CHAPTER VIII--PEGGY'S RESOLVE
"Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! Will ye give it up to slaves? Will ye to your homes retire? Look behind you! They're afire! And, before you, see Who have done it!--From the vale On they come!--And will ye quail?"
--John Pierpont.
In an instant Peggy was out of the stable and running to the house.
"Mother," she cried bursting in upon Mrs. Owen so suddenly that the ladystarted up in alarm, "the lad that mended my saddle is in the stable. Hehath brought Star back, and I fear he hath fainted. Come quickly!"
"Fainted?" exclaimed the lady rising hastily. "And Star back? Tell Sukeyto follow with Tom, Peggy."
Seizing a bottle of cologne and a vinaigrette she went quickly to thebarn followed by Peggy and the two curious servants.
"'Tis lack of nourishing food more than aught else that ails him," wasMrs. Owen's comment as she laved the youth's forehead with vinegar, andbade Sukey burn some feathers under his nose. "Peggy, get theguest-chamber in readiness. We will carry him in as soon as he hathregained his consciousness."
The girl hastened to do her bidding, and presently the lad, by this timerecovered from his swoon, was put to bed, and the household all a bustlewith preparing gruel and delicacies. Shortly after partaking of food, hegave a sigh of content and fell into a deep sleep. And then Peggy turnedto her mother.
"Are we to keep him?" she queried.
"Surely, my daughter. Why dost thou ask? The lad is not strong enough todepart now. There is naught else to be done."
"But he is in truth a deserter, mother."
"I surmised as much, as thee remembers," observed Mrs. Owen quietly.
"And a thief," continued the maiden with some warmth. "Mother, heacknowledged that 'twas he who stole Star."
"And it was also he who brought her back," reminded her mother.
"But to desert," exclaimed Peggy a fine scorn leaping into her eyes. "Toleave when his country hath such need of him!"
"True, Peggy; but the flesh is weak, and when subjected to the pangs ofhunger 'tis prone to revolt. Our soldiers are so illy cared for that thewonder is that more do not forsake the army."
"Mother, thee does not excuse it, does thee?" cried Peggy in so muchconsternation that Mrs. Owen smiled.
"Nay, Peggy. I only suspend judgment until I know all the circumstances.Did he tell thee aught of his reasons for deserting?"
"I fear," answered Peggy shamefacedly, "that I gave him no opportunity.In fact, mother, I discovered some warmth in speaking anent the matter."
Mrs. Owen smiled. Well she knew that in her zeal for the country Peggywas apt to "discover warmth."
"Then," she said, "we will bring naught into question until he hath hisstrength. Yon lad is in no condition for fighting or aught else at thepresent time."
"But once he hath his strength," broke in the girl eagerly, "would it beamiss to reason with him?"
"Once he hath his strength I will say nothing," answered the lady, hermouth twitching. "Thou mayst reason with him then to thy heart'scontent."
And so it came about that the young deserter was attended with greatcare, and none was so assiduous in attention to his comfort as Peggy.For several days he did little but receive food and sleep. This soonpassed, however, and he was up and about, though he still kept to hischamber both as a matter of precaution and as though enjoying to thefull the creature comforts by which he was surrounded.
"Friend," remarked Peggy one day after she had arranged his dinnerdaintily upon a table drawn up by the settle upon which he was lying,"thee has not told thy name yet."
"'Tis Drayton. John Drayton," he returned an apprehensive look flashingacross his face. "You would not--would you?--betray me?"
"I did not ask for that purpose," she replied indignantly. "Had wewished to denounce thee we would have done so long since. Why shouldstthou think such a thing?"
"I cry you pardon," he said with something of his old jauntiness. "Ihave heard that a guilty conscience doth make cowards of us all. 'Tis soin my case. In truth I should not tarry here, but----"
"Thee is welcome to stay until thy strength is fully restored, friend,"she said. "My mother and I are agreed as to that. And then----"
"Well? And then?" he questioned sharply turning upon her.
"Friend, why did thee desert?" asked she abruptly.
"Why? Because the thought of another winter took all the spirit out ofme. Because I am tired of being hungry and cold; because I am tired ofbeing ragged and dirty. I am tired of it all: the long hard marches withinsufficient clothing to cover me by day, and no blanket but the snow atnight. I made the march to Quebec through all the perils of thewilderness. Through sleet and driving snow it hath always been myfortune to serve. Last winter I spent among the dreary hills of ValleyForge, enduring all the miseries of that awful time. And then, after allthat, for three such years of service what does an ungrateful countrybestow upon me? The rank of ensign." And he laughed bitterly. "But everyforeign adventurer that comes whining to Congress may have the highestcommission that is in their power to bestow. And what do they care forus who have borne the burden? Why, nothing but to let us starve."
"True," said Peggy troubled. "True, Friend Drayton, and yet----"
"And yet when we have given so much to an ungrateful country if wedesert we are hounded like dogs, or runaway slaves," he continuedpassionately. "And you, Mistress Peggy, who have known neither hungernor cold, nor what it is to be in battle, stand there accusingly becauseI, forsooth, who have known all these things have tired of them. Asummer soldier, you called me. A winter soldier would have been thebetter term."
Peggy's face flushed.
"Now," he continued, "I am seeking to follow the precepts of the greatDeclaration which doth teach that every man hath the right to life,liberty and the pursuit of happiness after his own fashion."
"Still," remarked the girl, who was plainly puzzled by his reasoning,"if the British should succeed in defeating us what would become of theDeclaration? Methinks that 'twould be the part of wisdom not to accordthy life by such precepts until they were definitely established."
"You are pleased to be sharp, mistress," he said pushing back from thetable. "I--I am in no condition to argue with you. I am weak," he addedreclining once more upon the settle.
Peggy made no reply, and silently removed the dishes. A sparkle cameinto her eye as she noted their empty condition.
"Mother," she said as she entered the kitchen where that lady was, "doesthee not think that our friend is able now to stand being reasoned with?He said but now that he was still weak."
Mrs. Owen laughed quietly as she saw that nothing had been left of themeal.
"'Tis but natural that he should feel so, Peggy," she said. "When onehath been without food and a proper place to sleep the senses becomesharpened to the enjoyment of such things, and he but seeks to prolonghis delight in them. Be not too hard on the lad, my child."
"But would it harm him, mother, to reason with him?" persisted Peggy."If he can eat so, can he not be brought to see the error of his ways? Iwould not injure him for the world."
"Set thy mind at rest upon that point, Peggy. Naught that thou canst sayto him can work him injury. Hath our friend told thee why he deserted?"
"He feared another winter," answered Peggy. "And perhaps he hath causeto; for he hath been through the march to Quebec under General Arnold,and last winter he spent at Valley Forge. And so he ran away to keepfrom passing another such season in the army."
"Poor lad!" sighed the lady. "'Tis no wonder that he deserted. Yet thosewho endure such hardships for so long rarely desert. 'Tis but a passingweakness. Let us hope that he will return when he is well enough. He isof too good a mettle to be lost."
"I mean him to go back," announced Peggy resolutely.
"Peggy, what is worrying thy brain?" exclaimed her mother.
"Child, letme look at thee."
"Leave him to me, mother," cried the girl, her eyes shining like stars."He shall yet be something other than a summer soldier."
Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls Page 10