might fire his city or 
 butcher his mother- might have committed any crime, but 
 cowardice ! Whiskey or Jamaica might have saved Rome 
 from Gaul and Vandal. The barbarians, be sure, drank the 
 most potent beverages." 
 
 " A notion deserving of study. We drink deep now-a-days. 
 Will our descendants beat us ? Will they laugh at our potations, 
 which rarely leave a gentleman on his legs after midnight ?" 
 
 " Ah ! say nothing of our progeny. Do not build upon the 
 degenerates. It may be that the milksops will fancy it bad 
 taste, nay, even immoral, on the part of their ancestors, to have 
 swallowed Jamaica or whiskey at all. In proportion as theii 
 heads are weak, will they pronounce ours vicious ; and just 
 because we have a certain amount of strength in our virtue 
 a certain quality of brawn and blood and muscle, to keep our 
 sentiment from etherealizing growing into mere thin air 
 will they presume to stroke their beards in self-complaisant 
 satisfaction, thanking God that such poor publicans, have given 
 way to a more saintly race of sinners. I am half inclined to 
 thank my stars that, when I disappear, the race of Porgy will 
 not be continued in the person of one who prides himself upon 
 having no head for a bottle !" 
 
 * Yes ! save us from all degenerate children. But, captain, 
 will this one calabash of punch suffice for forty ? Impossible 
 
 23* 
 
538 THE PORAYERS. ( 
 
 Two gallons among forty ! Never in tlie world ! Why, <sir, 
 there are three generals, and one governor, a score of colonels, 
 and others of inferior rank, who are emulous of great men s 
 virtues. Two gallons to forty such persons." 
 
 " Oh ! don t stop to calculate. Luckily there are two cala 
 bashes." 
 
 And the little wagon yielded up the desired article. 
 
 " Make it rich, Geordie." 
 
 " Captain Porgy, when they drink of this liquor, each man 
 will feel that his will has been made. He will feel that he has 
 no more car|^n life will fold his robes about him for flight." 
 
 " Or fall ! Well, give us a taste. I profess to be a very 
 competent judge of what a good Jamaica punch should be." 
 
 Smacks his lips. 
 
 " The proportions are good : the acid has yielded to the 
 embrace of the sugar with the recognition of a perfect faith, 
 and both succumb to the spirit, as with the recognition of a 
 perfect deity. Neyt to poetry, Geordie, you are an adept at 
 punch," 
 
 Geordie somewhat proudly : 
 
 " Yes, captain, on this score I feel safe. I am not always 
 certain of my verses. I sometimes feel that they lack the 
 sweet and the ardent but I am never doubtful of the perfect 
 harmony that prevails among all the elements when I manufac 
 ture punch." 
 
 Porgy quaffs off the contents of the dipper. 
 
 " Geordie, you are a benefactor. When this war ceases, you 
 shall partake my fortunes. You shall live with me ; and, be 
 tween punch and poetry, we will make the latter end of life 
 a felicitous Jinale to a very exciting drama. By the way, 
 Geordie, talking of poetry and punch reminds me. You must 
 bo prepared with something good to-night. I shall have you 
 out. You shall give us some heroic ballad. I know you have 
 not been drowsing in that thicket for nothing. Have you got 
 any thing ready ?" 
 
 " I have been doing a trifle, but % 
 
 " None of your buts. Get aside, and memorize it. These 
 two vessels of punch, meanwhile, we will put under lock and 
 key, and yiell to the guardianship of Sergeant Millhouse." 
 
HOW PORGY FEASTED THE CAPTAINS. 59 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 HOW PORGY FEASTED THE CAPTAINS. 
 
 W Til vulgar people, a dinner party is the occasion of much 
 fuss and fidgeting. The vulgar egotism is always on the qui 
 vive lest something should go wrong -lest something should be 
 wanting to the proper effect lest , in brief, some luckless 
 excess or deficiency should certainly- convey to the guest the 
 secret of those deficiencies, in taste, manners, experiences, and 
 resources, which would, if known, be fatal to the claims of good 
 breeding and high ton which the host is most anxious to estab 
 lish. Those, on the contrary, who feel assured on such points 
 are apt to take the events of a dinner-table coolly and with 
 comparative indifference. A blunder or a deficiency of steward 
 or servant, occasions little or no concern ; is never allowed to 
 disturb the equilibrium of the master, who takes for granted 
 that such small matters will be ascribed, by every sensible 
 guest, to the right cause ; and for the opinion of all other per 
 sons he cares not a button. 
 
 The result of this equanimity is to enable him to keep his 
 mind " in hand" for the entertainment of his company. He is 
 able to observe and to minister with promptness and full re 
 source, as his wits are not disordered by any feverish workings 
 of his amour prapre. He sees what is wanting at a glance ; 
 supplies the deficiency with a nod; his servants are duly taught 
 in the value of his nod and glance ; and the skill of the host, 
 by which the guests are diverted, enables Jack and Gill to wipe 
 up the water which they have spilt so awkwardly, in their 
 uphill progress, without attracting any notice without filling 
 the scene with most admired disorder. 
 
 Our host knows his company, and conjures up the special 
 tcpic which appeals directly to the tastes or the fancies of each 
 
540 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 He is vigilant even while lie seems most at ease ; when his in 
 difference is most apparent, it is made to cover a becoming 
 solicitude for the comfort of the humblest person present. He 
 provides himself with the proper cue to all your prejudices and 
 affections, as by a divine instinct, so that he steers clear of the 
 one, and shapes his course directly for the other; and when the 
 waters are unluckily ruffled, by some bull-headed companion, 
 who treads on his neighbor s toes without even suspecting that 
 lie has corns, our host is at hand to pour oil upon the troubled 
 waters, and soothe to calm the temper which is ruffled. He 
 contrives, at the same time, that the offender shall be taught the 
 nature of his offence, without being brought up to the halberds 
 and set in pillory, 
 
 " Pour les encourager les autres" 
 
 There was nothing doubtful about the aplomb of Captain 
 Porgy. Having prepared his feast according to the full extent 
 of his resources; drilled his awkward squad to the utmost of his 
 capacity and their susceptibilities; seen that they were in suf 
 ficient numbers for proper attendance; and made, in brief, all 
 his preparations, he gave himself no further concern, but pro- 
 pared to receive his guests, with the e:u>y good nature, the 
 frank politeness, the smiling grace, of an old-school gentleman. 
 And it is quite an error to talk, as we are apt to do, of the for 
 mality of the old-school gentleman. The gentleman of two 
 hundred or one hundred years ago, differed very slightly in his 
 bearing from the same class at the present day. In due degree 
 as his ceremonials ran into formalities, did he lose the character 
 of the gentleman. In no period was mere form and buckram 
 ever confounded, by sensible people, with politeness an*! re 
 finement. 
 
