Peggy Owen, Patriot: A Story for Girls

by Lucy Foster Madison

  CHAPTER XXX--AN INTERRUPTED JOURNEY

  "I still had hoped ... Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I heard, of all I saw."

  --Goldsmith.

  A few days later the country was electrified by the news that the Whigswest of the Alleghanies had marched to the relief of their oppressedbrethren of the Carolinas, and defeated the British at King's Mountain.The victory fired the patriots with new zeal, checked the rising of theloyalists in North Carolina, and was fatal to the intended expedition ofCornwallis. He had hoped to step with ease from one Carolina to theother, and then proceed to the conquest of Virginia; he was left with nochoice but to retreat.

  The men about Charlotte had disputed his advance; they now harassed hisforaging parties, intercepted his despatches and cut off hiscommunications. Declaring that every bush hid a rebel, Lord Cornwallisfell back across the Catawba into South Carolina.

  At the plantation the news of the victory was received with joy, causingPeggy to unfold the plan that had been maturing ever since she hadregained possession of Star.

  "What doth hinder my going home now?" she asked the assembled family oneevening. "The British have gone, and I have but to keep to the road toarrive in time at Philadelphia."

  "But the Tories?" questioned Mistress Egan. "They are everywhere."

  "I have waited so long for a way to open," continued Peggy, stoutly. "Itis wonderful how it hath all come about. First, the sea brought me tothy door, Friend Mandy. Then we came up here where the road is theselfsame one used by the delegates to go to the Congress. Then my ownpony is brought to this very house. Does thee not see that 'tis the wayopened at last?"

  "I see that we must let you go," said the good woman sadly, "though Ishall never know a minute's peace until I hear of you being safe withyour mother."

  "I will write as soon as I reach her," promised the girl. "And I shallget through, never fear. Did thee not say to thy husband when thecottage was burned that the people would help? Well, they will help metoo."

  "You cannot go alone, my girl," interposed Henry Egan decidedly."'Twould never do in the world. Things air upset still, even though theBritish air gone. If I hadn't joined the milish I'd take you homemyself. As things air there can't a man be spared from the state jestnow. North Carolina needs every man she can get."

  "I know it, Friend Henry," answered Peggy. "And I would not wish any oneto leave his duty for me. The cause of liberty must come beforeeverything."

  "That is true," he said. "Be content to bide a little longer, and mayhapa way will be opened, as you say."

  So, yielding to his judgment with the sweet deference that was hergreatest charm, Peggy bore her disappointment as best she could. It wasbut a few days, however, until the matter was brought up again by thefisherman.

  "Peggy," he said, "I heard as how Joe Hart was going to take his wifeand baby to her folks in Virginny, so that he can join the Continentalswith Gates. If you're bound to go this might be your chance. Thingsdon't seem to be so bad over there as they air in this state, and it maybe easier for you to get some one to take you on to Philadelphia."

  "When do they start?" asked Peggy joyfully.

  "To-morrow morning. That won't give you much time, but----"

  "'Tis all I need," she answered excitedly. "Oh, Friend Henry, how goodthee is to find a chance for me."

  "There, my girl! say no more. Of course you want them even as they mustwant you. You'll write sometimes, and when this awful war is over, ifthere air any of us left, mayhap you'll come down to see us again."

  "I will," she promised in tears.

  "Another thing," he said, bringing forth a few gold pieces, "you musttake these with you. They will help you in your journey, but use 'emonly when you can't get what you want any other way. 'Tis better totrust to kindness of heart than to cupidity."

  In spite of her protests he made her accept them, and she sewed them inthe hem of her frock, promising to use them with discretion. With manytears Peggy took leave of these kindly people the next morning, and setforth with Joe Hart and his wife and baby for Virginia. The road wasmountainous, and the riding hard, but Peggy's heart danced with gladnessand she heeded not the fatigue, for at last she was going home. Home!The opaline splendor of the morning thrilled her with an appreciationthat she had never felt before. What a wonderful light threaded thewoods and glorified the treetops! Home!

  At night they stopped at some woodman's hut, or at a plantation, if theywere near the more pretentious establishment; for inns were few, and thehabitations so far removed from each other that the people gladly gaveentertainment to travelers in return for the news they brought.

  Often they encountered bodies of irregular troops upon the roaddirecting their wearied march toward the headquarters of the patriotarmy. The victory at King's Mountain had thrilled the people even asConcord and Lexington had done, and roused them to renewed exertions.

  Peggy's companions were not very cheerful. The man was a rough, kindly,goodhearted fellow, but his wife was a delicate woman, peevish andcomplaining, whose strength was scarcely equal to the hardships of thejourney and the care of the sickly infant who fretted incessantly.

