CHAPTER XII--ANOTHER CHANCE
"Thy spirit, Independence, let me share, Lord of the lion-heart and eagle eye; Thy steps I follow, with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky. Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime Hath bleached the tyrant's cheek in every varying clime."
--Smollett.
Drayton was lying on the settle when Peggy announced General Arnold. Hesprang to his feet with an exclamation as the latter entered, and thenshrank back and hung his head.
"You, you," he murmured brokenly. "Oh, how can you bear to see me?"
"And is it thus we meet again, Drayton?" said the general, all thereserve and hauteur of his manner vanishing before the distress of hisformer soldier.
"'Twas cold," muttered Drayton too ashamed to raise his head. "I--Ifeared it sir. You cannot understand," he broke out. "How can a man ofyour courage know how such things eat the very heart out of a fellow?"
"I do know, boy," exclaimed Arnold seating himself on the settle. "Whatwould you say if I were to tell you that once I deserted?"
"You?" cried the youth flinging up his head to stare at him. "I'd neverbelieve it, sir. You desert! Impossible!"
"Nevertheless, I did, my lad. Listen, and I will tell you of it. I wasfifteen at the time, and my imagination had been fired by tales of theatrocities committed on the frontier by the French and Indians. Iresolved to enlist and relieve the dire state of my countrymen as far aslay in my power. So I ran away from home to Lake George, where the mainpart of the army was at the time. The wilderness of that northerncountry was dense, and I passed through hardships similar to those wesustained in our march to Quebec. You know, Drayton, what an army mayhave to endure in such circumstances?"
Drayton nodded, his eyes fixed on his beloved leader with fascinatedinterest.
"Well," continued the general, "the privations proved too much for a ladof my age, so I deserted, and made my way home. I shall never forget thefright my good mother would be in if she but caught a glimpse of therecruiting officer. I was under the required age for the army, to besure, but none the less I skulked and hid until the French and Indianwar had ceased, and there was no longer need for hiding."
"You," breathed the youth in so low a tone as scarce to be heard, "youdid that, and then made that charge at Saratoga? You, sir?"
"Even I," the general told him briefly. "'Tis a portion of my life thatI don't often speak of, Drayton, but I thought that it might help you toknow that I could understand--that others before you have been fainthearted, and then retrieved themselves."
"You?" spoke the lad again in a maze. "You! and then after that, themarch through that awful wilderness! Why, sir, 'twas you that held ustogether. 'Twas you, that when the three hundred turned back and left usto our fate, 'twas you who cried: 'Never mind, boys! There'll be moreglory for the rest of us.' 'Twas you that cheered us when our courageflagged. 'Twas you that carried us through. And then Valcour! Why, sir,look at the British ships you fought. And Ticonderoga! And Crown Point!And Ridgefield, where six horses were shot from under you!"
"And do you remember all those?" asked Arnold, touched. "Would thatCongress had a like appreciation of my services; but it took a Saratogato gain even my proper rank."
"I know," cried the boy hotly. "Haven't we men talked it over by thecamp-fires? Were it left to the soldiers you should be next to thecommander-in-chief himself."
"I know that, my lad," spoke the general, markedly pleased by thisdevotion. "But now a truce to that, and let us consider your case. MissPeggy here tells me that you wish to return to the army?"
"I do," said the youth earnestly. "Indeed, General Arnold, no one couldhelp it about her. She gave me no peace until I so declared myself."
"I understand that she read 'The Crisis' to you," said Arnold, a smileplaying about his lips. "But you, Drayton. Aside from that, is it yourwish to return to the army? It hath ofttimes been in my thoughts of lateto obtain a grant of land and retire thereto with such of my men as weresick and weary of the war. I have in truth had some correspondence anentthe subject with the state of New York. Would you like to be one of myhousehold there?"
"Beyond anything," spoke Drayton eagerly. "But not until I have redeemedmyself, general. Were I to go before you would always be wondering if Iwould not fail you at some crucial moment. You have won your laurels,sir, and deserve retirement. But I have mine to gain. Give me anotherchance. That is all I ask."
"You shall have it, Drayton. Come with me, and I will send you with anote to General Washington. He hath so much of friendship for me thatbecause I ask it he will give you the chance you wish."