 Never was gentleman more perfectly at ease in crowded as 
 sembly, yet more solicitous of the claims of all about him, than 
 our corpulent captain. His shrewd good sense, nice tastes, 
 playful humors, and frank spirit, all harmonizing happily, en 
 abled him to play the host generally to the equal satisfaction of 
 all his company. He had the proper* welcome for each as he 
 drew nigh ; the proper word, which set each person at his ease, 
 and prepared him for the development of all his conversational 
 resources. 
 
HOW PORGY FEASTED THE CAPTAINS. 641 
 
 Among the first of his guests to appear were Governor 
 Rutledge and General Greene. " The really great," said Porgy 
 to Lance Frampton who stood behind him, " never keep the 
 table waiting." 
 
 The approach to the scene was through a great natural avenue 
 of lofty green pines, through which the moon was peeping curi 
 ously with a bright smile, a disinterested spectator of the pro 
 ceedings. Music timed the approaches of the guests, the army 
 band having been secured for the evening. Porgy welcomed 
 his guests at the entrance of the area in which his tables had 
 been spread. 
 
 " General Greene, Captain Porgy," said Rutledge. Greene 
 took the outstretched hand of the host, saying : 
 
 " What I have heard of you, Captain Porgy, makes me tres 
 pass without fear of the consequences." 
 
 " And what I know of General Greene enables me to welcome 
 him with every hope of the consequences. I am very grateful 
 to Governor Rutledge for doing that which, as a poor captain 
 of militia, I should scarcely have ventured to do myself." 
 
 " I knew my customers both, my dear captain," said Rut- 
 ledge, " and knew how little was necessary to render the regular 
 and volunteer service grateful to each other." 
 
 " Be seated, gentlemen," said Porgy, " while I put myself on 
 duty for a while ;" and he resumed his place at the opening of 
 the avenue, while Suinter, Marion, and the rest severally pre 
 sented themselves, were welcomed and conducted to the interior 
 by young Frampton, who did the duties of an aid. Colonel 
 Lee was among the latest to appear. 
 
 " My dear Porgy," said he condescendingly "I am late; 
 but the cavalry of the legion is on vigilant duty to-night, and 
 a good officer you know eh !" 
 
 And he left it to our host to conceive the rest. 
 
 " Col. Lee may be forgiven, if late among his friends, when we 
 know that his enemies rarely reproach him for a like remissness." 
 
 The grace of Porgy s manner happily blended with the grave 
 dignity of his address. Lee smiled at the compliment: 
 
 "Always ready, Porgy never to be outdone in the play of 
 compliment, or the retort courteous ;" and while speaking he 
 was ushered in with other visitors. 
 
THE FOUAYKUS. 
 
 The company was at length assembled. The music ceased. 
 A single bugle sounded from the amphitheatre, and the guests 
 disposed themselves without confusion under the whispered 
 suggestions of Lieutenant Frampton. Porgy took his place at 
 the head of the table, standing, till all were seated. 
 
 : Gentlemen," said he, "be pleased to find places at the 
 board. Colonel Singleton, you are my vis-a-vis. Governor 
 Rutledge will you honor me by sitting at my right. General 
 Greene, 1 have presumed to assign you the seat at my left." 
 
 Right and left of Singleton, Marion and Sumter were placed. 
 At one end of the table crossing the centre of the board, Colonel 
 Lee was seated, Colonel Maham occupied the other. Carrington, 
 Horry, Mellichampe, St. Julien, and others found places be 
 tween these several termini. Scarcely had they been seated 
 when four great calabash tureens were placed severally at the 
 extremities, the odorous vapors from which appealed gratefully 
 to every nostril in company. 
 
 " Turtle soup !" was the delighted murmur. 
 " And lemons !" 
 
 And as the smoking vessels were set before the governor and 
 General Greene, the former exclaimed : 
 
 " Faith, Captain Porgy, your last voyage to the West Indies 
 seems to have been a highly prosperous adventure." 
 
 " In truth," said Greene, " I am half inclined to think that 
 there must have been some such enterprise, of which General 
 Marion has forgotten to apprize me." 
 
 " I begin seriously to suspect him," said Rutledge. " The 
 fact is that General Marion is so fond of secret enterprises, and 
 audacious ones does things with so much despatch, and thinks 
 it so easy to do the impossible, that I half balieve he has made 
 a three nights run for the Havana, or sent off a favorite squad 
 on a sortie in that direction. Say, general, is it not so ? Let us 
 know the truth of it. You found, among your captures at 
 Georgetown, some ready-rigged sloop or schooner, and sent her 
 out on a cruise in anticipation of this very occasion." 
 
 " Nay, governor, the merits of the enterprise, such as it was 
 and the fruits thereof, are due entirely to our host It was hit 
 adventure wholly, though we share the spoils." 
 
 "But, where where where " began Peter Horry, stut. 
 
HOW PORGY FEASTED THE CAPTAINS. 5lo 
 
 tering, " wlicre tlic devil did lie did lie get em turtles and 
 lemons! T don t don t understand it at all." 
 
 " Better not press the inquiry, Horry," said Singleton with a 
 sly smile upon the company " the discovery will hardly add 
 to your own laurels." 
 
