5 A Change of Front

“Truss him up good,” said one. “These rebels are not to he trusted, even when they are tied.”

I gave careful notice to the man who spoke, evidently the leader of the party. He was of middle size, middle age, and truculent features. His most noticeable characteristic was his drooping eyelids, which would induce the casual observer to think he was fast asleep, though in reality he was wide awake. He was dressed in the uniform of a captain in the British army. I set him down as a partisan chief on a small scale. He had five comrades, cast in the same mould as himself, all dressed in British soldiers’ uniforms and rather wild of look.

They bound me securely and set me with my back to the log and my face to the fire, much in the position that I had occupied while the girl was singing. Confound her for lulling away my caution and suspicions in such a manner! I had no doubt now that she had seen the red uniforms of the British when first I went into the wood to search for the cause of the noise. I was a fool to let my distrust of her decrease for a moment.

“That was a complete job, Miss Howard,” said the leader, “well done by everybody, and your part is the best done of all.”

“You have rescued me from the hands of a rebel, Captain Crowder,” she replied, “and I am back with my own people, for both of which I thank you.”

I thought it was time for me to say something.

“It is true you have trapped me between you, Captain Crowder, for so I hear the lady call you,” I said, “but I wouldn’t exult, because the next chance might be mine, and it would hurt your feelings for me to pay you back.”

“I don’t know about any next chance for you,” he replied, “because here in the South we generally hang rebels.”

I did not reply to his threat, thinking that I had said enough, and turned my head away. My glance fell now upon Old Put. His eyes were full of reproach to me. The I-told-you-so expression was there, and the I-am-sorry-for-you-and-myself expression was mingled with it. “I will never lose faith in you again, best of all comrades!” I signalled back.

Captain Crowder, having seized me, also seized my camp, evidently with the intention of spending the night there. He posted one sentinel, while the others sat around the fire, making themselves comfortable. The girl occupied her old seat on the tree-trunk, leaning against the projecting bough.

“Do you know where my father is, Captain Crowder?” she asked.

“With Tarleton,” he replied.

“And where is Tarleton?”

“Hot on the chase of the rebel, Morgan, and his men.”

“Can we overtake Tarleton by noon to-morrow?”

“Undoubtedly, for he has to go rather slowly, not knowing just where Morgan is. He doesn’t want to run past the game. Morgan’s hard to catch, but when Tarleton once comes up to him there’ll be an end to one rebel army.”

I listened to this conversation with the closest attention and continued to listen while he described Tarleton’s movements, force, and equipment. If I could escape him and the hangman’s rope with which he had threatened me, this information would be of great value to our cause. I was glad that, for the sake of precaution, I had torn up the girl’s letters and other written facts about us when I captured her, for now she could rely only upon speech. I waited for her to tell Crowder about me, but she said nothing upon that point, and I reflected that her reticence was natural, as she would want to give her information herself to Tarleton, and thus secure all the credit, instead of letting the guerilla, Crowder, claim at least half of it.

Two of the men disappeared in the wood and returned in a few moments, leading the horses of the band, which they tethered to the trees near by. I guessed that they had seen the light of our fire at a distance and, leaving their mounts there, had crept upon me.

“You will excuse us, Miss Howard, while we eat and drink a little,” said Crowder. “We’ve ridden far to-day, and we’re tired and hungry.”

Their appearance was sufficient indication that they needed food and rest, as the grime of travel was thick upon them. They rummaged their haversacks and saddle-bags and produced bread and meat, which they began to eat greedily. They were absorbed like wild animals in their repast and paid no attention to anything else.

The girl rose and walked over to me. Reaching down, she seized the end of my silk handkerchief, which was projecting from my pocket, and jerked it forth. She threw it into the fire and watched it burn, the red heat gripping the delicate silk and converting it in a moment to ashes. Then she turned upon me a face of flame.

“You dared to bind me,” she said—“you a rebel, and I an English woman, the daughter of a loyal English officer! You dared to insult me so!”

