by John Fox
XXIII
Down the river Erskine rode with a sad heart. At the place where he hadfought with Grey he pulled Firefly to a sudden halt. There was theboundary of Red Oaks and there started a desolation that ran as far ashis eye could reach. Red Oaks had not been spared, and he put Firefly toa fast gallop, with eyes strained far ahead and his heart beating withagonized foreboding and savage rage. Soon over a distant clump of treeshe could see the chimneys of Barbara's home--his home, he thoughthelplessly--and perhaps those chimneys were all that was left. And thenhe saw the roof and the upper windows and the cap of the big columnsunharmed, untouched, and he pulled Firefly in again, with overwhelmingrelief, and wondered at the miracle. Again he started and again pulledin when he caught sight of three horses hitched near the stiles. Turningquickly from the road, he hid Firefly in the underbrush. Very quietly heslipped along the path by the river, and, pushing aside through therose-bushes, lay down where unseen he could peer through the closelymatted hedge. He had not long to wait. A white uniform issued from thegreat hall door and another and another--and after them Barbara--smiling.The boy's blood ran hot--smiling at her enemies. Two officers bowed,Barbara courtesied, and they wheeled on their heels and descended thesteps. The third stayed behind a moment, bowed over her hand and kissedit. The watcher's blood turned then to liquid fire. Great God, at whatprice was that noble old house left standing? Grimly, swiftly Erskineturned, sliding through the bushes like a snake to the edge of the roadalong which they must pass. He would fight the three, for his life wasworth nothing now. He heard them laughing, talking at the stiles. Heheard them speak Barbara's name, and two seemed to be bantering thethird, whose answering laugh seemed acquiescent and triumphant. Theywere coming now. The boy had his pistols out, primed and cocked. He wasrising on his knees, just about to leap to his feet and out into theroad, when he fell back into a startled, paralyzed, inactive heap.Glimpsed through an opening in the bushes, the leading trooper in theuniform of Tarleton's legion was none other than Dane Grey, andErskine's brain had worked quicker than his angry heart. This was amystery that must be solved before his pistols spoke. He rose crouchingas the troopers rode away. At the bend of the road he saw Grey turn witha gallant sweep of his tricornered hat, and, swerving his headcautiously, he saw Barbara answer with a wave of her handkerchief. IfTarleton's men were around he would better leave Firefly where he was inthe woods for a while. A jay-bird gave out a flutelike note above hishead; Erskine never saw a jay-bird perched cockily on a branch that hedid not think of Grey; but Grey was brave--so, too, was a jay-bird. Astartled gasp behind him made him wheel, pistol once more in hand, tofind a negro, mouth wide open and staring at him from the road.
"Marse Erskine!" he gasped. It was Ephraim, the boy who had ledBarbara's white ponies out long, long ago, now a tall, muscular lad withan ebony face and dazzling teeth. "Whut you doin' hyeh, suh? Whar' yo'hoss? Gawd, I'se sutn'ly glad to see yuh." Erskine pointed to an oak.
"Right by that tree. Put him in the stable and feed him."
The negro shook his head.
"No, suh. I'll take de feed down to him. Too many redcoats messin' roundheah. You bettah go in de back way--dey might see yuh."
"How is Miss Barbara?"
The negro's eyes shifted.
"She's well. Yassuh, she's well as common."
"Wasn't one of those soldiers who just rode away Mr. Dane Grey?"
The negro hesitated.
"Yassuh."
"What's he doing in a British uniform?"
The boy shifted his great shoulders uneasily and looked aside.
"I don't know, suh--I don't know nuttin'."
Erskine knew he was lying, but respected his loyalty.
"Go tell Miss Barbara I'm here and then feed my horse."
"Yassuh."
Ephraim went swiftly and Erskine followed along the hedge and throughthe rose-bushes to the kitchen door, where Barbara's faithful old Mammywas waiting for him with a smile of welcome but with deep trouble in hereyes.
"I done tol' Miss Barbary, suh. She's waitin' fer yuh in de hall."
Barbara, standing in the hall doorway, heard his step.
"Erskine!" she cried softly, and she came to meet him, with both handsoutstretched, and raised her lovely face to be kissed. "What are youdoing here?"
"I am on my way to join General Lafayette."
"But you will be captured. It is dangerous. The country is full ofBritish soldiers."
"So I know," Erskine said dryly.
"When did you get here?"
"Twenty minutes ago. I would not have been welcome just then. I waitedin the hedge. I saw you had company."
"Did you see them?" she faltered.
"I even recognized one of them." Barbara sank into a chair, her elbow onone arm, her chin in her hand, her face turned, her eyes lookingoutdoors. She said nothing, but the toe of her slipper began to tap thefloor gently. There was no further use for indirection or concealment.
"Barbara," Erskine said with some sternness, and his tone quickened thetapping of the slipper and made her little mouth tighten, "what does allthis mean?"
"Did you see," she answered, without looking at him, "that the cropswere all destroyed and the cattle and horses were all gone?"