 "How my laurels! What what I want to to know 
 have my laurels to do to do with the matter?" 
 
 "Let s have it, Colonel Singleton," said Rutledge eagerly. 
 " Out with the story. Colonel Horry is so seldom to be caught 
 napping that I sli* 1 ! rejoice to have one story at his expense." 
 
 " Ay, ay, the story, Singleton," from a dozen voices around 
 the board. 
 
 Tell tell tell, if you will," stuttered Horry "only be 
 sure, and tell the the truth, and shame you know 
 who." 
 
 " The adventure illustrates the military character of the two 
 gentlemen most admirably," said Singleton. " Colonel Horry 
 is a gentleman of large eyes and grapples with objects of mag 
 nitude always. It is Captain Porgy s pleasure to be discrimina 
 ting and select. The lemons and a variety of other edibles are 
 furnished, unwillingly, I grant you, by Lord Rawdon himself. 
 They form a part of the supplies brought up by Colonel Stewart. 
 In dashing at Stewart s convoy, Horry passed a mean little 
 wagon in the rear, as quite unworthy his regards. He swept 
 off as you know three or four others of considerable value to 
 the army. But the very littleness of this wagon which Horry 
 had despised, fixed the regards of our host. He quietly pos 
 sessed himself of it, and was rewarded with the private stores 
 designed for Lord Rawdon himself." The story produced a 
 laugh at the expense of Horry. 
 
 " Who who who the devil," said he, would have thought 
 of of anything good in that rickety concern ? I d like 
 to know, Captain Porgy, what you got besides the lemons ?" 
 
 "Whitv. sugars, coffee, tea, spices, Spanish sweetmeats, pre 
 served ginger, three kegs of Jamaica, and a goodly variety 
 besides !" 
 
 " The d 1 ! and and I to miss em all." 
 * But you got loads of bacon and flour, Horry." 
 Several bales of blankets/ 
 
 J 
 
644 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " Ay, and a bathing-tub and complete set of chamber crock 
 ery !" 
 
 " What," said Rutledge, " was there a bathing-tub and cham 
 ber crockery ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed." 
 
 " Who could have wanted that, I wonder ?" 
 
 " Some young ensign of the buffs or blues," said Pcrgy ; 
 " whose mother was duly considerate of the young man s skin 
 in a warm climate. You should have discovered Colonel Kerry s 
 visage when that wagon was burst open and the contents re 
 vealed. The bathing-tub and furniture filled the wagon." 
 
 " What did he say, Porgy ? Tell us that !" 
 
 "Say! Ah! What was it, colonel? Deliver it yourself: 
 nobody can repeat it half so well." 
 
 " He re repeat it yourself, if you can !" said Horry stut 
 tering and dipping up his soup with increased rapidity. 
 
 " Out with it, Captain Porgy. Horry s speech. " 
 
 Porgy nodded to Singleton, who answered: 
 
 " I heard it, and as Horry permits will deliver it. He said, 
 
 stamping his feet in a rage : Throw out the d d basins, and 
 
 break up the blasted tub. Who would have thought of any 
 fellow being such a bloody booby as to bring a bathing-tub and 
 chamber crockery into a pond and bush country V " 
 
 And slightly imitating the stammer of Horry so as to give a 
 lively idea of his manner, Singleton set the table in a roar 
 When the laugh had subsided : 
 
 "But did he break up the crockery, Porgy?" 
 
 " Every bowl and basin. He was merciless. You never 
 saw such havoc. His broadsword played elephant in the crock 
 ery shop to perfection, and the dragoons, delighted with the 
 humors of their colonel, went into the work of demolition with a 
 rush." 
 
 "I had no no no use for the d d d d 
 
 d d things," said Horry; "and I was de de de 
 
 termined to give the d d puppy that owned them a lesson. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 " But where did the turtles come from ?" 
 
 " From the genius of my cook, Tom," said Porgy. The 
 turtle are terrapin from the Caw-caw." 
 
HOW PORGY FEASTED THE CAPTAINS. 545 
 
 Not the alligator terrapin, captain, I hope," said Sumter. 
 " I could never bring myself to eat any of that order." 
 
 I" You have done it on this occasion," said Porgy. 
 "And very effectually too, general," said Singleton, " since 
 I have helped you to a second supply, and you seem in a fair 
 way to need a third." 
 
 Sumter looked a little blank. 
 
 " Do not be discomfited, general," said Porgy, " since I took 
 rl.c precaution to have all their tails cut off before they were 
 hashed up for the soup." 
 
 ".But what did you do with the tails?" 
 
 " Ah ! they were made into balls, with a due proportion of 
 beef and bacon." 
 
 " You have caught me beyond escape, captain, since I confess 
 to have done as much execution on the balls as on the soup." 
 
 "And you are surprised into a wisdom, general, that has 
 cured you of the prejudices of twenty years ! What we call 
 the alligator terrapin is the best of the tribe the fattest, rich 
 est, best flavored. It requires only that skill in the dressing 
 - which my man Tom supplies." 
 
 The bugle sounded. Sergeant Millhouse marshalled the wait 
 ers to their stations, and the emptied vessels were removed. 
 With another blast of the bugle, new dishes were set on the 
 
 table. 
 
 "A noble-looking fish," said Greene. "What fish is this, 
 
 Captain Porgy ?" 
 
 " The greatest delicacy of a fresh-water river, this is the 
 Kdisto blue cat for very nice people a most discouraging 
 iKivnc. Gentlemen, look to yourselves. Here is boiled fish, 
 .Mich as George the Third can not procure ; dressed in a style 
 which would not discredit the table of our great ally, the king 
 of France. Men of gout will of course prefer the boiled for 
 the undeveloped taste, the fry is abundant. There are perch 
 and trout in those several dishes. Tney are all fresh from the 
 Edisto within five hours." 
 
 " Your troopers have been busy, captain." 
 