“And I presume that is the reason you burn the handkerchief with which I bound you,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Now that you have begun the job of burning, I suppose you would like to burn me too, as I am the man who tied the handkerchief, and I did so because you deserved it.”

She was silent, but her cheeks were as red as ever.

“I congratulate you upon your rescue, your rescuers, your company,” I said.

“They are loyal British soldiers.”

“They wear the British uniform. Any ruffian and robber may do that.”

“I have seen Captain Crowder himself in the army of Cornwallis. My father knows him, and I do too.”

“You know his face, and that is all. He may be a good enough British soldier when he is with Cornwallis, but elsewhere he is anything that suits his purpose. Look at him and his comrades now.”

Every man had produced a bottle and was drinking deeply from it. The odor rose and was too strong to be swept away by the wind.

“Look at them,” I repeated. “I congratulate you on your company.”

They drank deeply and replaced their bottles in their pockets, where I was sure they were not destined to remain long. The red fled from the girl’s face, but she said nothing, and giving me the same curious look of mingled triumph and defiance, went back to her old place on the log. There she sat, staring straight into the fire, as if she were wholly oblivious of me and the other men around her.

The partisans were in great glee. They laughed and cracked rough jokes, and presently, as I had expected, pulled out the bottles again and took long, deep draughts, once, twice, thrice. Their faces flushed from the effect of the strong spirits, and the loudness and roughness of their talk increased. Crowder, the leader, was the loudest and roughest of them all.

“That was a fine song you sang to that fellow there when you set him a-napping for us to catch, Miss Howard,” he said presently, “and we like music too, don’t we, boys?”

“Yes, yes!” they roared, all together.

“And won’t you kindly sing that song or another as good for us, Miss Howard?” he continued.

She made no answer, staring straight at the red embers, her cheeks pale.

“I say, Miss Howard, don’t you hear?” exclaimed Crowder roughly.

“Yes, I hear,” she replied, “but I’m sorry I can’t oblige you. I can’t sing any more.”

“If you can sing for that d—d rebel there,” continued Crowder, “I should think you could sing for us, who are good and loyal English like yourself.”

She was silent again.

“Didn’t we rescue you?” he continued. “Aren’t we your saviors? Don’t you owe us gratitude?”

Still unanswered, he swore an oath and said to his comrades:

“Here’s gratitude for you, lads. Well, if she won’t sing for us, we can sing for her. How do you like this, my lady? It’s called ‘I’ll Owre the Muir to Maggy,’ and it goes very well with the song you gave us just now.”

Then he sang the old song, which like the girl’s was Scotch:

His voice was not unmusical, and he had some idea of rhythm and measure. His comrades joined him, and they roared out a chorus which must have penetrated to the farthest edge of the wood.

“I’ll not only sing for you, Miss Howard,” said Crowder, “but I’ll dance for you too.”

It was plain enough that the man was drunk, and was relapsing into his natural condition of savagery. I hoped that he would fall into the fire, but he did not. His drunken head swayed from side to side, but he kept step to the measure of the song.

One of the men drew his empty bottle and beat upon its side with his knife-blade. It made a lively tinkle that sounded like music, and the others, seeing his success, imitated him. Crowder had not only a vocal but an instrumental chorus as well. His zeal increased, and he danced like an Indian at a scalp-dance, while the men roared out the song and beat their bottles with enthusiasm.

“Again I congratulate you on your company, your glorious band of rescuers, Miss Howard,” I called out to her.

I know she heard me, but she did not reply. Her lips were set firmly, although her cheeks were growing paler and paler, and she seemed to be white to the hair. I tugged at my bonds, but I could not move them.

The song stopped for a moment, and Crowder, looking around for further amusement, spied me.

“A good song, boys, and good fun,” he cried, “but here’s better fun. Let’s hang the prisoner and see him squirm.”