"But the uniform," interposed Peggy who had been a pleased listener tothe foregoing conversation. "I made him a uniform, Friend Arnold. Shouldhe not wear it?"
"'Twould be most ungallant not to, Miss Peggy," returned the commanderlaughing.
"I knew not that you had made it," exclaimed Drayton as Peggydisappeared, and returned with the uniform in question. "Why, 'tis but ashort time since I said that I would go back. How could you get it doneso soon?"
Peggy laughed.
"It hath been making a long time," she confessed. "Mother helped me withdyeing the cloth, but all the rest I did myself. I knew that thee wouldgo back from the first."
"'Twas more than I did then," declared Drayton as the girl left the roomonce more in search of her mother. "Sir, could a man do aught else thanreturn to his allegiance when urged to it by such a girl?"
"No," agreed his general with a smile. "Drayton, your friend hathclothed you with a uniform of her own manufacture. You have shown anappreciation of Benedict Arnold such as I knew not that any held of myservices to the country. Take therefore this sword," unbuckling it fromhis waist as he spoke. "'Tis the one I used in that dash at Saratogathat you followed. Take it, Ensign Drayton, and wear it in memory of himwho was once your commanding officer."
"Your sword?" breathed Drayton with a gasp of amazement. "Your sword,General Arnold? I am not worthy! I am not worthy!"
"Tut, tut, boy! I make no doubt but that you will wield it with morehonor than it hath derived from the present owner," said the otherpressing it upon the lad.
"Then, sir, I take it," said Drayton clasping it with a reverentgesture. "And may God requite me with my just deserts if ever I bringdisgrace upon it. Sir, I swear to you that never shall it be used, saveas you have used it, in the defense of my country. Should ever I growfaint hearted again, I will have but to look at this sword, and think ofthe courage and patriotism of him who gave it to renew my courage. Prayheaven that I may ever prove as loyal to my country as Benedict Arnoldhath shown himself."
"You, you overwhelm me, boy," gasped Arnold who had grown strangely paleas the lad was speaking. "I make no doubt but that you will grace theweapon as well as the original owner. Ah!" with evident relief, "hereare Mrs. Owen and the fair Peggy. Doth not our soldier lad make a braveshowing, Miss Peggy?"
"He doth indeed," cried Peggy in delight. "And thee has given him thysword, Friend Arnold! How monstrously good of thee!"
"Is it not?" asked Drayton in an awed tone. "And I am only a subaltern.Oh, Mistress Peggy, you will never have the opportunity to call me asummer soldier again. I have that which will keep me from ever beingfaint hearted again." He touched the weapon proudly as he ended. "Thiswill inspire me with courage."
"Of course it will," cried Peggy with answering enthusiasm. "Mother saidall along that naught ailed thee but an empty stomach."
"'Tis what ails the most of our soldiers," said the boy as the laughdied away which this speech provoked. "'Tis marvelous how a little fooddoth raise the patriotism."
"And thee will be sure to write?" questioned Peggy when they descendedto the lower floor. "I shall be anxious to hear of thy well-being, andthee must remember, John, that 'tis my intention to keep thee in socks,and mittens, and to renew that uniform when 'tis needed. Thee shall becold no more if I can help it. And
how shall it be done unless thee willlet me know thy whereabouts?"
"Have no fear. I shall be glad to write," answered Drayton who, now thatthe time had come for departure, seemed loath to leave them. "MadamOwen, and Miss Peggy, you have made a new man of me. How shall I everthank you for your care?"
"Speak not of it, dear lad," said the lady gently. "If we have done theegood it hath not been without benefit to us also. And if thou dost needanything fail not to let us know. 'Tis sweet to minister to those whotake the field in our defense. It makes thee very near and dear to us toknow personally all that thee and thy fellows are undergoing for oursakes."
"Dear lady, the man who will not fight for such as you deserves the fateof a deserter indeed," exclaimed the youth, much moved. "I thank youagain. You shall hear from me, but not as a summer soldier."
He bent in a deep obeisance before both mother and daughter, and thenwith one last long look about him John Drayton followed General Arnoldto the coach.
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