 "Ay, sir, and my cook. He was fortunate in his search 
 along the river this morning, to come upon three or four fish 
 traps ; which he emptied without leave. Governor, the melted 
 
540 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 butter is beside you. By-the-way, thos. naval biscuit are also 
 from tlie stores 0.1 y Lord Bawdon. General, do not dream 
 of defiling that/^h with vinegar. It is an abomination in this 
 case.. The fish only entreats the butter, and the dressing is 
 complete." 
 
 The eye of Porgy swept the table. The guests discussed 
 the fish with the relish of starving men. There was a cessation. 
 The finger of Porgy was lifted. Millhouse s bugle gave tongue, 
 and the fish was superseded with a variety of dishes. 
 
 "General Greene Governor Rutledge suffer me to per 
 suade you both to the ragout which is before me." 
 
 " What is it, captain ?" 
 
 " Try it, general. It is the alerta the green alerta a sort 
 of chicken you will find it, but far superior. The stew is of 
 the lagarta, according to the Spaniards, and a dish quite a 
 rare as exquisite on table. Gentlemen, interspersed with these 
 dishes you will find more familiar, but inferior ones. There 
 are hams and tongues, both from the stores of Lord Bawdon, 
 and, in fact, most of this course will be found of foreign charac 
 ter. You will please ask me for no more revelations touching 
 my mode of procuring supplies, as I have no wish to expose the 
 breaking of any more crockery. It is not every one of our par 
 tisans who can bear, with so much equanimity as Colonel 
 Horry, the story of his own acquisitions, and how made." 
 
 " This what do you call it ?" said Greene. 
 
 "Alerta!" 
 
 " Is delicious !" 
 
 " And nothing could be more savory than this stew, Captain 
 Porgy." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, governor the Spaniards have the merit of 
 the discovery. But gentlemen, with this course, it is time to 
 spiritualize the feast." 
 
 The speaker s finger was uplifted, and two enormous bowls of 
 punch were set down at the two ends of the table. 
 
 " Gentlemen, we owe a great deal to the providence of Lord 
 Bawdon." 
 
 " And the improvidence of Horry," whispered Butledge, " for, 
 of a verity, had he captured these spoils, he would never have 
 made the same use of them as our host has done." 
 
HOW POR^Y FEASTED THE CAPTAINS. 547 
 
 "Sir," said Porgy with solemnity "bo would have wasted 
 them naked, upon his dragoons. U* ;k-men, you will please 
 fill for a sentiment. Colonel Singleton h ee that your end of the 
 table charges duly." 
 
 " We are ready, captain." 
 Porgy rising : 
 
 "Gentlemen, our first regular sentiment: The cause of 
 Liberty the cause of the American continent the cause of 
 all continents wherever man has a living soul ! " 
 " Music." And the bands struck up. 
 
 " Captain Porgy," said Lee, " send me, if you please, a second 
 supply of that dish which you call the alerta. I don t know 
 what sort of bird it is, but the savor is that of young pigeons. 
 It is wonderfully nice." 
 
 " I agree with you, Lee," said Colonel Williams, " though I 
 have no more idea what the bird is than of the mansions of the 
 moon. Let me trouble you also, Captain Porgy." 
 
 [ must also trespass, captain," said Carrington. " Ordi 
 narily, I seldom suffer myself to eat of dishes of which I know 
 nothing ; but these foreign meats come to us under good guar 
 anties, though half the time without a name at all." 
 
 ^ Unless French, which is so much Greek to, me," said Maham. 
 " Captain, that lagarla stew is princely." 
 
 No crowned head in Europe enjoys the like. Shall I help 
 you, Colonel Maham ?" 
 
 Thank you, yes. But I thought you called it foreign." 
 : So it is- in one sense; but this is not imported. It is 
 wholly domestic." 
 
 " Well, foreign or domestic, it is first rate," said Greene. " I 
 will try a little more of it, Captain Porgy." 
 
 "Ah! general," -with a smile suffer me to say that it 
 is only in the militia service, after all, that the taste properly 
 refines. Governor, shall I serve you ?" 
 
 " Thank you, I will mince a little of your lagarta, captain," 
 and a sly glance of Rutledge apprized the captain of his sus 
 picions. But the face of Porgy made no revelations. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Singleton, at the other end of the table, 
 "" fill your glasses. . 
 
 " Beady, all," said Porgy. 
 
548 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Singleton rose, and gave : * 
 
 " South Carolina almost freed from the footstep of the for 
 eign tyrant, and rising to the full assertion of her own sover 
 eignty !" 
 
 A brilliant hurst from John Rutledge, brief, but like a fiery 
 tongue speaking to the soul, followed this sentiment ; and .the 
 music rose into a triumphant peal as his voice died away upon 
 the echoes. Other sentiments succeeded other speeches ; Hut- 
 ledge, Greene, Marion, Sumter, Lee, were all duly honored with 
 toasts, and all responded, .each after his own fashion, all unaffect 
 edly, simply, and with the proper earnestness of soldiers. And 
 the punch flowed anew into fresh goblets, and the merriment 
 grew high, and some of the grave barons began to sing in 
 snatches, and the volunteer toasts filled up the pauses in the 
 conversation. Meanwhile, a score of melons were placed upon 
 the board, and the preserved fruits from the West Indies, 
 guava and ginger, were crowded upon the board, and pro 
 voked new merriment at the expense of Rawdon, who lost, and 
 Horry who refused to find the prize. 
 
 And while they gashed deeply the purple centres of the 
 melons, Rutledge suddenly said to Porgy : 
 
 "And now, captain, that you have had your triumph, that 
 all present have borne testimony in the least equivocal inanuei 
 to the merits of your feast, I would fain know of what those for 
 eign dishes were compounded, of which, knowing nothing, all 
 have partaken so freely. Hams and tongues, fresh from Brit 
 ain, designed for my Lord Rawdoivs own table, have been sent 
 away from yours uncut proof of homage, the most profound, 
 to yet preferable meats. Pray tell us, then, what were the ele 
 ments of your lagarta and your alerta your ragouts and 
 stews." 
 
 " Ay, ay," seconded the company, " let us know. What 
 were the birds 1" 
 
 "I should really be pleased to know, Captain Porgy," said 
 General Greene, bowing, " touching those birds." 
 