The others, as drunk as their leader, shouted their approval, but the girl sprang up.

“You shall not do that!” she cried.

“And why not, miss?” asked Crowder. “He is our prisoner.”

“Because I will not permit it!” she cried.

They roared with laughter.

“If you do,” she said, “I will report your act to Colonel Tarleton. This man is an important prisoner. He can guide Tarleton to Morgan, and he will do it to save his life. He must be taken safely to the British camp. Tarleton will reward you well.”

“All right, if you say so, Miss Howard,” he said. “Anything to oblige, especially one as handsome as you are. And we won’t hang him to-night. Maybe we will do it in the morning anyhow, but that’s no reason why we should stop the fun now. A soldier’s life is hard, and he ought to make merry while he can.”

He took a large flask from his haversack and shared it with his men. Then they began to sing and dance again, all of them wild with drink.

It was an orgy of savages. The fire died down and ceased to blaze; only the red embers glowed in the darkness. I could feel the blackness of the night as it rolled up and encircled us more closely. The girl was immovable. Her tawny hair shone in the dim light, and I saw that her face was still white, but that was all.

One of the men fell down presently from sheer exhaustion.

“Let him lie,” said Crowder. “He’ll sleep as well there as anywhere.”

The man never moved, but began to snore, and a second one yielded to exertion and whiskey and, stretching himself out on the ground, went to instant sleep. Crowder himself was the third, and was followed speedily by the others, including the sentinel, who had joined without objection in the orgy. The six men were sound asleep in a slumber heavy with weariness and liquor.

A last brand fell over in the coals and blazed up. The girl rose from the log, and by its light I saw that her face had turned from white to red. She walked quickly over to me and said in a voice shaking with excitement and alarm:

“Take me away from here, Mr. Marcel! Take me away at once! I would rather be with you than these men, these savages, these brutes! Nor is your life safe here!”

“They wear the British uniform; they must be loyal British soldiers,” I could not keep from saying.

“I do not know what they are,” she replied, with alarmed insistence, “but let’s go. Pray take me at once.”

She pulled at my shoulders as if she would have me rise and go on the instant.

“Untie my wrists,” I said.

She tugged at the cords, but could do nothing. They were tied too tightly.

“Take a knife from that drunken fool’s belt,” I said, indicating one of the men. “Don’t be afraid. He won’t wake.”

She secured the knife and cut my bonds. I rubbed my wrists together for a few minutes to take out the stiffness and restore the circulation. Again she urged me to start without delay.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “We must provide ourselves.”

They had taken my arms from me when they bound me, and I recovered them, adding to my supply Crowder’s pistol and some ammunition. Then I turned to the horses.

Old Put’s great dark eyes flamed with approval and gladness. He had stood at his halter’s length, watching the orgy and my rescue with attention and understanding.

“We’ll bid farewell to these beasts now, old comrade,” I said in a whisper, patting his nose.

He was too cautious to whinny a reply. The brown hack was near him, but I saw another among those belonging to the guerillas which I fancied much more than him. I hastily changed Miss Howard’s saddle to his back, assisted her to mount, and sprang upon Old Put.

I turned the heads of our horses towards the northwest, but as the woods before us were dense and interlaced with wiry bushes and creeping vines, we dared not attempt more than a walk. The horses stamped and neighed as we left them. The girl’s mount stepped on a large, dry branch, which broke with a crack like a pistol-shot. Nor did ill luck stop at that. The abandoned horses, frightened by the report, neighed and stamped again, creating a great uproar.

The sentinel, who was the least drunk of the party, sprang to his feet. He was yet half-dazed with sleep and liquor, but he saw the dim figures of a man and a woman riding away from the little encampment, and he knew that, according to the plans of Captain Crowder, it was not what should be. He fired a hasty pistol-shot in our direction, the bullet clipping the dry twigs above our heads, and then shouted to his comrades to awake, giving emphasis to his cries with many sturdy kicks.