  Four days of such companionship wore upon even Peggy's joyousness. Theywere by this time some fifteen miles east of Hillsborough, where theremnant of the patriot army lay. The road was lonely, the quiet brokenonly by the whimpering of the baby and the querulous soothing of themother. Peggy felt depressed and mentally reproached herself for it.

  "Thee is foolish, Peggy," she chided sternly, "to heed such things. Ifthe poor woman can bear it thee should not let it wherrit thee. Now bebrave, Peggy Owen! just think how soon thee will see mother. Can theenot bear a little discomfort for that? And how exciting 'twill be totell them----What was that?" she cried aloud, turning a startled look uponthe mountaineer, who rode a short distance ahead of Peggy and his wife.

  "It sounded like a groan," exclaimed he.

  They drew rein and listened. The road ran through a forest so denselystudded with undergrowth that it was impossible to see any distance oneither side. For a few seconds there was no sound but the whispering ofthe pines. They were about to pass on when there came a low cry:

  "You, whoever you are! Come to me, for the love of God!"

  For a moment they looked at each other with startled faces, and then themountaineer made a motion to swing himself from his horse.

  "Joe," cried his wife, "what air you going to do? Don't go! How'd youknow but what it's an ambush?"

  "Nay; some one is hurt," protested Peggy.

  While Hart still hesitated, Peggy dismounted, and leading Star by thebridle walked in the direction from which the cry came.

  "Where is thee, friend?" she called, her voice sounding clearly throughthe stillness of the forest.

  "Here! Here!" came the feeble reply.

  Dropping the pony's bridle Peggy pushed aside the undergrowth, andadvanced fearlessly, pausing ever and anon to call for guidance. Shamedby this display of courage Joe Hart followed her, despite the protestsof his wife. Presently just ahead of them appeared a man's form lyingoutstretched under a clump of bushes, and wearing the uniform of theContinentals. One arm, the right one, was broken, and lay disabled uponthe grass, while the hand of the other lifted itself occasionally tostroke the legs of a powerful horse which stood guard over the prostrateform of his master.

  The animal snapped at them viciously as they approached, but the soldierspoke to him sharply, so that they could draw near in safety. The girlbent over the wounded man pityingly, for a gaping hole in his sidethrough which the blood was flowing told that he had not long to live.

  "What can I do for thee, friend?" she asked gently, sinking down besidehim and raising his head to her lap.

  "Are you Whig or Tory?" he gasped, gazing up at her eagerly.

  "A patriot, friend," she answered wiping the moisture from his brow withtender hand
s.

  "Thank God," he cried making a great effort to talk for the end was fastapproaching. "I bear letters to General Gates from the Congress. In myshoe; will you see that they are taken to him?"

  "Yes," she replied.

  "Promise me," he insisted. "You look true. Promise that you yourselfwill take them to him."

  "I promise," she said solemnly. "And now, friend, thyself. Hast thou nomessages for thy dear ones?"

  "Mary," he whispered a spasm of pain contracting his face. "My wife!Tell her that I died doing my duty. She must not grieve. 'Tis for thecountry. Water!" he gasped.

  But Joe Hart, foreseeing the need for this, had already gone in searchof it, and opportunely returned at this moment with his drinking-hornfull. The vidette drank eagerly, and revived a little.

  "Thy name?" asked Peggy softly, for she saw that his time was short.

  "William Trumbull, of Fairfield, Connecticut," he responded. The wordscame slowly with great effort. "'Twas Tories," he said, "that shot me,but Duke outran them. Then I fell and crawled in here. My horse----" Asmile of pride and affection lighted up his face as he turned toward theanimal. "We've taken our last ride, old fellow!"

  "Would thee like for me to speak to the general about thy horse?" askedPeggy.

  "If you would," he cried eagerly. And then after a moment--"Take off myboots."

  The mountaineer complied with the request, and the dying patriot gavethe papers which Hart took from them to Peggy.

  "Guard these with your life," he continued. "And get to General Gateswithout delay. They have news of Arnold's treason----"

  "Of what, did thee say?" cried Peggy.

  "Of the treason of Benedict Arnold," he said feebly. "He is a traitor."

  "Not General Arnold!" exclaimed Peggy in anguish. "Not the Arnold thatwas at Philadelphia! Oh, friend! thee can't mean that Arnold?"

  "The very same," he responded. "And further, he is seeking to induce thesoldiers to desert their country's colors."

  "Merciful heavens! it can't be true!" she cried. "Friend, friend, theemust be wandering. It couldn't happen."

  "But it hath," he gasped. "They told me to make speed. I--I must go!"

  With a superhuman effort he struggled to his feet, stood for a briefsecond, and fell back--dead.