 " There need be no mystery in it now, general, since, as 
 Governor Rutledge says, the feast has triumphed. But I am 
 afraid I shall too greatly confound you, when I state that the 
 dishes contained no birds at all. The stew of alerta was com 
 
HOW PORGY FEASTED THE CAPTAINS. 549 
 
 pounded chiefly of the race which helped Homer in the con 
 struction of an epic a race which Milton describes as the 
 
 " Small infantry 
 Warred on by cranes. " 
 
 " You surely do not mean frogs, Captain Porgy ?" cried Lee, 
 with affected horror in his accents. 
 
 " Your guess is a sagacious one, and worthy of the legion, 
 Colonel Lee." 
 
 " Good heavens ! and is it come to this, that the soldiers of 
 liberty should be reduced to the necessity of frog-eating V 
 
 "Necessity, Colonel Lee!" exclaimed Rutledge. "By 
 heavens, sir, it should be matter of taste and preference, sir, 
 if only in due deference to our great Gallic ally ; but, of a 
 truth, sir, after to-day s feast, it should be a new argument in 
 behalf of liberty, that she has brought us to such rare fine feed 
 ing and .such improved tastes." 
 
 "And the other dish, Captain Porgy," demanded Sumter, 
 " the stew with the Spanish name ?" 
 
 "The name speaks for itself lagarta. It is of the great 
 lizard family the cayman in vulgar speech, the alligator. 
 But the specimens employed, gentlemen, were mere juveniles ; 
 young vagabonds, whose affectionate parents had hardly suffered 
 them out of sight before. They had probably never fed on 
 larger prey than their neighbors of the alerta family." 
 
 " One question, Captain Porgy," said Carrington ; " be so 
 good as to inform me, if, among your several unfamiliar dishes, 
 I have had the happiness to eat of the rattlesnake, the viper, 
 the moccasin, or the boa-constrictor ?" 
 
 " Alas ! colonel, I grieve to say that you have not. I should 
 have been pleased to have got a couple of young chicken-snakes, 
 but I was not fortunate in the search. We got glimpse of a few 
 runners [black-snakes], but they were quite too swift of foot for 
 the hunters. The chicken-snake is of unexceptionable tender 
 ness ; the runner is a little too muscular, if not previously well 
 sodden ; but, unless near a hencoop, or a ecrncrib, it is not easy 
 to find the chicken-snake. 1 repeat my regrets that I could not 
 secure this delicacy for my table. But another time, Colonel 
 Carrington, should you sup with me, I will make a special 
 effort in your behalf." 
 
550 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 " I thank you, sir ; do not suffer your regrets to disturb you. 
 For that matter, I am half doubtful whether your alerta and 
 lagarta, of which I have, in my ignorance, partaken somewhat, 
 too freely, will continue to lie lightly on my soul or stomach." 
 
 " Have no fears, sir ; and the better to secure their repose, 
 do me the honor, sir, of a bowl of punch with me. Gentlemen, 
 I entreat the whole table to our companionship." 
 And the vessels were filled and emptied. 
 "And now, gentlemen," continued the host, I give you 
 The poets, who minister at once to Apollo, to Bacchus, and to 
 Mars, and beg to introduce you to the only representative of 
 the faculty in our squadron, Mr. George Dennison, my ensign. 
 If I mistake not, he has been this day as busy with the muse, 
 as I with my cook ; and, if we will suffer him, he will bring us 
 gifts from Parnassus not unworthy of those which we have en 
 joyed from the provision- wagon of Lord Rawdon." 
 
 " In which Horry, going from Dan to Beersheba, could see 
 nothing." 
 
 " Having a taste for baths, warming-pans, and chamber-furni 
 ture." 
 
 " Nough of that that Singleton! I I I m a sinner 
 be be beyond salvation, if I ever pass a little mean-looking 
 wagon again, without seeing what s in it." 
 "But Mr. Dennison," said Rutledge. 
 
 "George! Geordic !" said Porgy, good-humoredly. The 
 poet, hitherto the only silent person at table, now rose a tall, 
 slender person, of bright, lively eye, mouth full of expression. 
 Grecian nose, and great forehead rising up like a tower. His 
 cheeks were flushed, his frame trembled, and there was an evi 
 dent quivering of the lip which was discernible to every eye 
 about him. Dennison sang the verses, which he wrote, in a 
 clear, military voice, shrill like a clarion. There was, perhaps, 
 no great deal of music in his composition, but enough for the 
 present purpose, and of the kind best suited, perhaps, for a 
 military gathering bold, free, eager and full of animation. 
 His ballad had been the work of that very afternoon. 
 
 He had no prefaces. But, waiting till the music hushed, and 
 the voices, he then began : 
 
HOW TOIIGY FEASTED THE OBTAINS 
 
 THE BATTLE FEAST. 
 
 To the dark and bloody feast, 
 
 Haste ye battle vultures, haste ; 
 There is banquet, man and beast, 
 
 For your savage taste : 
 Never on such costly wassail 
 
 Did ye flesh your beaks before ; 
 Come, ye slaves of Hesse Cassel,* 
 
 To be sold no morel 
 
 Small your cost to George of Britain, 
 
 One and sixpence sterling down -f 
 Yet for this, ye sorry chapmen, 
 
 Each will lose his crown ; 
 Freedom knows no price for valor, 
 
 Yours is measured by the groat, 
 Britain pays in gold and silver, 
 
 We in steel and shot 
 
 Recreants, ye from Scottish Highlands,! 
 
 Lately rebels to the throne 
 Of that brutal foreign despot, 
 
 Now, whose sway ye own ; 
 Ye are welcome to the banquet, 
 
 Which is spread for all who come, 
 Where the eater is the eaten, 
 
 And the deathsman goes to doom. 
 