“Look out for your head!” I shouted to Miss Howard. “An untoward bough might prove fatal. And be sure you stay with me.”

“I’ll not leave you,” she said.

“Now, Old Put,” I continued, “lead us out of this.”

He curved his long neck in the darkness and looked ahead with sharp brown eyes. I let the reins fall loose, and he wound about among the trees with a judgment that was never at fault. The other horse kept close at his side. Behind us we heard the cries of the awakened men as they leaped upon their horses and rode after us, shouting to us to stop. Two or three more pistol-shots were fired, but the air received them.

If the men could see at all, it was but dimly, though they could follow us by the hoof-beats of our horses and the tearing of the vines and slapping of the bushes as we passed. They made such a prodigious cursing and swearing that we were never in any doubt as to where they were. I had a mind for a moment to send towards them a pistol-ball which would stop their noise, but I concluded that the greater uproar they made the better it would be for us, as it gave us exact warning of their approach. They did not seem to be gaining upon us, which was a satisfaction for the present. Out on the plain they would see us more distinctly, but I believed that our horses could leave them there.

I saw a beam of light shining through the lattice-work of the boughs, and then another and another, and knew that we would soon be in the open. The girl’s horse stumbled, and she uttered a little cry of dismay, but in a moment the animal was steady on his feet again, and we went on. The beams grew more numerous and fused into a broad shield of moonlight. Two minutes more and we would be out of the wood and into the cleared ground, with the fields racing behind us.

But the light had its evil for us. Against it broad silver disk we were silhouetted like the man in the moon, and the popping of pistols told us that we had become good targets. One bullet passed so close to my head that I thought it must have cut a lock of hair in its passage, and I took it as a warning to hurry.

“Haste, Miss Howard!” I said. “We want to be beyond pistol-shot in the cleared ground, for the light will help them there.”

She was riding well, and her expression was firm and courageous. We shook the reins against the necks of our horses, and, taking the chances of bush and vine, sped into the open as a volley of pistol-shots whistled after us.

I uttered a shout, half of pleasure, half of defiance, to our pursuers, and bade Old Put show them what it was for a real racer to run his best. I had confidence too in the horse that the girl rode, for he was long-limbed. He looked like a strong animal, and he certainly had a clean, fast gait that kept him alongside of Old Put.

I regarded our escape as assured, and the girl seemed to take a like view of the case. Belief showed in her eyes.

“Miss Howard,” I said cheerfully and egotistically, “I congratulate you on the improvement in your company.”

“At any rate, you are still a rebel, with a rope around your neck.”

“I seem to have been preferred to the British behind us, who do not have ropes around their necks, but deserve them. Remember that I ride with you at your own invitation.”

“Then you consider me still your prisoner?”

“Oh, I am yours; but, whether one or the other, I am to be guide.”

The men behind us were silent, and we were sure of gaining upon them. I could see their figures rising out of the plain in the misty gray light, gigantic and distorted in shape, and the thud, thud of their horses’ hoofs, as regular as the ticking of a clock, came to our ears.

“Which way do we go?” asked the girl.

“To Morgan, of course.”

“Then I shall soon be with my father and friends again.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because Tarleton will certainly take Morgan, and, of course, I shall be recaptured.”

She looked at me with much of the old sparkle and defiance and the absolute faith in British valor that British defeats seemed unable to shake. I was annoyed, and my patriotic pride was hurt.

“You take it for granted that Tarleton will win if he should overtake Morgan?”

“I do.”

“Yet you have heard the news from King’s Mountain?”

“A chance, an accident.”

“The same chance, the same accident, may happen again.”

“Never.”

I could not say her nay, for were we not retreating steadily before the advance of Tarleton, a retreat that seemed to all to be the part of wisdom, for again let it be said that we were fewer in numbers, far inferior in equipment, and more than half of our little army were raw troops, farmers! The exhilaration of the flight and escape disappeared for the time, and a heavy depression took its place.

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