"Why did they spare the house?" The girl's bosom rose with one quick,defiant intake of breath, and for a moment she held it.
"Dane Grey saved our home."
"How?"
"He had known Colonel Tarleton in London and had done something for himover there."
"How did he get in communication with Colonel Tarleton when he was anofficer in the American army?" The girl would not answer.
"Was he taken prisoner?" Still she was silent, for the sarcasm inErskine's voice was angering her.
"He fought once under Benedict Arnold--perhaps he is fighting with himnow."
"No!" she cried hotly.
"Then he must be a----"
She did not allow him to utter the word.
"Why Mr. Grey is in British uniform is his secret--not mine."
"And why he is here is--yours."
"Exactly!" she flamed. "You are a soldier. Learn what you want to knowfrom him. You are my cousin, but you are going beyond the rights ofblood. I won't stand it--I won't stand it--from anybody."
"I don't understand you, Barbara--I don't know you. That last time it wasGrey, you--and now--" He paused and, in spite of herself, her eyes flashedtoward the door. Erskine saw it, drew himself erect, bowed and strodestraight out. Nor did the irony of the situation so much as cross hismind--that he should be turned from his own home by the woman he lovedand to whom he had given that home. Nor did he look back--else he mighthave seen her sink, sobbing, to the floor.
* * * * *
When he turned the corner of the house old Mammy and Ephraim werewaiting for him at the kitchen door.
"Get Firefly, Ephraim!" he said sharply.
"Yassuh!"
At the first sight of his face Mammy had caught her hands together ather breast.
"You ain't gwine, Marse Erskine," she said tremulously. "You ain't gwineaway?"
"Yes, Mammy--I must."
"You an' Miss Barbary been quoilin', Marse Erskine--you beenquoilin'"--and without waiting for an answer she went on passionately:"Ole Marse an' young Marse an' Marse Hugh done gone, de niggahs allgone, an' nobody lef' but me an' Ephraim--nobody lef' but me an'Ephraim--to give dat little chile one crumb o' comfort. Nobody come to dehouse but de redcoats an' dat mean Dane Grey, an' ev'y time he come heleave Miss Barbary cryin' her little heart out. 'Tain't Miss Barbary indar--hit's some other pusson. She ain't de same pusson--no, suh. An' lemmetell yu--lemme tell yu--ef some o' de men folks doan come back heahsomehow an' look out fer dat little gal--she's a-gwine to run away widdat mean low-down man whut just rid away from heah in a white uniform."She had startled Erskine now and she knew it.
"Dat man has got little Missus plum' witched, I tell ye--plum' witched.Hit's jes like a snak
e wid a catbird."
"Men have to fight, Mammy----"
"I doan keer nothin' 'bout de war."
"I'd be captured if I stayed here----"
"All I keer 'bout is my chile in dar----"
"But we'll drive out the redcoats and the whitecoats and I'll comestraight here----"
"An' all de men folks leavin' her heah wid nobody but black Ephraim an'her ole Mammy." The old woman stopped her fiery harangue to listen:
"Dar now, heah dat? My chile hollerin' fer her ole Mammy." She turnedher unwieldy body toward the faint cry that Erskine's heart heard betterthan his ears, and Erskine hurried away.
"Ephraim," he said as he swung upon Firefly, "you and Mammy keep a closewatch, and if I'm needed here, come for me yourself and come fast."
"Yassuh. Marse Grey is sutn'ly up to some devilmint no which side hefightin' fer. I got a gal oveh on the aige o' de Grey plantation an' shetel' me dat Marse Dane Grey don't wear dat white uniform all de time."
"What's that--what's that?" asked Erskine.
"No, suh. She say he got an udder uniform, same as yose, an' he keeps itat her uncle Sam's cabin an' she's seed him go dar in white an' come outin our uniform, an' al'ays at night, Marse Erskine--al'ays at night."
The negro cocked his ear suddenly:
"Take to de woods quick, Marse Erskine. Horses comin' down the road."
But the sound of coming hoof-beats had reached the woodsman's ears someseconds before the black man heard them, and already Erskine had wheeledaway. And Ephraim saw Firefly skim along the edge of a blackened meadowbehind its hedge of low trees.
"Gawd!" said the black boy, and he stood watching the road. A band ofwhite-coated troopers was coming in a cloud of dust, and at the head ofthem rode Dane Grey.
"Has Captain Erskine Dale been here?" he demanded.
Ephraim had his own reason for being on the good side of the questioner,and did not even hesitate.
"Yassuh--he jes' lef'! Dar he goes now!" With a curse Grey wheeled histroopers. At that moment Firefly, with something like the waving flightof a bluebird, was leaping the meadow fence into the woods. The blackboy looked after the troopers' dust.
"Gawd!" he said again, with a grin that showed every magnificent toothin his head. "Jest as well try to ketch a streak o' lightning." Andquite undisturbed he turned to tell the news to old Mammy.