 And ye braggart sons of Erin, 
 
 Loathing still the sway ye bear, 
 Groaning in the very fetters, 
 
 Ye would make us wear; 
 Ever writhing, ever raging, 
 
 Neath the bonds ye can not break 
 Here the bloody banquet woos ye, 
 
 Gather and partake 1 
 
 The Hessians, hired at so much per head to the crown of Britain for the war in Amer 
 lea, formed no smnll portion of the British army 
 
 t We are not sure that Master George Dennison is altogether right in this statement of 
 Wrtwy 8 SSmn8 P r bUt thC difference is "material, whether in poetry or 
 
 J The exiled rebels of 45, when settled in America, almost wholly proved adherents of 
 that monarch whom as followers of the Stuart,, they opposed to the kaife. The disaster 
 hem of all propensity to rebcllmn. Even the Macdonnlds, the famous Hector 
 
 ~ a11 became loyal to George the Third 
 
THE FORAYERS. 
 
 Stoop, ye vulture ?, to the issue, 
 
 It will be ere set of sun ! 
 Mark whose valor bides the longest, 
 
 Blood of price or blood of none. 
 Comes the Tartan of Gleuorchy, 
 
 Comes the sullen Saxon boor, 
 Comes the light-heeled German yager 
 
 Crowding to the shore ! 
 
 Who shall meet them by the water 
 
 On the mountain, in the vale, 
 Meet them with the stroke of slaughter 
 
 Till the right arm fail 1 
 Wherefore ask? Yon pealing summon* 
 
 Finds fit answer, sharp and soon, 
 Answer fit for peers and commons, 
 
 Yager and dragooi.. 
 
 Lo ! the soul that makes a nation, 
 
 Which, from out the ranks of toil, 
 Upward springs in day of peril, 
 
 Soul to save the soil! 
 Comes a high and mighty aspect, 
 
 From the shores of Powhatan; 
 Lo! in him the nation s hero, 
 
 Glorious perfect man !* 
 
 Follows, rugged as his mountains, 
 
 Daring man from Bennington;f 
 Blacksmith stout from Narraganset,^ 
 
 Good where deeds are done: 
 Comes the keen-eyed Santee rifle, 
 
 Sleepless still and swift as flame, 
 Rowel rashing, bullet wingingj 
 
 Man of deadly aim. 
 
 Stoop, ye vultures, to the issue, 
 
 Stoop, and scour the bloody plain 
 Flesh your beaks where fat the carnage, 
 
 Mountains up the slain : 
 Whose the skull your talon rendeth - 
 
 Eye, within your dripping beak, 
 Speechless tongue that loosely lolleth 
 
 On divided cheek t 
 
 In the tartan of Glenorchy, 
 Scarlet of the Saxon boor, 
 
 fVoshiugton. t Stark. J Greeue. % Sumter Mario*. 
 
HOW PORGY FEA8TED TiJfi CAPTAINS. 663 
 
 Gray frock of the Hessian yager 
 
 Strewn from mount to shore , 
 Read the fate of hireling valor, 
 
 Read the doom of foreign foe, 
 Know that he who smites for freedom, 
 
 Ever strikes the deadly blow 1 
 
 It was in the midst of the compliments of the party to the 
 poet, that Willie Sinclair stole in to the table, and plucked the 
 sleeve of Marion, who rose quickly and quietly, and went out 
 with him in silence. The company sat at the table some time 
 longer. 
 
 " Why your poet seems a genuine Birserker, Captain Porgy. 
 This chant was worthy to be sung in the hall of Odin. Does 
 he fight as bravely as he sings." 
 
 " Every bit, sir, and he goes into battle with the same con 
 vulsive sort of tremor with which he begins to sing or to recite. 
 But that passes off in a few moments, and then he fairly rages. 
 In fact, sir, it is not easy for him to arrest himself, and he 
 sometimes shows himself rather too savage in strife with 
 rather too great an appetite for blood." 
 
 " You are as fortunate, Captain Porgy, in your poet as your 
 cook; I would I could persuade them from you! Who? Do 
 you say ?" 
 
 These last words were spoken to Lieutenant Frampton, who 
 had whispered something into Rutledge s ear. 
 
 " Colonel Sinclair, your excellency. He waits you without, 
 along with General Marion." 
 
 "Instantly" and, watching his opportunity, while beakers 
 were filling, Rutledge stole away. Greene followed his exam 
 ple, so did Sumter and the elder officers ; the young ones re 
 mained, and soon Captain Porgy, his veneration no longer 
 active, was in full flight, keeping the table in a roar, with 
 merry jest, jibe, and story, till the hours grew something smaller 
 than the stars, and the moon had a hooded, downcast looking 
 
 O 
 
 visage, as if she had seen or heard something to shock her 
 modesty. Let us leave the revellers while they make a finaj 
 onslaught upon the punchbowls. 
 
 ?4 
 
TI1E F011AYER3. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 iSCENE CLOSES IN CLOUD AND MYSTERY 
 
 IT is a necessary law of our existence that we are not al 
 lowed to have things just as we wish them. Life runs not more 
 smoothly than love. The course of both is broken with fre 
 quent impediments, if only in order that the stream should 
 possess a due degree of vitality for its own strength and puri 
 fication. We are not allowed to feel secure, at any moment, 
 in our possession, or in the full realization of our favorite pur 
 poses. Use all precautions, exercise all our vigilance, assert 
 duly all our resources of thought and genius, and still we find 
 ourselves thwarted by impediments which we are rarely able 
 to foresee, and not often able to contend with. 
 
 Willie Sinclair had proved himself as circumspect, vigilant 
 and industrious as brave. H*e had cheerfully gone to his tasks 
 and these were as various as exacting. He had calmly under 
 taken the most perilous situations, and had encountered their 
 difficulties and dangers with an ability which had resulted, thus 
 far, in the most perfect success, in all those respects which con 
 cerned the interests of the army and the country. He had 
 won the admiration even of SUC-M admirable judges arid per 
 "ormers as Rutledge and Marion. But in his personal fortunes 
 in respect to those interests which concerned his individual 
 sympathies and affections everything had gone wrpng. He 
 had offended his father by his patriotism had still further 
 offended him, by suffering his heart to go astray into pastures 
 which were forbidden and now the added mortification of 
 seeing the object of his affections, and all her family, involved 
 in dangers, including sundry forms of peril, while in his keep 
 ing partially, and mostly because of their connection with 
 himself; in this 1 ^ the chief sting of his present suffering. 
 
SCENE CLOSES IN CLOUD AND MYSTERY. 555 
 
 He had failed utterly in Ins search after Bertha m <> her 
 mother. They had left no traces which he could light upon. 
 Such as he had followed, had only deluded him from the right 
 path ; and he returned to camp in despair. He had lost every 
 clue to the pursuit. For the moment, he appeared unmanned ; 
 and when he had reported the results of his expedition to 
 Marion, it required all the ingenuity of the famous partisan to 
 inspirit him. Not that he was disposed to forego future exer 
 tion in the pursuit of his object. That was the one purpose 
 which he had in contemplation ; and when he summoned his 
 general out to a conference, it was with the view to obtaining 
 the desired permission to continue his search after the family 
 of Travis, without regard to the action of the army. 
 
 Marion fully sympathized with the natural grief and appre 
 hension of our hero. He knew, just as well as anybody else, 
 what should be the apprehensions felt for the safety of Mrs. 
 Travis and her daughter to say nothing of the father and sor, 
 He knew the wild outlawry ranging through the country ; the 
 reckless brutality of the refugees on both sides; the cold and 
 savage nature of Inglehardt ; the dangers which threatened 
 male and female equally of the scattered family. But he had 
 his consolations. He gave Sinclair a full report of the resolves 
 made in council, and mentioned the fact that, with Greene s 
 permission, Rutledge had reserved himself (Sinclair) with the 
 corps of St. Julien, for special duties, which he had yet kept 
 private. 
 
 " I have no question, major, that the governor has done so in 
 order to give you carte blanche, with special referei^e to the 
 Travis family. But here he comes." 
 
 Rutledge appeared at the remark, and shook Sinclair s hand 
 with affectionate sympathy. 
 
 " Come further this way general," said he. And they retired 
 to a fallen tree on the edge of a thicket, and there seated them 
 selves. "You have been unsuccessful, Sinclair?" 
 " Wholly so, governor." 
 "No clues?" 
 
 " Non3, sir ! I followed such only as misled me. I have 
 not the the slightest idea what course now to pursue. I have 
 uo traces of the party, and no plans." 
 
556 THE FORAYSRS. 
 
 " Ideas," said Rutledge, cheerily, " do not obey the will ! 
 They come without premeditation. You may not have thera 
 to-night, but they will come with the morning. You know not 
 how wonderful is sleep, in giving freedom to conjecture. You 
 are exhausted. You have not slept; with such a state of 
 your nervous system, to think would be impossible " 
 
 And he felt the pulse of the dragoon officer as he spoke, and 
 looked into his eyes. 
 
 " Your nervous system is cut of order. You have neither 
 slept nor supped. You must do both, or you will be sick. Your 
 tone is enfeebled. You must especially exert your will, if you 
 would be usefully active. Hear me, colonel and by the way, 
 here is your commission. You will do me the honor to accept 
 this proof of my high appreciation of your recent services." 
 
 Sinclair bowed as he took the paper. 
 
 " Hear me, Sinclair. You are physically weak, mentally 
 suffering morally and physically prostrated. If you do not 
 bring up your body, by the exercise of your mind, you will 
 have fever in twenty -four hours. Now, my dear fellow, do you 
 conceive the mischief of that fever ? It will incapacitate you 
 for this search after the Travis family ! I have set my heart 
 on this search, which can be executed by nobody so well as 
 yourself. That damsel, Bertha Travis, and her excellent 
 mother, succeeded in the brief meeting which I had with them, 
 in twining themselves about my heart. I am resolved that 
 you shall recover them! For this purpose, anticipating or 
 holding as possible your present failure, I obtained General 
 Marion s consent to the appropriation, to my own object, of 
 your services and those of Captain St. Julien with his troop. 
 You arc to enjoy a roving commission ; moving at your own dis 
 cretion, and only required to co-operate with General Sumter s 
 command when occasion offers. Now, my dear Sinclair, unless 
 you assert your will, for the benefit of your body, this commis 
 sion will be of no value in your hands. You will be on your 
 back, prostrate with fever, in less than twenty -four hours. Now, 
 it is useless to tell a man that he must feed, or physic, rest, or 
 work, if hig mind does not spring in concert with the counsel. 
 I tell you what is before you what is the trust given to your 
 bands what is the danger to the objects which you love ai)d 
 
SCENE CLOSES IN CLOUD AND MYSTEliY. 557 
 
 it is the degree of force that we can accord to you in the 
 "sedition of your duties. We can do no more. Nobody can 
 <!< more foi you. You must do the rest for yourself. Look to 
 the danger look to the trust. Let your mind rise to the exi 
 gency, and you will grow strong; you must will it will it 
 and sleep and eat, under the will which demands that you be 
 strong. These ladies you can rescue -no doubt of it if you 
 give-^y our self a little time, and work with heart. Travis you 
 m.iy rescue. I see nothing to alarm you for the safety of either 
 of these parties, if you only feel what you have to do, and re 
 solve to do it with your usual promptness. If not then God 
 be merciful to this poor family, for they are all in a most serious 
 danger." 
 
 "All! if it be not too late, sir!" answered Sinclair, in 
 choking accents. 
 
 " We -Ire not to suppose this under any circumstances. It is 
 sufficient to Jind it too late. The very fear that it is so, is apt 
 to enfeeble the exertion, which would else provide the remedy. 
 But, in the case of Travis and his son, it can not be too late, 
 we know. We know the game of their captor, supposing him 
 to be Inglehardt. His profit lies in keeping the secret of 
 Travis, and using it against the terrors of his prisoner. It is 
 only when he finds that nothing can be gained, in this way, that 
 lie will betray him. Meanwhile, we may be very sure that 
 Inglehardt will keep father and son as secretly as safely. He 
 would lose all hold upon the family were they surrendered as 
 prisoners to the British. He has the two somewhere in private 
 bonds. In respect to Mrs. Travis and her daughter, the rapidity 
 with which they have been carried off is, itself, in some degree, 
 proof of their safety. Brutality and outrage, if designed, would 
 be perpetrated instantly, and their captors would not have bur 
 dened themselves with the prisoners. They are clearly kept 
 for ransom; and this proves that they have been taken if 
 taken at all by those who are not connected with the regular 
 service ; some outlying bands of tories : and we know that there 
 have been several skulking about in this region. There has 
 been some clever trick by which the tracks of the carriage have 
 been concealed. In your impetuosity, you have probably failed 
 to examine the ground with sufficient care. In all probability 
 
558 
 
 THE FORAYERS. 
 
 there has been some route across the Caw-caw nearer . } 
 one at which you crossed, and over which they h.-r. 
 taken. It is not impossible, indeed, that they have era 
 the track of the British army, and have gone into Orang i 
 "If Ballon were here ! or even Brain !" said Sinclair Sj 
 And he mused, and speculated aloud. His mind ^V^^l 
 wore beginning to work, under the practical coercion* 
 of Rutledge. The latter knew quite well that the bo? r 
 for the despondency of an eager mind, is new responsi 
 provocation and lie gave it. The discussion of ; 
 succeeded. The general plan of the raid contemplated }-> 
 partisans was unfolded, in all its necessary details, for Sinclair s 
 information ; and, in its examination, he gradually showed to 
 his hearers that he was beginning to exert that will, the activ 
 ity of which, Rutledge insisted, was necessary to keep him from 
 prostration by disease. At length Marion said : A 
 
 " Sinclair knows all that we need tell him, governor. Let 
 him brood to-night what there is left of it over what he 
 knows. He will have some leisure in the morning also, since 
 none of the mounted men will take up the linfc of march 
 until the infantry is sufficiently advanced. We must keep our 
 ground here, and cover their departure from the enemy. If 
 Rawdon marches out from Orangeburg, even witli all the force 
 of Cruger added to his own, we can head them at pleasure. 
 Our friend, here, will have need to think for the next twelve 
 hours, as to his own plan of operations. In that time he may 
 hear from his scouts. At all events, whether he hears or not, 
 his policy is now to be deliberate. He must re-examine the 
 ground where the carriage was concealed ; and to do this thor 
 oughly, let him take any scout he pleases from my command. 
 Ballon, if he comes in in season, is worth the whole of them ; 
 but if not, there are many who ought to be able to take and 
 keep the track of a four-wheeled carriage*drawn by four horses. 
 Let us leave the rest to him." 
 
 The army moved off by dawn, leaving the mounted men and 
 cavalry to cover the grouij^l and conceal the fact of their depar 
 ture. They did not move a moment too soon. They were no 
 longer in a condition to be usnfVl. Two thirds of the conti- 
 
SCENE CLOSES IN CLOUD AND MYSTEltY. 569 
 
 
 
 ^ ^entals were sick ; the Virginia militia all sick, and in such a 
 I p r emper of despondency, that it was apprehended they would all 
 ^abandon the camp that night, and disappear homeward, a large 
 number having already deserted. The army (foot) had become 
 an absolutely disorderly crew demoralized by starvation, want 
 of clothes, and the exhaustion of forced marches. The militia 
 were generally discontent; alleging, in justification, the par 
 tiality shown to the continentals; and, especially, the petting 
 of particular commands at the expense of the whole" army, 
 But, leaving them to their progress, which brought them finally 
 in safety to their salubrious camp upon the Santee hills, w< 
 shall linger a few moments in that of the partisans the mountei 
 men, who, after covering the retreat of the infantry, were des 
 lined for active service on so many points below. 
 
 At two o clock, on the morning of the 13th July, the army 
 was in motion. At dawn, the general followed with his escort. 
 So well did the mounted men cover the ground, and cut off all 
 communications with Orangeburg, that Greene, with his foot, 
 beyond the Congaree before Rawdon suspected his depart- 
 
 was 
 ure. 
 
 Then were the mounted men let loose upon that memorable 
 incursion into the Low Country, which drove the scattered, parties 
 of the enemy into the walls of Charleston, and prostrated the 
 royal power to the very gates of that city. On the 14th July 
 the detachments of Sumter were sweeping all the avenues that 
 led below, while lie, with the main body, was pursuing the 
 road along the southside of the Congaree, leading to the east of 
 Cooper river. At the same time, Willie Sinclair, with the 
 troop of St. Julien, was once more traversing, with Measured 
 steps, and keen scrutiny, the track pursued by the carriage of 
 Mrs. Travis, to the moment when it turned aside for temporary 
 refuge in the thicket. Our dramatis persona are thus " all at 
 
 sea. 
 
 Here, a curtain falls, for the present, over the several parties. 
 There is a necessary interval in which all is obscurity. A cloud 
 -jnvelopes the fortunes of Travis and his son ; a mystery wraps 
 the fate of his wife and daughter. But the pursuer is every 
 where upon their heels, and a genius, courage, fortitude, and 
 
,560 THE FORAYERS, 
 
 zeal, which arc sure to recover the fugitives, if this be possible 
 to human enterprise **<! endeavor ! Meanwhile, the two 
 great rivals, the generals of Britain and America, are making 
 their preparations for the final trial of strength between them. 
 In their posts of watch and rest, they are recruiting their forces 
 and bracing their sinews for the last wrestle for possession of 
 the state. Meanwhile, the partisans are in motion, prompt in 
 enterprise, and eager for performance. The details of their 
 several progresses must be reserved for another volume, when 
 we shall seek , in the tale of the bloody field of " Eutaw " to 
 
 " Ravel out 
 These weaved-up mysteries* 
 
 Till then, we pray the patience of such readers as are curious 
 to learn the fate of those who have been the principal objects 
 3f our regard in the preceding chapters. 
 
 THE PND 
 
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